Greedy Private Landlords.

My Wife and I own houses that we offer for rental. Because of this, we are classed by many of those who consider themselves, in various degrees, as socialists, as 'greedy private landlords'.

All too often, possibly every time, when the question of tenancy of rented housing is discussed, or written about, the cliché 'greedy private landlords' will be quoted.

Why are we labelled as being 'greedy' – by people who know nothing about us – because we invested our hard earned and saved; by forgoing purchasing unnecessary luxuries; money into property that we rent-out for our pension income?

If we had used our money to purchase an annuity to provide us with a retirement income, and in turn given an assurance company profit, would we be considered as greedy?

If we only receive our state pension, because we didn't plan for additional private revenue, and have to claim pension credits and other social benefit payments, paid for by other people's taxes, so we can survive, would we be considered 'greedy'?

Are there different classifications of private-landlords or are we all just one group of greedy investors in property?

What about people who invest in buying their own home, with the hopes that it will increase in value, so that they can sell it at a profit when they downsize, after the family has left, and supplement their pension: are private-home investors greedy?

© Elliot Sampford 2013

Obnoxious Odours.

Last Friday morning I was in the checkout queue, in a major supermarket, when I nearly collapsed.

It wasn't because I had over exerted myself loading my purchases from the shopping-trolley to the conveyor belt. It wasn't because of an anxiety attack thinking about the total cost of the items.

The cause of my possible transition to a comatose state was – and there is no polite way of explaining my dilemma – the unbearable stench from the person, alongside me, in the queue running parallel with the one I was in.

The obnoxious smog of fumes; stale nicotine from clothing and yellowed skin; fermenting waste alcohol spilt on clothes and on exhaled breath; and bacterial body odour; was emanating from the offending obese shopper. The cloud was enveloping, smothering me. I was beginning to appreciate what it would have been like in a gas attack whilst in the trenches.

http://openclipart.org

I was having difficulty breathing. My stomach was considering returning my breakfast to me. My legs were giving way, I held onto the counter. Claustrophobia began to control me. I looked to my wife, who was the other end of our trundler, for help. But, all she could offer was a skyward glance with raised eyebrows, a wrinkled forehead, and the pinching of her nostril as a physical suggestion of action I could take.

There was no possible escape route. I was trapped between the emptied cart of the customer ahead of me, and my half-emptied one waiting for me to put the final items on the slowly-moving rubber belt. It wasn't possible to reverse away from the checkout, and abandon the shopping, to fend for itself, as other shoppers, and their accompanying wire-mesh wheelbarrows, had joined the one-way exit system. The front wheels of the trolley behind Natalie were already snapping at her heals. Any escape route between the two adjacent queues was blocked by the tangled traffic jam of bodies and carts.

The monster from the cesspit didn't have too much shopping ahead of it and luckily for me started to move towards the cash register. The cashier must have detected the pungency of the danger heading towards her. Perhaps she had experienced it before. She moved her seat back as far away from the check-out scanner as possible and leant back to give added safety distance.

Although there was a degree of forward movement in my queue I didn't move. My lungs detected an increase in the level of oxygen available, as the abhorrent fog followed it's source, and allowed me to take a near-normal breath. My legs regained their stability. My breakfast remained where it was. I was able to complete the emptying of my trolley. I waited for the dark mass to move away with its packed and paid-for shopping before following my groceries to our bagging area.

I took the opportunity to glance towards the main exit aisle and I'm sure I could see shoppers moving to the left and right to offer a clear central path to allow the moving pollutant haze and owner to depart unhindered.

How can any human being be oblivious to the fact that they are dispensing a repellent smell? Or are they aware but don't care?

Have you experienced a similar incident? What did you do: did you say anything to the person? Is there a tactful way of telling someone they are giving off an obnoxious odour?

©ElliotSampford2013

Home Grown Organic Oranges

Today I picked the last nine oranges, of this season, from the little tree in our rear patio area. We've had a total of twenty-nine fruits this year: the heaviest of them was 17.6 ounces. The juice we get from them is bounteous, smooth and sweet.

Consequence or Coincidence – El Pulpo Arrives.

At 09:33 hrs. today I sent an email to the Orihuela Town Hall annex in Orihuela Costa with a link to the article – Orihuela Costa has many Landfill and Compost Heap Sites – THE STREETS! – that I had posted onto my weblog. I also sent a copy of the email to the two newspapers mentioned in my comment.

Is this a consequence – or is it a coincidence? The compost heap has gone. The result is pleasing whatever the cause; albeit probably a short lived absence of dumped rubbish left in the street.

At 17:10 hrs. today the Council Cleaning Service's hydraulic lift lorry (known as 'El Pulpo') arrived at the waste heap.

At 17:45 hrs. the lorry departed with a full skip.

From the difference between the before-photograph:

and the after-photograph:

you can see the area previously covered by the landfill as indicated by the dark damp patch now visible on the road surface.

© Elliot Sampford 2013

Orihuela Costa has many Landfill and Compost Heap Sites - THE STREETS!

The junction of Calle Ontario and Calle  Baikal Orihuela Costa.

The Orihuela Town Council continues with its policy of using the streets of Orihuela Costa as Landfill and Compost Heap sites.

The pile of rubbish in the photograph at the junction of Calle Ontario and Calle Baikal was first deposited at least three weeks and has continued to grow on a daily basis. This is not a unique problem to this location but one that is repeated throughout Orihuela Costa. I mention this mountain of garbage because it is directly in front of my house. One hundred metres further along C/ Ontario is another heap of an equal size.

