Eric Alexander Moore: A Tribute

Today my dear sweet Grandpa was promoted to glory.

I received the news at the very end of our worship service at Sutton Salvation Army, which I think was quite fitting because, if I couldn't be there with the rest of the family, I know that my Grandpa would've been proud to know I was at the Army.

Eric Alexander Moore was a wonderful man of God, fair and loving father and grandfather, and an inspiration and encouragement to everyone he met. He impressed all with his genuine care and concern, infectious wit, and deep and lasting love of the Lord.

Whilst I am desperately upset and deeply distressed that I could not be there for Grandpa's final moments, I am grateful for the silver lining at this time - which is that the last time I saw Grandpa, he was doing what he did best - praying. My final earthly moments with him were in January at Enchilada's - the whole family had gathered for our 'final supper' - never was a truer word spoken - and at the end, as I was about to leave for the airport, Grandpa Moore stood up and prayed one of the most beautiful prayers I have heard him pray, asking for God to keep me safe and in His arms. Even now the thought of it moves me to tears.

The funeral was held on Thursday 2nd October, and although I couldn't be there, Dad managed to set up a bit of a web cam thing for me so that I could see it via skype (although we couldn't make the sound work, so I had to phone his mobile for that). Although the picture wasn't very clear, and the sound often distorted, it made me feel a part of the celebration of Grandpa's life, which is very important to me.

I find it desperately sad that I will never again hear that harmonica on my birthday, or witness one of "Ol' Eck's" skits again ('Light Fingered Freddy' was my favourite), or hear that immortal question - "Onky doory or doory onky?" - but I will say this, Grandpa:

"Well done, good and faithful servant"

"Though he has left this place, he still speaks..." Hebrews 11:4

My Blog Is Blocked!

You wouldn't read about it! My blog has been blocked by netsweeper!

You see, because the school's network is somewhat ordinary (after all, they are all only PC's), I regularly bring my mac in to school. It's handy to have 2 computers on at once, 1 to check emails and do internet type stuff, all work related, of course, and the other to type up instrumental waiting lists and timetables and easiteach lesson flipcharts and the like.

Anyway, it was break time, and one of the peri's was interested in my summer travels, so I went to pull up my blog to show some pics. Suddenly, the following message appeared:

What?! Hate speech? Gambling? I mean, I can allow 'Entertainment' - I would hope that maybe someone might find my ramblings a little entertaining, but the other stuff? Where in my blog do you find hate speech?

And then, I logged on again a few days later - forgetting I've been blocked - and saw this one:

Substance abuse? You've got to be kidding me, right?

Mind you, the school's net nanny programme is pretty random in its blocking of things. Its quite frustrating sometimes. Like, I'm a music teacher, so of course sometimes I need to download lyrics for songs for the kids and so on - and pretty much well all websites with the word 'lyrics' in it somewhere are blocked. It's crazy. And you can forget about youtube - even though there is a wealth of good stuff on there, useful for teaching. It's a joke.

And now kmuki.com, too, has fallen foul of netsweeper... what a sad, sad day this is...

Is This Really Stealing?

Is this stealing?  

One of the neighbours around here has an unsecured wifi network.  I discovered it quite by accident the other day when I was in the living room with Jean watching "Anne of Green Gables".  I was actually using my own silly wifi, provided by 3, the most rubbish internet providers on the planet - and it kept dropping out! So finally, out of sheer frustration and total annoyance, I unplugged the stupid thing (its one of those dumb dongle things, totally useless) and shut down the laptop.  But a little later, during a Gilbert-free moment, my attention was wandering and I decided to imdb Jonathan Crombie (aka Gilbert Blythe) to see what else he's been in, how old he is, is he married (hehehe) and all those important things.... and I suddenly realised that I was connected to the net, but the dongle WASN'T PLUGGED IN!!!!  Magic!  And the best bit of all - it wasn't dropping out!

So since then, if I have some important (i.e. more Gilbert-spotting) internetting to do, I just pop downstairs to the living room, turn on the laptop and voila!  Best connection ever!

So is this wrong?  I mean, I pay that stupid 3 a whopping £15 a month for crappy broadband internet which constantly drops out, has a 3GB limit per month, and a minimum 12 month contract (expiring in April - so I'll be paying £60 to them for nothing when I go home).  Their service is so bad that if I have photos to upload to my blog, or if I have attachments I have to send with my emails, I have to do it at school (in fact I have to have my blogger log-in page as my home page or else it just won't load up when I use the 3 internet at home) - how bad is that?!  And as for automatic software updates, well!  Just won't happen with the stupid dongle setup.

