Category Archives: Miscellaneous

As the title suggests this is a mixed bunch of pieces. What more can I say? Try your pot luck. You might like what you get.

One Direction

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ONE DIRECTION

This is a British Irish band. It is a five piece boy band. These five boys come from different cities in the UK and Republic of Ireland. One of the English members is half Pakistani.

They are considered good looking as well as musically gifted. Harry Styles is their front man. They are noted for their big hair and their numerous tattoos. They sing songs like ‘One way or another’ as well as love songs. They are exceedingly popular with teenage girls.

They have toured many nations. They have numberless dedicated fans.

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  1. What nationality are the band members?
  2.  Who is the front man?

3. What is special about their apperance?

 

4. Is this a girl band?

 

5. Who are their loyalest fans?

6. Name a song by them?

7. How many members of the band are there?

 

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Why do people sometimes have an anal fixation?

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Some people derive sexual pleasure from their anus. This is bizarre and unhealthy. I am not suggesting that it is unethical or that people should be ashamed of this.

We have sexual urges for reproductive reasons. Our instincts usually have a biological purpose. Rectal sex has no procreative purpose. Indeed it is wasteful. It can cause people to catch infections because of the bacteria in the rectum. Men can contract such infection and women can catch vaginal infection if their boyfriend is double dipping. Bum sex caused lower bowel damage. This is before we talk about communicable diseases. At the very least botty sex is a waste of energy and semen. I am not suggesting people should refrain from it. If they find it enjoyable then go ahead.

Some people like to stimulate their anuses for the sake of sexual arousal. Some men like prostate massage including straight men. But putting one’s hand inside one;s rectum is unhealthy. Everyone knows that this is the filthiest part of the body.

Gay men often like rectal intercourse. Being a homosexual is not shameful or immoral. My point is that biologically it does not make sense. Let these men do as they wish. There may well be a gay gene. I suspect it is a misfiring or the reproductive urge. We now have IVF. But if we did not have IVF we would need people to be straight – most of them. If too many people were gay the human race would have become extinct.

I suspect those who have a penchant for anal sex have a gene that has gone wrong. The generative instinct has been a little misplaced. They are doing something a tad unhealthy and unproductive. Let people enjoy their sexuality however they want. This is a comment and I am not being judgmental.

a dream of the bairn.

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I was with the child. he had come out of school on top pf the hill. it was not his school. looked a bit liek near my hotel in Cuba. it was not his.

He came with me and he was elated to see me. How I am anguished not to be with him more. PerhaPS I am thinking this because of aggro with my pater.

I took him on a red double decker Lodnon bus. we were chatting gleefully. It was an old routmaster with no back door

he wanted to get ff while it was moving. I fooloshly let him and got off too. the he waned tpo get anc on so he chase dit. so did I. he held onto the while pole for a while and ran along then he lifted himself on. I jumped on. Later he fell on the bus face first and hurt himsle.f I cradled him. he  oaned but was not badly hurt. I fear being in charge of him. I dd not want hom to get hurt.

I had seen his mum yellow o skype the nigt before but did not call. was on a bsuiness call.

A dream of the NHS.

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I was wandering around London on a rainy day. There was a grim ferro concrete building. I knew it to be an NHS hospital. I went into it. Inside there were many beds with leather matresses but no sheets. Almost all were empty. There was row after row – tapering away. The place was dimly lit. One could like there and rest awaiting medical attention. A few bandaged men lay there. is aw no women. It qas quiet.

Later I exited and got on a red routemaster. This double decker took me around the city – somewhere in northern London. Maybe becase I have been thinking off paying a visit to VInne in future.

I met someone  I know. do noot recall whom. The whole ambience was dispiritng. This is possibly oweing the fact I was reminiscing about feb 2009 yesternight.

All about Astana

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Astana is the capital of the Republic of Kazakhstan. Astana was founded in 1830. In those days it was named Akmola which translates as ”white grave”. In 1830 Kazakhstan was becoming united with Russia and Russian people were moving to Kazakhstan. In the 1850s a railway line was built to Akmola.