This situation is allowed to develop and continue as a direct result of the incompetence of, and neglect by, the Town Council. The problem of the collection of dumped rubbish in the streets has been like a perennial festering wound which has failed to be cured by current and past government teams.

You can see in the photograph a container for the depositing of household rubbish, that is emptied every night, to the left of the waste. To the right a skip is visible that is meant for garden rubbish with the contents being collected twice a week. So nine times a week a Council refuse lorry stops and empties these bins, and the ones further along both streets. That’s at least twenty-nine times in the period the rubbish has been laying in the road. But, the landfill-compost monstrosities in the streets are ignored. An indication of the contempt the Council has for the householders of Orihuela Costa and the environment we live in.

The Mayor, Monserrate Guillén, – who was quick to criticise the ruling Council for the same problem when he was in opposition – and the Councillor for Orihuela Costa, Martina Scheurer, who are both members of the Green Party (Los Verdes) – the party that's supposed to care about the environment – should be ashamed of their failure to rectify the current appalling situation.

My Previous articles:
http://elliotsampford.blogspot.com.es/2010/10/dear-monica-streetfill-sites-update-2.html
http://elliotsampford.blogspot.com.es/2010/05/as-direct-result-of-failure-of-orihuela.html

Recent Newspaper articles:
http://www.theleader.info/494/article/41297/spain/costa-blanca/playing-the-green-waste-game/
http://www.euroweeklynews.com/news/costa-blanca-south/item/117059-green-rubbish-hits-crisis-point-in-orihuela-costa

© Elliot Sampford 2013

Royal Army Pay Corps, Worthy Down, Winchester.

I'm seated on the left of the front-row, who are the others?

I've been going through some items of my memorabilia – photographs and documents – and scanning it onto my computer. It's amazing what we put to the back of our minds until we see a visual reminder.

On the 25th October 1967 I enlisted for six years in the Royal Army Pay Corps. My basic military and then trade training was completed at the RAPC Training Centre, Worthy Down Camp, Winchester.

The photograph is of the squad I was in until we split-up to go to our individual regimental attachment postings. In July 1968 I was posted to attachment with the 1st The Queen's Dragoon Guards in Detmold, Germany.

I've been trying to remember the names of my fellow recruits. I'm sitting on the left in the front-row. I think three of the back-row starting from the left to the centre are Terry Reid (possibly Trevor), Peter Craven and Dave Lowe in the centre. Our training platoon sergeant is middle front-row.

Are you dear reader in the photograph? Even if you're not but were in the RAPC, can you help me to put names to faces? Did you work alongside any of them in either a regiment or a central pay office? If you were in the Army from 1967 onwards do you recognise any of them as being your regimental pay clerk?

© Elliot Sampford 2013

Outward Bound School, Ashburton, Devon.

I am centre front-row [glasses and white jumper]

I've been going through some items of my memorabilia – photographs and documents – and scanning it onto my computer. It's amazing what we forget until we see a visual reminder.

In my youth I attended an Outward Bound Course at Holne Park, Ashburton, Devon. I've found my log book written at the time and a photograph of the group (patrol) I was teamed-up with.

I must have arrived at the centre on Monday 4th April and departed on Saturday 30th April. Unfortunately there isn't a record of the course number or the actual year in my log but based on the historical calendar I believe it was 1966.

It would seem that I was in Drake Patrol along with (difficulty reading my writing at the time) Drew Buck, Jim Clegg, Geof Hogg, Brad Hallowes, Bob Povey, Dick Potter, Dave Ravenscroft, Cliff Swanson, and Andy Wood. The photograph I believe is of our patrol but I do not know who is who, other than I am centre front-row [glasses and white jumper] and the gentleman far-right back-row I assume is the instructor Mr Evans. In the log book I have a note of a Lt. Col. Frazer as the Warden and a Mr Kirk as vice-instructor.

I am intending to write a memoir article about my experience and would appreciate any further details relevant to my time at Ashburton.

Are you, dear reader, one of the people I've mentioned; or know one of them? Or, did you attend an outward bound course at Holne Park some time in April 1966; or do you know someone who did? Are you able to confirm; the course number; the year of attendance; the names I have for the Warden, instructors and participants? It would be good if I was able to allocate/tag names to the members of my patrol in the photograph. Are you able to offer any other information about the Outward Bound School at Ashburton circa 1966?

 © Elliot Sampford

Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm Screening

NHS Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm screening programme

A rupture of a large abdominal aortic aneurysm is usually fatal.

That is why I attended my appointment at a local health centre as part of the NHS Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm screening programme.

The aorta is the main blood vessel that supplies blood to the body. It runs from the heart down through the chest and abdomen. In some people, as they get older, the wall of the aorta in the abdomen can become weak. It can then start to expand and form what is called an abdominal aortic aneurysm, also know as an AAA or 'triple A'.

The possibility of having an aneurysm of this type increases with age and men are six times more likely to have one than women. Age and gender are not the only factors which can affect the chances of having an AAA. The risks are increased for those who smoke, who have high blood pressure, and who have blood relatives where a 'triple A' has been diagnosed. Estimates suggest that 1 in 25 (4%) of men aged between 65 and 74 have an AAA. It is for these reasons that men are invited to attend a screening in the year that they reach 65

Someone with an abdominal aortic aneurysm will not generally notice any symptoms and therefore will be unaware that one has developed within them. A small aneurysm is not dangerous. However, aneurysms can grow as the wall of the aorta stretches and becomes weaker. It is important to monitor their size. Large aneurysms are rare but can be very serious. A weakness in the wall of the aorta can give way. This is known as aneurysm rupture and is usually fatal. The condition is particularly serious because there isn't any warning. However, treatment for abdominal aortic aneurysms detected through screening is highly effective.

