grumpyf1

The RAC Foundation say that young drivers are “more likely to crash”. In other news, the Pope is, apparently, “likely to be Catholic”. Apart from stating the bleeping obvious, the RAC Foundation do have a very serious point. 12% of people hurt or killed in a shunt are involved in an accident with 17-19 year olds. That’s shocking. Even more so when you take into account that drivers in that age range make up just 1.5% of those with a driving licence. To make an already appalling statistic even more alarming, that 12% figure jumps up to a whopping 15.8% on roads here in Cumbria. Plans to introduce a probationary licence system were recently put on hold by the government. These would have included a ‘curfew’ period unless the car contained someone over 30, lower legal alcohol limits, and drivers doing some of their learning stages in Motorway conditions. I was pretty terrified the first time I drove in traffic (a milk float, someone on a bicycle and the nice old lady from 2 ...

I was contemplating the lack of comments on any of my North West Evening Mail newspaper columns on their website at lunchtime the other day, and noticed that fellow columnist, Tim Farron (local MP and President of the Liberal Democrats), was similarly afflicted. Commenting on this on twitter elicited a response from the man himself: Considering it was the not insignificant day of local and European elections in the UK, I thought it was jolly decent of him to reply. We had an even more bizarre exchange around Christmas time, which was something to do with Santa using cloaking technology to avoid radar detection. And they say politicians are all aloof and boring...

People in white lab coats believe walking 10,000 steps a day will significantly improve our health. They haven’t mentioned what happens if you do more than that, but I’m hoping it’s not something terrible... I tend to believe just about anything I see on TV and, from watching far too many scary episodes of Horizon, I came to the conclusion that I probably wasn’t walking enough. Mind you, the number of walkers who get bashed over the head in ITV 9pm dramas is quite alarming, but it’s important to get things in perspective: Early heart attack, or moderate risk of getting brain caved in (possibly by David Tennant or Olivia Colman)? Sure, I wander downstairs for breakfast, and then have to walk all the way out to the car to drive to work. I even have to get out in Ambleside to pick up a large cappuccino, and the staff car park must be a whole minute’s walk away from the office. I should probably be requesting company shoes. But the doubt still remained. Was I getting the full 10K...

I’ve met loads of kids. I even was one once (a considerable time ago) and they are fantastically non-judgemental, and accepting of stuff adults find odd. We are born without prejudice, or pre-conceptions about the actions of others. As a toddler, it’s a fantastical world of getting fed, having a snooze, exploring all sorts of interesting bits of yourself with your fingers, and getting someone else to clean up after you. After a while, the little ‘uns start taking on board the actions of those immediately on-hand. It’s only at this point that they start viewing others as perhaps doing something wrong or naughty, and begin the process of approving/disapproving of others. These attitudes are based on the grown-ups they’re in contact with. Fine and dandy, until you realise that those with a few more years on the biological clock sometimes have opinions and views that aren’t necessarily good, or kind, ones. A 5-year old boy called Romeo Clarke was recently barred from after-sch...

It’s always great to share public transport with drunk people. It’s even more fun when it’s at a time most sane folks are contemplating a bowl of Corn Flakes. I recently had the delight of getting up at 5.30am to catch a train on a Saturday. I consumed cappuccinos, in an attempt to blot out the terrifying realisation that there actually is a 5.30 in the day that isn’t at tea time, but fellow travellers were starting their day with something a bit stronger than my frothy coffee. On our trip to the wilds of Yorkshire, I was thrilled to see a party of twenty-something lads get on board our carriage of delight, and quickly realised they were on a stag weekend. It wasn’t hard to deduce this, as some remained standing in the entrance area, whilst others sat down a few rows of seats away. Despite the train being busy, the separated group continued their shouted conversation, which was seemingly based around some kind of rule that meant you have to swear every other word. Wearing ...

Video game archaeologists are a thing now, apparently. So when did the future become the past? Apart from all the other reasons (aches and pains, not understanding what a ‘One Direction’ is, inner-ear hair growth etc.) it’s another sure sign I’m getting old. This particular history lesson is a warning from a time when video games consoles had just been hewn from the rawest of plastic, and squash consumption left you with orange glass-marks either side of your mouth for the rest of the day. In a time before video had finished off the radio star, the late 70s saw the thrilling arrival of interactive games (of any shape imaginable, but only if it was made up of squares) you could play on your television, as long as your Mum wasn’t watching The Generation Game, and it wasn’t past your bedtime. And you could afford it. And you hadn’t been sent to bed early for smacking your little brother round the head with a Monopoly board. Again. What with VHS recording and the digital watch...