So if my neighbour is stupid enough to have an unprotected wifi network, is it then wrong for me, a mostly law-abiding, broadband-paying customer, to take advantage of it?  Especially as I'm not getting the service I pay for...? I mean, it's not like I'm choking up his bandwidth, logged on all evening, watching lots of youtube videos, downloading huge files... oh hang on, I am....!  Oops...

How Nerdy Are You?

Erik made me do this quiz...

I don't really know if I like being nerdier than 70% of all people! Especially as for the really nerdy questions, I just guessed the answer!

Anyway, how nerdy are you?

The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas

I have only once ever seen a film that left me completely speechless and numb at the end. Until now.

This film is one of the most shocking, most horrific, most moving that I have ever seen. Since having seen it, I haven't been able to get the images out of my mind, or the voices and music out of my head (no, I'm not going nuts).

I remember a few years back when Titanic came out, my Grandfather said, "Titanic? Why would you want to see that - everyone knows how it ends!" But yet when you saw it, even though you knew the ending, it still came as a bit of a shock, or at least, as a bit of a tear jerker. And the same could be said of this film - you know how it ends - and yet, unless you've read the book (I'm gathering, as I haven't read the book) - you don't REALLY know how it ends. The story completely draws you in, and along with it - until there's no escape and there is the dreadful realisation dawning on you of what exactly is going to happen, and you don't want it to, but you just can't do anything about it - and it's a complete shock. So much of a shock, I actually felt physically ill afterwards - and was certainly unable to speak or move during the credits as my mind processed all that I had witnessed.

I hope the movie wins an Oscar. I really do. But only because the story telling is so magnificent, the little boys superb, and the music is truly haunting. I warn you though: this is most definitely not a film for the faint hearted - bring plenty of tissues....

Katie and Laura Jump!

The Salvation Army in the UK holds an annual appeal, well, annually.  For more info on that, click here.

The thing is, bless them, they go about it in such a daft way, that no one really knows the appeal is actually on - so I don't know how it is a viable source of fund raising for them.  I mean, in Australia, the Red Shield appeal is an annual event, held at roughly the same time each year.  There's advertising online, on the radio, on billboards, TV, posters etc, and if you were to ask the average person in the street, they'd know about it.  The appeal takes place on one day, a Sunday, when you're likely to have people at home, and each church organises a team of collectors - not just collectors from within the church, but school groups, youth clubs and so on.  Everyone gets involved - even McDonalds, who give free burger vouchers to those involved in collecting.  The appeal raises a lot of money and everyone knows about it.

Now to the UK.  I have been a regular church attender at the Salvation Army here for many years, and I still can't tell you when the annual appeal should be.  I only hear about it when the officer mentions it from the pulpit.  I never see any advertising for it on TV, or the radio, or posters, or anything.  It takes place over 2 weeks, and the idea is that members of the church sign up voluntarily to help the officer go collect at people's houses.  You're supposed to drop off the envelopes one day, and collect them (preferably filled with money) on another day.  Oh, and all this takes place in the evening, after work - when its dark, cold, and most people are unlikely to answer their door.  And can I also point out - not once have I ever had an envelope delivered to my address - so I have to assume that a large portion of the population just don't get collected.  Doesn't seem very effective to me.

Anyway, my mates Katie and Laura don't seem to think this is very effective either - or at least, don't want to have to give up their evenings to go out collecting in the dark and cold.  So this year, they decided that they would rather... jump out of a plane!

So they asked a load of us to sponsor them (and get others to do so) and then last Wednesday, they did it!  They jumped - and lived to tell the tale!  For evidence of this event, click here.

Now why am I posting about this - I mean, its not like I jumped or anything.  No, I'm doing this as a way of maybe raising extra funds for them by giving it a little advertisement.  So, if you would like to support the work of the Salvation Army, leave me a comment with your email address (I moderate all comments before publishing them, so I won't publish your email address, you don't have to worry about that) and I can tell you how you too can support the Salvation Army through sponsoring Katie and Laura.

In the meantime, girls, well done - you are fab!

WARNING: Always Read The Fine Print!

Aaaggh! I hate when I do things that are stupid!

Granted, I do stupid things quite a lot, but I just had to get on and post about this latest one, I am sooo frustrated! Plus, I need to warn others out there about this dirty, rotten scammer!!!!!

I'm in the process of getting ready to go home. It's a scary process, very emotional, and extremely stressful, particularly after 11 years or so, which is why I'm trying to do it in dribs and drabs. I set myself a few, small(ish), manageable tasks in the hope that when December comes, and we're in the thick of everything at school (especially our annual Music camp), life won't be sooo stressful. This I am hoping I learned from last year, when I had to move house and pack up my life at the same time as carry on working and get ready to go home - and as a result I got sick and couldn't do any of it. So I am determined not to have history repeat itself, which is why, today being Saturday, I set myself a few tasks: continue to clear out all the junk in my room that I will not be taking home (today: clear out my desk and right-hand side cupboard), apply for some more jobs, and sort out my mobile phone contract.