The easiest way to find out if if an AAA is present is to have an ultrasound scan of the abdomen. The screening test is simple, pain-free and over and done in less than 10 minutes.

Having confirmed my arrival at the clinic with the receptionist there was a short wait for my appointment time. On entering the consulting room the screening technician checked my details, explained the scan and gave me the opportunity to ask any questions. I was then asked to lie down on the examination bed and to lift up or unbutton my shirt. I did not need to undress. The technician put cold jelly on my abdomen and then moved a small scanner over my skin. The scan picture appeared on the console screen and the technician took the measurements needed to assess the width of my aorta.

On completion of the screening I was given my result straight away. My aorta measured 1.9cm in width which means it is not enlarged, there isn't an aneurysm, so no further monitoring or treatment is required. There is peace of mind. My GP will be informed of the result.

There are four width criteria: normal (no aneurysm) – less than 3cm wide; small aneurysm – between 3cm and 4.4cm wide; medium aneurysm – between 4.5cm and 5.4cm wide; large aneurysm – 5.5cm wide or larger. Each band has its own recommended follow-up procedure.

May I suggest dear reader that if you are male and in your 65th year, and receive an invitation to have a screening then take the opportunity to have it done. If you're over 65 and haven't had a screening then you can ask your GP to arrange an appointment.

Surely it's better for you to find out if there is a potential problem and have treatment if needed; rather than your family to find out when it's too late. Just a thought.

There is more information on the NHS Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm screening programme.

Ibuprofen no good in treating colds or sore throats.

When I have a headache or a cold I usually take ibuprofen to help relieve the symptoms, rather than paracetamol, so I've found the following news release from theUniversity of Southampton of interest.

'A study carried out by the University of Southampton showed that compared with paracetamol, ibuprofen or a combination of both ibuprofen and paracetamol provide no advantage for patients overall with respiratory tract infections (otherwise known as colds or sore throats).

'Additionally steam inhalation, another common treatment method, has no clear benefit and around 2 per cent of people get mild scalding but not bad enough to see a doctor.

'Professor Paul Little, who led the study, comments: “Paracetamol, ibuprofen or a combination of both are the most common courses of treatment for respiratory tract infections. Clinicians should probably not advise patients to use steam inhalation in daily practice as it does not provide symptomatic benefit for acute respiratory infections and a few individuals are likely to experience mild thermal injury. Similarly, routinely advising ibuprofen or ibuprofen and paracetamol together than just paracetamol is also not likely to be effective. However our research has shown that ibuprofen is likely to help children, and those with chest infections.”

'The research also showed that patients were more likely to come back within a month with worsening symptoms or new symptoms if they were prescribed with ibuprofen or ibuprofen with paracetamol. Between 50 per cent and 70 per cent of participants in the study who were prescribed ibuprofen or ibuprofen with paracetamol came back.

'Professor Little admitted this was a surprising result and suggests the treatment may contribute to the progression of the illness. He adds: “This may have something to do with the fact the ibuprofen is an anti-inflammatory. It is possible that the drug is interfering with an important part of the immune response and leads to prolonged symptoms or the progression of symptoms in some individuals. Although we have to be a bit cautious since these were surprise findings, for the moment I would personally not advise most patients to use ibuprofen for symptom control for coughs colds and sore throat.”

'The randomised control trial recruited 899 patients who presented at their GP with respiratory tract infection symptoms. They received different treatment types; paracetamol, ibuprofen or a combination of both. Participants were then told to either take it as needed or at regular intervals (four times a day) and some were also told to take steam inhalation.'

We've survived another Friday the 13th!

I've lived through another Friday the 13^th without any disaster happening to me. You dear reader, the millions living in the United Kingdom and Europe, and the billions living in the World have also survived again.

 

Friggatriskaidekaphobia

Perhaps friggatriskaidekaphobics – or paraskevidekatriaphobics to use the more modern terminology – who believe that superstitions are reality, in that they fear Friday the 13^th, as the unluckiest day of all, may be questioning their phobia.

It is interesting to note that there are no meaningful references to the unsubstantiated thesis of this day being an omen of disaster until after the latter period of the 19^th Century. It would seem to be a modern phobia. 

 

Unluckiest day changes.

How can such a fear of a specific day and number combination be rationalised, when in Greece, Spain, and Spanish speaking countries, it is Tuesday the 13^th that is considered the unluckiest day. In Italy 13 is considered a lucky number so they perpetuate the myth by choosing Friday the 17^th as the infamous day. This makes me wonder. What does a friggatriskaidekaphobic believe when visiting one of the European countries on its alternative, supposedly, unlucky day? Is their fear transferred to a Tuesday or the 17^th or do they ignore it?
  

EuroMillions Lottery.

My earlier mention of Europe brings to mind the EuroMillions Lottery as a contradiction that Friday the 13^th is an unlucky day. The first draw of the lottery was held on Friday 13^th February 2004. There was one lucky ticket holder who won the jackpot prize of £10, 143,000.00 . Since that first draw there have been sixteen further draws held on Friday the 13^th . Many millions, of players have won various amounts on those days. Between the inaugural date and Friday 13^th September 2013 there have been seven Friday-the-13^th draws when a jackpot has been paid out. Nine lucky winners between them have received £236,570,199.00 – On Friday 13^th May 2011 one ticket holder won £105,892,179.00 – how's that for luck?.