Akmola became an important administrative centre. A lot of trade was done here. Some factories were set up. There was a lot of fighting around Akmola in the 1920s. This was the time of the Russian Civil War. Eventually the Soviet Government regained control of the area. The Kazakh Soviet Socialist Republic was founded. The Kazakh S S R was part of the USSR. The captial of Kazakhstan was Almaty.

People from other parts of the Soviet Union moved to Akmola in the 1930s. They were from Russia, the Ukraine, Belarus and Georgia for example.

In the Second World War some factories in Akmola made weapons for the Red Army. Soldiers from Akmola fight bravely. This helped the Red Army to win.

After the Second World War the Soviet Government saw that Kazakhstan could be good for farming. The new leader was Nikita Khruschev. Khruschev was the First Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. Khruschev said that Kazakhstan was full of virgin lands. He moved many more people to Akmola. He renamed the city Tselinograd.

In 1991 the Soviet Union came to an end. The Soviet Union divided into 15 countries. One of them was Kazakhstan. AFter a few years the President of Kazakhstan, Nursultan Nazarbayev, decided to move the capital to Akmola. He did this in 1997. Akmola was renamed Astana.

Astana has almost 800 000 people. Astana is world famous for its architecture. It is a city of the future. It has many lines of symmetry. There are enormous and very impressive buildings. Akorda Palace is the presidential palace. It is a beautiful and stunning building. The Beyterek is a fantastic stylised tree. This wonderful building is based on the old Kazakh legend of a bird that laid a golden egg. From the top of this structure you can see for many miles.

There are plenty of shopping centres around the main square. There are lots of five star hotels and fabulous restaurants. The Khan Shatyr is a magnificent shopping and entertainment centre. It looks like a tent. Architecture here is very daring and ambitious. No expense is spared. The Palace of Peace and Reconciliation is another awe striking building in the shape of a pyramid. There is a very tall flag pole near Duman Hotel. There are also buildings with arches and these are very attractive to look at.

The city is growing rapidly. A lot of businesses have set up here. Astana is becoming ever more successful and impressive.

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1. In which year was Akmola founded?

2. What is the capital of Kazakhstan?

3. What does Akmola mean in English?

4. Why was Akmola important in the 19th century?

5. What city was the capital of Kazakhstan in the 20th century?

6. Who moved many more people to Kazakhstan in the 1950s?

7. What was the name of Astana before 1997?

8. Who is the president of Kazakhstan?

9. Name another nationality that lives in Astana besides Kazakhs?

10. When did Astana become the capital?

11. Name one famous building in Astana and say why you like it? (5)

12. Why is Astana so successful? (5)

Wrestling

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This sport has been around for thousands of years. The first documented wrestling bouts were in Ancient Greece almost 1 000 years ago. At the Olympic Games in Ancient Greece there were wrestling matches. Greco-Roman wrestling evolved from what we think the rules were in ancient times. Greco is another adjective for Greek.

Freestyle wrestling is also a popular sport in Central Asia. Freestyle invoves a circle within a circle. Two wrestlers of about the same weight face off and on a signal they engage. They must try to get their opponents shoulders pinned down. Then a win will be declared by the referee. Hitting, kicking and biting are not allowed.

Wrestling is popular in Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan, Azerbaijan, Iran, Pakistan and several other countries. It is an Olympic sport. This sport requires strength, agility, speed, cunning and courage.

Women wrestle against women and men wrestle against men. It is fantastic for cardiovascular help and building muscle. Wrestlers tend to go on a high protein diet to build muscle.

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Answer in full sentences.

1. What is wrestling?

2. Which is the first country known to have had wrestling?

3. How many circles are there on a freestyle wrestling mat?

4. What is not allowed in freestyle wrestling? (3)

5. Name five countries where wrestling is popular? (5)

6. Is there wrestling in the Olympics?

7. In what ways is this sport good for your health? (3)

8. Do you like wrestling? Explain your answer. (4)

9. What are some skills needed in wrestling? (2)

A tribute to Bill.=============================================

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Bill was the chaplain of my college for many years. He was a cheery, chubby and ever welcome presence bouncing around the college. He was totally dedicated to serving everyone in the college from freshers, to scouts right up to the Master. He was a priest who had none of the loftiness or falsity that sometimes afflicts men of the cloth. He only ever wore clericals for leading worship. It is as though he was a living textbook for how to be a chaplain.