My mobile provider, 3, are rip off merchants, and I am sick of them. My contract has now finished, so I thought it would be best to go over to a pay as you go sim for the remaining few months, and then when I get home I can either sign up for a new contract or get an Aussie pay as you go sim. Simple? No, not really...

You see, 3's 'pay as you go' deal is crap, and I found out that O2 are giving away free sim cards, so I ordered some - makes sense, we can take them to Bowles (our music camp). The maximum you could get was 4, so I got that. Good.

But my problem is that my phone is locked to the 3 network. So I went online today, being a bit 'net' savvy and all (or so I thought), and typed in the necessary information into google - which produced this result: a website called 'unlock search'.

For £2.99 I could unlock my phone! Or so I thought... because you see, I didn't read the fine print. I didn't read it all properly. And I got burned.... because whilst I typed in diligently all the details, thinking I would instantly receive my unlock code, paid my money by paypal.... etc etc... I didn't know that I was being scammed. First of all, the £2.99 didn't include tax - so it really cost me £3.51. Second of all, and this is the most important point - I wasn't paying for an unlock 'code', as I thought - but an unlock 'guide' - an email telling me what I need to do to unlock my phone!!!! Rip off!!!!

So I'm going to get my own back on these scum-sucking (in the words of John Laws) bottom feeders! You ready?

WWW.UNLOCKSEARCH.COM ARE RIP OFF MERCHANTS - DON'T USE THEM!!!! WWW.UNLOCKSEARCH.COM ARE RIP OFF MERCHANTS - DON'T USE THEM!!!! WWW.UNLOCKSEARCH.COM ARE RIP OFF MERCHANTS - DON'T USE THEM!!!! WWW.UNLOCKSEARCH.COM ARE RIP OFF MERCHANTS - DON'T USE THEM!!!! WWW.UNLOCKSEARCH.COM ARE RIP OFF MERCHANTS - DON'T USE THEM!!!!

I would print out here what they sent me, but the blighters are such crafty ripper-offers that they copyrighted their pathetic 'unlock search report'! But if you want to know, the gist of it was:

1. Phone up your provider and ask for an unlock code. You'll have to pay for it. (der!)

2. Go to an independant dealer or market stall. You'l have to pay for it and you might lose your data. (double der!)

3. Use an online retailer's code. (that's what I thought I was doing, you muppet!)

4. Unlock your phone with an unlock download.

5. Buy an unlock clip and do it yourself.

So there you have it - lear from my mistakes, my young padawan, I am Yoda, I know everything - ALWAYS READ THE (*&$!) FINE PRINT!!!!

Tripping the Light Fantastic at Thames Festival '08

The second Saturday and Sunday in September can only mean one thing in London:  The Mayor's Thames Festival.

This event has been running now I think for some 10 years or so - maybe more, I don't really know - but we've been involved with it on and off at CEBS since I think 2000.  We did 3 years or so on our own, as a cross-curricular project, but stopped after the third year, not because of the girls, but rather because of their fan club.  You see, we were supposed to be performing in carnival, not trying to stop one happen, with our girl's friends trying to muscle in on the action (read: boyfriends trying to get up close and nasty 'dancing' with their girlfriends who were dressed in skimpy, colourful costumes) - and with girls who were too busy dancing as opposed to actually playing their instruments.  But in that last year we'd had a company, Kinetika, take over the costume making - and as the guy they'd brought in to the do the music was rubbish, my colleague Mat had to take over.  Kinetika were so impressed they took him on as musical director, and ever since then, they've run a Summer school for 2 weeks over the summer preparing for not only the Thames Festival but now other carnivals up and down the country.  It's good for CEBS, as our girls spend a couple of weeks on their holidays practising their instruments, and good for Kinetika as they get to use our premises sometimes.  And good for me and Erik, as we get invited to perform in the procession with them - without having to practise or having to be responsible for our kids.  Win-win situation for everyone.

Anyway, this year is I think the 1st year in a 5 year or so project with Kinetika (although I think they used the theme before, well, at least it's slogan, but have now formulated it properly).  The theme of the project is "Imagination: Our Nation", and this year was 'Germination: Sowing the Seeds for the Future'.  Next year is Fascination, then Pollination, Illumination and finally in 2012, Imagination.  It all looks really good.

So this year Mat arranged music based on English folk music coupled with Caribbean favourites such as "Three Little Birds", "The Israelites" and "My Boy Lollipop", harking back to the Afro-Caribbean heritage of London, and Lambeth in particular.  The music was really cleverly arranged, with funky beats by the drummers and cool riffs by the tubas and bari sax.