I wonder if paraskevidekatriaphobics have a flutter on the EuroMillions Friday-the-13^th draw: surely not; they know it would be a waste of their money – don't they?

© Elliot Sampford 2013

The reality – I am a Senior Citizen now!

It's only Tuesday and this week has highlighted the reality that I am a 'Senior Citizen'!

Claiming my state pension.

With the date of the completion of my sixty-fifth year approaching I investigated, with the aid of the internet (I'm a silver surfer), the procedure for claiming my state pension. By now I should have received an authorisation letter inviting me to complete my claim, online if I wished to, but I haven't. The advice on the Government website is that if the letter doesn't arrive then a telephone call to the pensions office is needed.

I telephoned the helpline with the aim of getting a copy of the missing letter. After a long wait, holding on the line for a real person to answer, I was connected to an extremely helpful lady. I gave her my name and explained my predicament.

“That's not a problem, Mr. Sampford, If you have ten minutes free at the moment I can help you complete your claim,” said the nice lady.

“I'm happy to apply online, later this month, if you can give me a code number or something to authorise me to start my claim when I'm ready.”

“Whilst you're on the phone why not do it now Mr. Sampford? It won't take us long.”

“Well, I don't have all my documents in front of me that I might need.”

“That's not a problem, I can wait if you need any. Let's wait and see if any are needed.”

“OK.”

“Can you confirm your full name.”

I answered the six or seven questions that were put to me.

“That's fine Mr Sampford we've completed your application. If you would like to hang on, I will calculate what your pension will be.”

I only wanted the authorisation to complete my claim online at a later date; but, after an eleven-and-one-half-minute phone call, I'd claimed my pension, knew how much it will be, and when the first payment will be. I'm certainly not complaining about the excellent service I received, from the very, very, nice lady. But, I wasn't ready to have my progression into the reality of being a state pensioner brought home to me so soon. I wanted a little more time to prepare myself.

Concessionary Travel – Bus Pass.

 

Although Natalie and I had been eligible to have a 'free bus pass' for sometime we had not bothered to apply for one before today. I had downloaded the application forms from the County Council's website a few months ago but left them hiding in the filing cabinet.

Yesterday evening, spurred on by my pension encounter during the day, the decision was made, to go the whole hog on the road to senior citizenship, to claim for our old person's bus pass. The application forms were completed; in black ink and with all writing within the designated boxes; copies of the required supporting documents made, and a passport type photograph of each of us found.

Based on our not too distant experience of bureaucracy within local government; admittedly in Spain during the past six years, but that is possibly another story; we decided to get to the council offices as soon after 09:30 hrs. (opening time) as possible. We decided to take a chance and not carry emergency food and drink supplies in case of a long wait – we would have done in Spain.

We arrived at City Hall at 09:42 hrs. – according to the purchased parking ticket – and entered the building with a degree of trepidation: which office did we need to find; how long would the queue be; had we brought all the correct documents; when would we see daylight again.

We need not have worried. We were dealt with by friendly and efficient members of staff. Only twenty-five minutes had gone by when we walked out of the building with our new bus passes tucked safely away amongst our many other plastic cards.

What was worrying though was the way I looked admiringly at my new symbol confirming I'm a Senior Citizen now.

Is a Senior Railcard the next stop?

© Elliot Sampford 2013

The Museum of Lincolnshire Life.

We (Natalie & I) have lived in and around Lincoln for forty years but had never visited the Museum of Lincolnshire Life until August 2013.

Location.

It is situated on Burton Road, Lincoln, housed in a former military barracks that were built in 1857 as the home of the Royal North Lincoln Militia. The buildings were in continuous use for military purposes until 1963. Close by is the City's impressive 'Cathedral Quarter' which includes the Cathedral and the Castle.

Main Entrance - Museum of Lincolnshire Life

Having eventually found somewhere to park our car, within reasonable walking distance; we entered the red brick Victorian Grade 11 listed buildings via the main entrance archway, above which is the regimental badge of the original occupants.

The staff manning the entrance and gift shop gave us a friendly welcome. We were given a leaflet explaining the route we should follow to get the best experience from our visit. I mentioned our forty-year delay in calling in and the amiable assistant said “I'm sure you will find the wait worthwhile.”

The exhibits displayed cover the period from 1750 to the present time encompassing examples of agricultural and rural life, local industry, transport, military history, and Victorian life at home and work.

Bedroom

The walkabout starts in the domestic zone with room layouts for the bedroom, kitchen, parlour and finally the washhouse. For visitors in their senior years the artefacts on display should bring back memories, the majority good but some not so, of life in their early years, and those of their parents and grandparents.

Kitchen

Parlour

Wash House

Sadler's Workshop

Royal Lincolnshire Regiment. 

Passing through the stable, the saddler's and blacksmith's workshops, you arrive at the military galleries. This interesting area shows the history of the Royal Lincolnshire Regiment and its forebears. Details are displayed of the daily life of soldiers through the years, the uniforms worn, the equipment used, the campaigns that were fought throughout the world, the stories of gallantry and the medals awarded.

The tour continues into the weakest, disappointing transport area containing a few exhibits of modes of travel. Amongst them a small number of bicycles, motorcycles, three horse-drawn carriages and a 1920 Bullnose Morris car.

Can you remember where you rode these bicycles? 

 A tank called Flirt.

Stepping into the industry and agriculture gallery the most impressive exhibit is the genuine First World War tank called 'Flirt'.

Lincoln was renowned for its engineering skills and was the birthplace of the military tank. There are examples of industrial engines, steam engines and farm equipment designed and built by indigenous companies; whose presence now only exists in the city and the county as names of streets and buildings.