I remember my first few days in college. There was an information session for us freshers. Bill introduced himself to the undergraduates and said ”We are not all at it. I am definitely not at it.” This prurient quip did not go down terribly well but at least he was willing to crack a joke. He went on to emphasise that he was there for us all whether Christian or not. He was as good as his word. Everyone felt welcome to go to his rooms for a private chat or in groups. These were extraordinarily popular. People could confide in him and he never betrayed anyone’s trust. Here was one sky pilot who was incredibly down to earth. He said we should address him by his Christian name. I said this was far too informal. I would call him Bill and he must call me Mr———–. He chortled at that and stuck to it for about a term.

He threw himself into the life of the college. He was there on the touchline at every rugger match. When the rugby boys’ needed a senior member for the dinner he volunteered. He seemed very at home with us but it cannot have been easy for a man in his 60s to be rubbing shoulders at a party where some of us were in our teens. He always got it right. He never tried to be youthful. He was usually beaming and it was unfailingly genuine. We could crack crude jokes in his presence without him responding with a po-face or being so enthused that it was unseemly.

He and the head porter has a running gag of pretending to loathe each other. They were forever slagging each other off in a case of public persiflage. Bill was a useful foil for the head porter. One day, shortly after saying said something especially stupid in public I happened to drop by the porters’ lodge. The head porter said, ”You wouldn’t want me to tell the chaplain what you said would you?” Bill chuckled but did not ask how I had disgraced myself. The head porter could use someone as respectable yet affable to shame undergraduates into decent behaviour.

Bill had an inimitable toddling gait. He was forever on tours of inspection around the college, greeting everyone. I never once saw him glum.

In all my years associated with that college I never knew anyone to have a bad word to say about him. However, he was not a total pushover. He revived the college choir. Choral scholarships were awarded. One recipient later wanted to join another college choir but Bill put his foot down. The good of the college came before milksop ‘niceness’. He was not always meek and mild. He could also handle a crisis. There was a certain very beefy boy who liked to drink himself senseless and behave menacingly in the bar – refusing to leave. Rather than have the porters manhandle him out of there Bill would be called to talk some tranquility into him. It worked.

When a senior government figure applied to be head of house in the 1990s Bill was on the interviewing people. ”If you are appointed will you be supporting the chapel?” asked Bill. The man was flabbergasted, ”But my wife and I – we are C of E people, Christmas and Easter. All right, yes.” This man honoured his undertaking and attended chapel every Sunday.

Bill had an early morning service on Sunday. Those who attended matins were entitled to partake of a sumptuous cooked breakfast afterwards which would be put on battels. I could never resist free food. My parents were paying so that was free. In my second year, that Trinity term, I attended Sunday matins no matter how smashed I had been the night before. I would be visibly the worse for wear and sober up over the collect. Bill never criticised me for this. The Sunday evening service was always packed. Bill knew how to put on a good show and often invited preachers from elsewhere. Bill also knew that the supreme virtue in a sermon is brevity. His sermons were delivered pithily, with poise and a leavening of humour. He avoided the moralistic pontification and Biblical scholarship that is a sedative to many congregations. Carols services were marvelous.

I went to his crumpet teas on many occasions. He was happy to greet my chums from other colleges. He was full of bonhomie and avoided talking down to us even though he could have been our grandfather in terms of age. Just occasionally it would only be myself and Bill there. He never broached religious topics but was willing to converse about them if someone chose to raise such matters. He was prepared to discuss ethical questions but he was not judgmental. He was also realistic about how most people behaved. He was magnanimous enough to own up to harbouring misgivings about Christianity. He had an open door policy and people were welcome to drop by. He would eagerly chew the fat with anyone so long as he was not busy. He became like a shrink but without the psychobabble. People could unburden themselves of their anxieties. He seldom offered advice unless he really knew what he was talking about. He understood implicitly that the role of a chaplain was sometimes just to listen. It must have been trying to hear mostly very privileged young people whining about how unlucky they were but Bill never complained.

