Lovely Lotus

In a hurry this morning as the Olympic torch is due to run past the office at seven and the boss is going to cook for us if we haul our lazy asses in early.

So here, for your delectation, is a small selection of the Lotus cars we saw at the weekend.

Toodle pip!

The Yanquis Are Coming

My calendar informs me that today is July 4th; a date on which some of our ex. Colonials use the word 'party' as a verb; shocking behaviour which I can not condone.

I will, however, wish all my friends in the Colonies a very happy 4th of July

and celebrate with a Carnival of Colonials.

The Yanks were here in force for the Festival of Speed.

From a nation not known for its love of subtlety, Colonial representative Ty Dillon parked his NASCAR Chevy Silverado in front of Goodwood House and proceeded to do a mile long burn-up, shredding his tyres in spectacular fashion.

 An act that started a day-long craze for burning rubber.

There were many other Yanks tearing up the hill climb course, including this spiffy Vette.

I tend toward the retro, as you well know, so I headed for the showground to see what Americana my groats could buy and found this pristine Mustang much to my liking.

Sweet …

How sexy is that?

Don't you just want to lick this car?

Modern Mustangs - even those bearing the name of the late, great Mister Shelby - are somewhat lacking in elegance.

This T-Bird, on the other hand, produced drool by the bucketful.

It's a wide ass but it's a sexy one.

I'll finish up my 4th of July celebration of Yanquidom with one of my all time favourite Americans:

Precursor to the incomparable GT40, the drop dead gorgeous Ford Mk.IV.

Happy 4th of July, Colonial folk!

Hospitality

Yup, it's Goodwood's Festival of Speed (not to be confused with the incomparably splendid Revival Meeting where we all get dressed up - that's in September).

Hidden behind that Morgan is the Lotus building, which is the first place we're headed for after a long drive as …

… being champion liggers and blaggers we intend to bluff our way into the VIP lounge and avail ourselves of their board of fare.

Freebies, peeps!

Yummy brownies and pornographic muffins filled with rich, chocolatey goo.

Damned fine coffee and (yay) jelly beans.

What's not to love?

 Later in the day we'd head back here to watch folk getting soaked by the rain.

Ah, the pleasures of pretending to be VIPs.

And here are some very important persons.

Well Phil and Andy at least.

Breakfast turned into a board meeting between Lotus and Mc.Laren (the guy on the right).

I participated by eating the jelly beans.

I want these.

It was breezy on the verandah so we had the place to ourselves.

More coffee and a splendid view.

Gooey.

The view from the verandah.

I'll post photos of actual cars later.

WTF Monday

Not "what the feck Monday" this week, but WHERE the feck?
Where were we this weekend, having a splendid time and getting horrendously sunburned despite the almost constant rain?

What Lies Beneath

Ah, the vicissitudes of fickle fashion.

Peel off the smooth mediæval stone face of the columns in Norwich Cathedral …

… and reveal the glory of the original Norman masonry.

I know which I prefer. A pox on Puritanical conformity!

Throw off your dull robes and shine, in all your peculiar splendour.

Get Real

I had a long, hot and ickily-stickily humid meeting with a lot of sweaty people this morning, so to cool off I took an early lunch and hied my merry way to my favourite coffee shop to sit under the air conditioner for a bit.
All was well; sitting re-reading the arse end of Ulysses left over from Bloomsday, sipping espresso and chilled water and looking achingly at a table of pretty girls who it appears had come out today with naught but a handkerchief to share between them as clothes.

Then two guys in their twenties in sweaty cheap suits plonked themselves down between me and the girls and started yapping loudly in that annoying way that cuts through your thoughts like a dog barking.

"So what are your goals?" yelled one, slapping on to the table a school exercise book and a biro (classy).
"Well, I'm aiming to be banking 250K a year in two years time and living in one of those big Victorian houses down by the river."
"What's your business plan?"
"I'm thinking of selling medical equipment; you know: scanners and stuff. How about you?"
"Well I'm going to own my own business, probably in marketing and my goal is to collect high-end sports cars."
Honestly: this was as close to verbatim as I can recall but it was definitely the gist of what they were saying.

I soon discovered that gaping like Cletus the slack-jawed yokel and occasionally snorting with derision wasn't going to shut them up so I reluctantly put down my book and leaned across.
"I can put you in touch with a couple of companies supplying specialist medical equipment if you'd like."
They looked at me like a pair of rabbits trapped in headlights. They were scared shitless. The "scanners and stuff" guy actually gibbered, which is something you don't see every day.
I bit back a smirk and carried on. It only took a minute to discover that they were "management graduates" who knew shit about nothing - let alone medical equipment, were "currently unemployed" (and in my view unemployable) and were very likely to be serving me coffee in a few months time should they be smart enough to shut their mouths during a job interview.

Just what is it in today's educational system that gives imbeciles like that the kind of unachievable expectations they were drooling over? I am totally at a loss to understand it.
I asked the sports car collector what he drove and he "doesn't have a car yet." I wonder how he'll find the money for his fleet of Ferraris and Porsches on £65 a week Jobseekers' Allowance.

The scary thing is that I know a lot of people like these two who have actually found jobs in management and are - the thought is too horrible for words - in charge of real working people's lives.

These people are truly worthless parasites. Who's with me on starting a campaign to have every person in "management training" taken outside and summarily de-bagged, pointed to and laughed at for their own good?

Just a thought …

Anyhoo … Back to REAL work. Some of us have bills to pay and realistic expectations (well, mostly realistic … I still sometimes fantasise about getting a girlfriend, but at least I don't yell across coffee shops that "my goal" is to be sleeping with Buffy the Vampire Slayer within eighteen months … Sheesh).
Get real guys.

- Written on my Macbook Pro in the coffee shop just now while my two companions were jealously asking how much one of those costs.

Tom Browne Ponders The Price Of Posterity

So anyhoo: I was meandering past Sir Thomas Browne (the Headache Man) yesterday lunchtime when I spotted a pigeon nestled in his outstretched hand.
As I reached for my camera, however, the idiot bird flew off, but I managed to just catch the thing as it launched.

Click on the photo and blow it up and you'll probably be as startled as I was to discover that pigeons take off backwards!
This bird is definitely taking off and not landing. It's rather helicopter-like, with a bit of vertical take off and reversing before sticking its wings in forward gear.
So what was going to be a photo of Sir Tom pondering a handful of pigeon droppings and the ignominy of becoming an avian toilet, instead demonstrated to me that I can indeed learn something new every day (yesterday I also learned about beet and chocolate muffins - yay).

Henri's Back

You gotta love that last "merde" during the fade-out.

What To Do With Those Old Christmas Sweaters

WTF Monday - Reject Ticket

Don't forget that all-important reject ticket,

otherwise you're gonna to get your reject explosive product shoved right back at ya.