The final section is the commercial area. Here one can reminisce amongst the Victorian and Edwardian shops of the Ironmonger, Basket Maker, Printer, Post Office, Draper, Chemist, and General Store.

Goal achieved.

The museum's aim is to 'reflect the history and culture of the people of Lincolnshire': it achieves that. Our two-hour travel back in time was an enjoyable and informative experience. The welcoming assistant was correct: our visit was worthwhile.

© Elliot Sampford 2013

An easy abundance on the eye.

On a overcast day this rose is a piece of sunshine in my garden.

 © Elliot Sampford 2013

Judicial Hanging!

Fifty years ago, on the 15^th August 1963, Henry John Burnett was the last man to be hanged in Scotland.

At the end of his three day trial, for the murder of Thomas Guyan, he was found guilty on the 25^th July 1963. The jury took only twenty-five minutes to complete it's deliberation and reach it's verdict of guilty on a 13 to 2 majority vote.

It was at 08:00 hours, in Craiginches Prison, Aberdeen, that Harry Allen, Chief Executioner in the United Kingdom, carried out the sentence of the court. The entry for cause of death on the Death Certificate of Henry John Burnett was 'Judicial Hanging'. It's a curious fact that the gallows used were the newest in the UK having been built in 1962. Not only was this the last hanging in Scotland but also the only hanging in Aberdeen for one hundred and fifty years.

Harry Allen was appointed Chief Executioner in October 1955 following the retirement of Albert Pierrepont, the long-serving hangman in England who executed at least 400 people. For fourteen years prior to his appointment as Chief Executioner Mr. Allen had acted as assistant to Mr Pierrepont.

On the 20^th December 1961 Mr. Allen carried out the last execution in Northern Ireland. This was of Robert McGaddery, in the Crumlin Road Gaol, Belfast. On the 13^th August 1964; just two days short of a year after that of Henry John Burnett; he officiated at one of the last two executions in the United Kingdom. He undertook the execution of Gwynne Owen Evans in Strangeways Prison, Manchester. At the same time, close-by in Walton Gaol, Liverpool, his colleague Robert Leslie Stewart (Joint Chief Executioner) terminated the life of Peter Anthony Allen. The two deceased had been found jointly guilty of the murder of John Alen West.

A further execution of note on the 15^th August was that of Josef Jakobs in 1941. Found guilty of being a German spy, he was executed by firing squad in the Tower of London. His was the last execution in the Tower of London.

A year after the executions of Evans and Allen, capital punishment was suspended as a result of 'The Murder(Abolition of Death Penalty) Act 1965'. Capital punishment for murder was abolished in 1969 in Great Britain and in Northern Ireland in 1973.

The inclusion of capital punishment, Judicial Murder, within the constitution and legal system of any country is abhorrent. No civilised, humane country should have the death penalty as a form of punishment within its legal system. Only barbarous states and countries, execute, murder, convicted criminals. Any religion that sanctions the use of the death penalty is a barbaric faith.

 © Elliot Sampford 2013

Revolving 'Storm door structure'.

Image courtesy of  FreeDigitalPhotos.net

How many of you wonder, as you complete your half-circle journey when using one, who invented the revolving door.

Well, the answer is a Swiss-American gentleman called Theophilus Van Kannel – Born 1841, Died 24 December 1919 – is considered as the inventor of the style of revolving door as we know it today. It was on this date one hundred and twenty-five years ago (7th August 1888) that he obtained the United States patent number 387571 for his invention of a 'Storm door structure'.

However, the first world patent was in fact granted, six-and-one-half years before that to Theophilus, to H Bockhacker, from Berlin, who obtained a German patent on the 22^nd December 1881 for his 'Tür ohne Luftzug' (Door without draft of air). It was Van Kannel's design that became the commercial success.

The door was not invented, as some people believed at that time, to stop horses entering into buildings.

It was devised as a means; to prevent wind, dust, snow, rain and other weather elements from entering the internal space when it is used to access a building; to allow persons to pass both in and out at the same moment in time without colliding into each other; the exclusion of street noise intruding into the building; and to reduce the adverse effect of the difference in air pressure inside and outside of a property has on opening conventional hinged-doors in the entrances of a multi-storey edifices. The original design and specification was for a three partition door system. To enable long objects through the revolving door a partition included a hinge facility to allow it to be folded back.

In more recent times additional benefits have materialized from the system. In the control of air-conditioned environments; being an aid to energy efficiency; by keeping warm air in, and cold air out, of a building. In security control the system can be used to manage the flow and speed of persons entering or leaving an area. Within the partitioned sections a scanner can be installed to unobtrusively examine people and their possessions.

Which way do revolving doors circulate? The answer is – in countries which drive on the right-hand side of the road the rotation is normally counter-clockwise whereas in those countries (Australia and New Zealand for example) that drive on the left it is clockwise. It means one travels round with the door the same direction as round a roundabout when in a vehicle. However, to add to the confusion, in the United Kingdom it can be either way. In the City Hall in London they seemed not to be able to decide which is best so installed a duo-counter-rotating revolving door.

For the 'Usefulness of his invention' Van Kannel was awarded the John Scott Medal by the Franklin Institute in 1889. The 'Storm door structure' wasn't his only invention. He went on to develop the 'Cherry Stoner', a 'changeable fulcrum door check', an aid to help close hinged doors automatically, and a fair ground ride called 'Witching Waves' – this was a predecessor of the dodgem type rides – which was installed on Coney Island, New York, in 1907.