For years he ran reflection groups. He compiled a series of books entitled ”Visions… ” as in ”Visions of Hope”, ”Visions of Joy” etc… filled with quotations on each topics plundered from every noteworthy writer through the ages. I occasionally dipped into his compilations from  the canon of world literature. These were an incredible compendium of literary allusion. It was as though he had read every noble notion ever written. Lots of small groups would gather in his rooms to read this treasure trove of quotations, contemplate them and discuss them. His parishoners were by definition cerebral but bearing in mind many of them were aged 18-21 he was doing well. People in this age bracket are seldom the most reflective.

He kept up to date with politics but was apolitical. Through much of his chaplaincy the Church of England was pinko. Those being the days of the ”Faith in the City” Report. People of all persuasions felt comfortable with him.

He seemed to see himself more as a social worker. He was totally authentic in caring about the welfare of all members of the college. He was willing to write references for people but would not lie for them. I later saw a  confidential reference he wrote for me that I should not have seen. He was honest enough to damn with faint praise – as I deserved.

He was short, sprightly and possessed of a venerable paunch and an unsurpassed collection of natty jumpers. He never married but said he was glad to have been an Anglican priest as it gave him the option of marrying.

Bill was born in 1939.  He grew up in Yorkshire and still remembered the end of the war being declared. He was from a family of solicitors. He attended Worksop College and stayed on an extra year to be head boy. He then went and did National Service. He at first tried to avoid military service on the basis that he had had an operation as a child and his hearing was not 100%. The doctor sent to evaluate this claim was – the same man who had performed the operation. ”No, no – perfect job been done here. You’re in the army!”. He had a very formative experience in basic training – mixing with soldiers from poor families. He was an officer in the Gurkha Rifles. He became fluent in Gurkhali which he said was a hick form of Nepalese. He was in Singapore for much of this time. He was apolitical and gave no thought to the merits and demerits of imperialism. He attended Gurkha reunions and took a great interest in his old regiment. It struck me that his time in the army was the happiest chapter of his very full life. He did not suffer from the jingoism or puerile machismo that some soldiers have.

Bill went to Balliol and took his degree there. He fondly recalled his time there. It contrasted markedly with Oxford around the Millennium. He spoke of undergraduates having far less money in the old days. They led almost cloistered lives. Boys outnumbered girls 8 to 1. They were legally minors until the age of 21 and had to be in their rooms by a certain hour. There was a passionate rivalry against Trinity. Of a Saturday evening the Balliols boys would lustily sing a song mocking the college over the wall ending in a raucous, ”I am not a Trinity man.”

The intention was for him to become a solicitor and join the family firm. In the end he answered a higher calling. Not in the sense that he was supercilious or moralistic. Being a priest gave him the opportunity to help people full time. As he did not seem to have an ardent faith I suspect that it was this chance to assist people that drew him to the priesthood. He was forever bubbly and attentive to the needs of his parishoners. I count myself as lucky to have been one of them. He quickly got the measure of people. He knew what made them tick and could get through to people. He made an effort to get to knew each member of the college – whether students or staff. Few rebuffed him. Some would have a polite and stilted chat once but it would go no further. For others it was the start of a lifelong friendship. He was a veritable walking archive of college lore and he enormously enriched the soul of the place. He was the Church of England at its caring and convivial best. He retained a vestigial Yorkshire accent that came out in certain phrases such as ”young lads.”

He kept in touch with those who had left. He knew of former dons who had been taken ill. He would visit them frequently when no one else would. He had a lot of grief to handle. Some undergraduates died whilst at the college. Bill had the unenviable task of conducting the funeral and handling the mourning generally. This is not an easy matter when the dead person is 18. He shouldered this duty manfully. He managed it with dignity and without displaying so much pathos that it came across as disingenuous. That was the thing about him – he always pitched it right and was unfailingly sincere.

He retired in 2005. He went to live a few miles from Oxford and was able to visit his former colleagues regularly. A few years ago I saw his unmistakable silhouette tottering down the High Street. I could have crossed the road and greeted him but for no worthwhile reason I chose not to bother. I could have said hello. What I did not know is that I would have been saying farewell. It was the last time I saw him. How I wish I had made that tiny effort!

I miss you Bill. Bill of the chummy smile and the mischievous gag. Bill of the boundless energy and buttered crumpet. I feel a lump in my throat as I write this. He was avuncular and somehow brotherly. I wish there were  paradise for him to go to.