I wonder if you will think about Theophilus Van Kannel next time you use a revolving door at the supermarket, department store, office building, or airport.

Amazon.co.uk did not tell me the truth!

I am not at all happy with the service from Amazon.co.uk. When I ordered on the 24^th July the website showed there were three of the item I ordered in stock. Amazon.co.uk confirmed receipt of the order which works on the basis that the item I ordered was in stock and that it would be delivered five to seven days later. On the 25^th July I'm told that my delivery had been dispatched – which means it must have been in-stock – and I could expect the item today and that amazon.co.uk had taken payment as my 'contract to purchase' had been completed. Yesterday (31^st July) I received a telephone call asking me if I would consider accepting a different make and different model with different specifications as an alternative to my ordered item. I confirmed that I wanted what I had ordered and what had been stated as dispatched to me.

Today I'm informed that the item I ordered had not in fact been dispatched, even-though a payment had been taken from my credit card, because they didn't have any in stock.

On the 24^th July 2013, having placed an order on Amazon.co.uk, I received an email with the subject line: 'Your Order with Amazon.co.uk.' They wrote to me: 'Thanks for your order, Elliot Sampford.. . . Delivery estimate: 29 July 2013 – 1^st Aug 2013.' They confirmed: 'This e-mail is only an acknowledgement of receipt of your order and your contract to purchase these items is not complete until we send you an e-mail notifying you that the items have been dispatched to you'. Fair enough.

On the 25^th July 2013 I received the email entitled: 'Your Amazon.co.uk order of . . . has been dispatched.' this confirmed that my contract to purchase the item was complete. The email went on to confirm: 'Dispatch Confirmation Order # xxx-xxxxxxx-xxxxxxx . . . We thought you'd like to know that . . . Your order is on the way, and can no longer be changed . . . Your estimated delivery date is: Thursday, August 01, 2013'. The email also confirmed that payment had been taken for the order: 'Paid by Visa: £xxx.xx.'

On the 30^th July 2013 I received an email from Amazon which said: 'Dear Elliot Sampford, Thank you for placing your order with us. I tried contacting you on the telephone number that we have on file xxxxxxxxxxx but could not get through to you. In order to fulfil your order in timely manner, we instructed our supplier to process and dispatch your order directly to you. They have contacted that there is an issue with the order which we would like to discuss with you. Kindly provide your best contact phone number and a convenient time, or contact us on 084568001708.

Today I received the following email from Amazon: 'Dear Elliot Sampford, It was a pleasure speaking with you earlier. As discussed, I am sorry that we could not supply the exact item that you ordered. I have initiated a full refund for the transaction.

Why was my order accepted for an item of which they had no stock? Why was I informed that a product that didn't exist had been dispatched to me? Why was payment taken for an item that didn't exist?

I am not at all satisfied with the service from Amazon.co.uk and supplier.

I find it totally unacceptable to be mislead by any supplier of goods or services. Especially one that takes money for something that cannot be supplied because it doesn't exist.

I expect to see the refund due to me  on my credit card account tomorrow.

I wonder if any of my readers have had similar problems.

A unique channel crossing.

Was it a bird; was it a plane?

images.nationalgeographic.com

No: it was Felix Baumgartner taking a quick trip to France without using a ferry or the channel tunnel! He was the first person to skydive across the English channel.

It was on the 31st July 2003 (ten years ago today) at 05:09 hours, that Felix leapt out of a plane at 9000 metres above Dover, England, and headed for Cap Blanc-Nez, near Calais, France, some 35 kilometres away. All he needed for his travel was an aerodynamic jumpsuit with a 1.8 metre XC-K1 composite carbon wing strapped to his back, a tank of oxygen to assist his breathing, and a parachute to help him land as safely as possible.

After exiting the plane he initially reached speeds of 360 kilometres per hour with this reducing to 220 kph during most of his 6 minute and 22 seconds flight. Cloud cover that early morning made his journey a little difficult and after landing Felix said: “I couldn't see the other side so I had no reference point. I was flying over the clouds all the time. But, in the last 2,000 metres I could see those lights right over there so I knew I was going to make it.” Whilst recovering from the exhausting flight safely on French soil he told a BBC reporter: “It was total freedom. If you step out of the aeroplane at this altitude it's perfect because you see the sun rise . . . It's the beginning of the day. You're totally alone, there's just you, your equipment, your wing – and your skills. I like it.”

When I'm crossing the channel from Dover to Calais, I think I'll stick to using my car, a train, and the channel tunnel – even though it will take me 35 minutes.

Lip Dub Lincoln

A lip dub celebration across the historic heart of Lincoln. Dancing and singing along to Take That's Shine and Never Forget.

Well done Lincoln!



Read the story behind the making of Lip Dub Lincoln

Skipping breakfast may increase coronary heart disease risk

The Department of Nutrition at Harvard School of Public Health in Boston, Massachusetts, have published a report based on a large 16-year study of food frequency questionnaire data and tracked health outcomes from 1992 to 2008 on 26,902 male health professionals ages 45-82. The study collected comprehensive questionnaire data from the participants and accounted for many important factors such as TV watching, physical activity, sleep, diet quality, alcohol intake, medical history, BMI, and social factors like whether or not the men worked full-time, were married, saw their doctor regularly for physical exams, or smoked currently or in the past.

The conclusion  finds men who reported that they skipped breakfast had higher risk of heart attack or death from coronary heart disease. The timing of meals, whether it's missing a meal in the morning or eating a meal very late at night, may cause adverse metabolic effects that lead to coronary heart disease. Even after accounting for modest differences in diet, physical activity, smoking and other lifestyle factors, the association between skipping breakfast (or eating very late at night) and coronary heart disease persisted.

Read more details in ScienceDaily: Skipping breakfast may increase coronary heart disease risk

No Inflatables -- Colchonetas No

What could be the repercussions of ignoring this rule?

Mark and Jane were enjoying their two-week honeymoon, staying in her parent's Spanish holiday villa, in a compact residential urbanization in the Costa Blanca. They had been married on Jane's twenty-first birthday and Mark is almost three years older.

It was the seventh day of their married life. The cloudless azure sky was offering no protection from the searing heat of the blazing fireball directly above them. To try to cool themselves they decided to use the communal swimming pool for a refreshing dip in the crystal clear water. It was only the second day that they had used the facility.

On the previous occasion, two days before, it had been brought to their attention, by two of the older and permanent residents within the complex, that the use of inflatable air-beds or similar objects was not permitted in the pool area. George, a placid and polite gentlemen, on entering the area and seeing Mark and Jane's inflatable armchair floating on the water had said: “It's not Edith's and my intention to be killjoys but air-bed type things are not permitted in the pool. The rules displayed on the poolside notice board clearly confirm this fact.”

“My parents own part of this pool so the rules don't apply to us. The rules are only for visitors so we'll do what we want when we want,” retorted Jane.

“The rules are for the safety of everyone using the area,” Edith replied amicably.

“It's a stupid rule,” said Mark, adding as an afterthought, “and we don't need boring old farts telling us what to do.”

From the solarium of the villa they could see that no one else was in the pool area so they decided to continue to ignore the rules and for the second time take the fuchsia blow-up armchair for Jane to use on the water. Mark had purchased the throne for his princess on their visit to the beach, at the start of their holiday, as it was in her favourite colour.

Although both she and Mark were adequate swimmers, Jane found the movement of the floating armchair on the water, when Mark created breaking waves each time he performed one of his show-off dives, a little unnerving. She liked to keep the buoyant armchair close; within a steadying arm's reach; to the promenade edge of the pool to ensure she wasn't tipped over into the water. Especially today as she didn't want to get her hair wet.

After fifteen minutes of Jane sitting relaxed and regal in the floating princess' throne and Mark getting bored with executing his mediocre range of dives he said: “Come on Jane you can't sit there all of the time, get in and have a swim.”

“No; I've told you as we're going out tonight I don't want to get my hair wet. That travel hair dryer is useless.”

“Never mind that I'm sure I've seen a more powerful one in your mum's wardrobe.”

With that Mark dived into the water. Keeping himself underwater, as close to the bottom of the pool as possible, he swam towards Jane and positioned himself directly under the inflatable, invisible to her sitting relaxed above. He bent his legs, bringing his knees as close to his chest as possible, with his feet touching the base of the pool. He stretched his arms straight-up towards the underside of Jane's floating haven and uncoiled his ranine legs, pushing hard onto the floor to give him maximum speed towards the surface. The combination of the forces, of his hands hitting the armchair and the bow wave created by his rapid movement through the water, threw Jane from the lifting, capsizing inflatable towards the side of the pool. Everything happened so quickly and unexpectedly that she wasn't able to react to protect herself. Her scream was silenced when her head crashed into the overhanging kerb-stone of the pool edge.

Pleased with his successful torpedoing of Jane into the water, Mark quickly swam underwater to the shallow end of the pool to protect himself from the anticipated wrath of Jane, by putting distance between the two of them. On surfacing, his underwater internal chuckling changed to external raucous laughing. His eyes were drawn first to the large fuchsia island floating upside-down on the far side of the pool. He looked for Jane, expecting to see her rapidly swimming towards him to reap her revenge. But she wasn't: Jane was lying face down, motionless in the water.

He waited a few moments anticipating a sudden movement when she would start her attack. She remained still: the only movement was the effect of the ripples in the water on her body. He thought she couldn't hold her breath much longer. She didn't raise her head to breathe.

“Come on Jane, enough is enough, stop mucking about.” He waited for a reaction – there wasn't one.

“Jane! Stop it!” he shouted and speedily swam towards her.

On reaching her, he grabbed hold of her shoulder that was furthest away from him and pulled it towards himself to roll her onto her back. He expected her to attack him but she lay motionless. There was no gasping for breath. Her glassy eyes were staring skywards. Her lips had a light blue hue. There was a large graze and bruising to her temple. She was unconscious.

Mark knew he had to get Jane out of the water and get her breathing. He pushed her to the side of the pool. He tried to lift her out but the water was too deep; he couldn't stand on the bottom; so each time he tried, her weight pushed him underwater. He leapt out of the water onto the side, and tried to lift her from there. He couldn't hold on to her wet body, her flimsy bikini didn't give him enough fabric to grip hold of, and she was too heavy for him on his own. They were alone in the swimming pool area.

He started shouting: “Help . . . Help . . . I need help here!”

There wasn't any response. No one seemed to be about. It was the middle of siesta time, the hottest part of the day, so most sensible people were indoors in the cool shade.

The only way he was going to get her out of the water was to move her to the shallow end. He grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her along like a floating manikin.

He continued shouting: “Help . . . Help . . . I need help here in the pool!”

Once he'd got Jane to where he thought the water was shallow enough Mark jumped into the water alongside her. He put his arms underneath Jane and started to lift her. As soon as her body was level with the beige kerb-stones he rolled her away from himself towards the safety of dry land.

He heard a male voice, from the area of the entrance gate into the pool area: “Hello in there, how can I help you?”

“My wife has had an accident in the water. I don't think she's breathing. Please come and help me.”

“The gate is locked. I can't get in.”

“I'll get our key and come and let you in.” Mark said as he rushed to where Jane and he had put their towels. He couldn't find it. “I can't find the bunch of keys. Where the hell is it. . . Damn she must have had it with her sunglasses and mobile phone in the cup holder in the armchair. As it's turned over they're all at the bottom of the pool. Please call 112 and tell them I need an ambulance for her urgently.”

“No problem. I'll also go and find someone who's got a key so the medics can get in when they arrive. I'll get some extra help.”

Mark knew he had to do something to start Jane breathing. He hadn't had any training in giving CPR but he'd seen it being enacted in television programmes. He had to try. Anything was better than nothing.

George and Edith had risen from their siesta and as they leisurely approached the pool area for their daily rejuvenating swim they could see the fuchsia inflatable and Mark leaning over Jane, his arms outstretched in front of himself, repeatedly pushing down on her chest.

“What game are those two love-birds up-to now? We could do without rudeness from them again,” said George.

“There's something wrong George, I can sense it, come on hurry-up let's get in there.”

“She's not breathing; I can't get her to breathe; I don't know what I'm supposed to do!” shouted Mark when they reached him.

“Come on son, get up out the way, let Edith deal with this; she's a retired accident and emergency nurse. I'll do my bit by calling 'Emergencies' on 112.” He refrained from mentioning to Mark that they might be old but they weren't useless old farts. Now was not the time – perhaps later.

Edith went into automatic mode. She knelt down beside Jane, placed one hand over the other, fingers interlocked, on her patients breastbone, in-line with the nipples, and started the rapid depressions. She was thinking to herself: 'Push 1, 2, 3 . . . . 28, 29,30. Hold the head back; make sure the airway is clear; pinch the nose; cover the mouth and blow in two breaths. Push 1, 2, 3 . . .

It was nearly twelve minutes, although it seemed like hours had passed, before they heard the duo-tone siren of the SUMA ambulance coming to help. George had ensured that the entrance gates to the complex and the swimming pool had been secured open to allow the medics fast, easy access. Edith was tiring; her energy and strength almost used up doing CPR during the long wait; and relieved to hand over to the ambulance team. She was despondent, distraught that she hadn't managed to get Jane to return.

The conclusion of the investigation carried out by the Guardia Civil officers who attended the scene was that it was an unfortunate case of accidental death. Jane had become unbalanced when she climbed onto the inflatable armchair, that contrary to the rules of the complex was being used in the swimming pool. She had slipped, fallen, hit the temple part of her head on the poolside kerb-stone, and drowned as a result of being unconscious and lying face down for too long a time in the water. The medical autopsy revealed Jane had a thinning of the skull in the region of her temple resulting in a fracture and an intra cranial haemorrhage.

Mark had been the only witness to what had actually happened and why. He knows who is truly responsible for Jane losing her life; for him becoming a widower at twenty-four years of age; for Jane's parents losing their only daughter.

Will he ignore safety rules in the future?

  © Elliot Sampford 2013

Link between omega-3 fatty acids and increased prostate cancer risk confirmed

A second large, prospective study by scientists at Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center has confirmed the link between high blood concentrations of omega-3 fatty acids and an increased risk of prostate cancer.

The latest findings indicate that high concentrations of EPA, DPA and DHA -- the three anti-inflammatory and metabolically related fatty acids derived from fatty fish and fish-oil supplements -- are associated with a 71 percent increased risk of high-grade prostate cancer. The study also found a 44 percent increase in the risk of low-grade prostate cancer and an overall 43 percent increase in risk for all prostate cancers.

The increase in risk for high-grade prostate cancer is important because those tumors are more likely to be fatal.

Alan Kristal, Dr.P.H., the senior author of the report that was published on the 11th July in the online edition of the Journal of the National Cancer Institute, and member of the Fred Hutch Public Health Sciences Division is quoted as saying: "We've shown once again that use of nutritional supplements may be harmful."

Read more in ScienceDaily: Link between omega-3 fatty acids and increased prostate cancer risk confirmed

Garden Reclamation

Where's my lawn gone?

 Last Thursday we returned home, after our ten weeks visit to Spain, to find our neatly mown back-garden lawn; not quite up to the standard of a tennis court; had turned into a meadow and the previously tidy shrubberies looking like miniature jungles. The grass had grown to knee level for an average height person but for a shorty like me it was up to my thigh.

 On Friday afternoon, assisted only by my middle-aged electric hover lawnmower, I began my garden reclamation. I couldn't delay the start as the rotary washing line had to be brought into use, without delay, and part of is circle of operation was above the lawn. After working for a nearly two hours in the heat from the blazing sun in the cloudless azure sky, and the added fact that the Wimbledon Men's Semi-final was being shown on the television, I stopped for the day with only part of the task done.

I've almost found it!

Three more mornings of half-day working; had to take into account the Wimbledon Finals on Saturday and Sunday, and the afternoon siesta periods; were needed to return the lawn, its edging, and neighbouring nine inches wide strips of the edges of the shrubberies back to some resemblance of acceptability. The cut grass is looking beige and dry but the emerald green hue will soon return.

There it is!

During the time of my labours I was constantly under the observation of the resident family of Blackbirds. They were vigilantly inquisitive, seemingly happy that they could probe for worms and grubs on the newly cut area. They were venturing very close to me, and my hover, quickly moving into fresh pastures beige.

It's keeping its eye on me.