Anyway, Erik and I got to go along, even though we didn't really know the music, and take part in the procession yet again.  I've lost count now how many times I've done that procession, but each year it just gets bigger and bigger - with over 2000 performers taking part.  It's now spread out over 2 days, with a multitude of events along the river - our school Jazz band (plus yours truly) played at Hibernia Wharf on Saturday in a mini-Jazz festival - which was such an honour.  The kids played really well and I was very proud.

But the night procession is really what the Thames Festival is all about.  The atmosphere is just electric, right from the start, when we all leave the RFH and cross the bridge over to Embankment - playing all the way - and then wandering past all the bands, dancers and puppeteers who have already taken their place in the procession and are playing through a few numbers whilst waiting - its soooo loud, but soooo exciting!  Finally we get into our position and start running through our grooves too...  Then we get a visit from the Mayor (this time Boris Johnson, who stopped off for a few pics with the kids too), the sun sets, and the party kicks off!  The procession takes easily 2 hours or more, as we walk up the Embankment, up to Blackfriars bridge, across the river and back to the RFH via 'Upper Ground'.  There's a few spots en route where Mat likes to stop us, namely whenever we go under any bridge, because then, with 100 odd drummers playing, plus the brass - the decibel levels are through the roof, and he just loves to hear it all mesh together with the acoustics of the bridge.

And when we finally finish the procession, there's a huge display of fireworks in front of the RFH, just capping the whole thing off...

... A fab time, but boy am I knackered now...

Anyway, here's some pics - apologies for the poor quality, but when you're processing for 3 hours or so with a tenor saxophone, you can only bring what you can carry on you - so there was no point in bringing a fancy camera when I have my phone with me anyway...

Ruby's Visit to Dr Ken's...

As you will no doubt remember from a previous post, Ruby met some very bad customers earlier this year who decided to give her a nice hair do.  Ever since that time, I have been searching for the solution to rectify this situation, but to no avail.  I've had quotes to have her 'restyled' (way too expensive), I've tried to get her some mascara (aka "touch up paint") - but it was the wrong colour, and I've even tried a bit of eyeliner (read: wax crayon) but I still couldn't find anything that remotely matched!  Ken had a look under the bonnet at the colour code, but when he typed it into the search engine on the internet, her colour came up as 'gold'.  Now, have a look at the picture on the left.  Does that look like gold to you? I didn't think so!

So the next thing to try was suggested to me by the bloke at Kwikfit Hackbridge.  He recommended going on yell.com to the 'find a part' section, type in what I needed, and wait for people to contact me.  So I did.  He told me that the industry name for this colour is 'cranberry', so I hopped on and advertised for a cranberry coloured 1995 Ford Escort bonnet.  I got one response from a bloke somewhere 'up north', who said he had one, which he could get delivered to me in London for a total of £55 the whole lot.  I double checked with him, "Is it cranberry coloured".  "It's burgundy," he said, "that's the industry name for the colour".  I pointed out that the burgundy coloured touch up paint was too red, but he positively assured me this is what I was looking for.  I asked him if it was for a 95 Ford Escort - and he said it was.  I was however still a little skeptical, so I asked for a photo but for one reason or the other he couldn't provide one.

I wish I'd insisted on it.  I got the bonnet delivered to Ken's because I knew I would be away on the USA trip when it arrived, and plus, Ken would be installing it, so it made sense to have it delivered there - plus how was I going to get it from Jean's to Ken's - I mean, the bonnet would be the same width as my car, so it's not like its going to fit in the boot or anything, right?

This then is the background to Ruby's trip to Dr Ken's on Sunday..

We went for lunch first at our favourite place, the Toby Carvery at Epsom, and then it was back to Ken's to try and get the bonnet done before it rained.  I drove Ruby around the back, Ken pulled out the bonnet, and we proceeded to take it out of its black plastic bubble wrap packaging.  Oh it was so exciting, after so many months Ruby was going to look normal again, I could hardly wait.  And then we saw it.

Firstly, the colour was wrong - well, actually, no, the colour was right - for what he'd said.  Burgundy.  Nothing like 'cranberry', and certainly nothing like Ruby.  Crap.  

Secondly, there were 2 dirty great big (and deep) scratches on the bonnet.  Now I ask you, how can someone sell a replacement bonnet that clearly should be on the scrap heap?  The guy obviously was dreaming - but then he's had the last laugh, he's fobbed it off on me.

But the final straw, the piece de resistance - its not even the right shape!  It is soooo clearly not the bonnet of a 95 Ford Escort!

And because it was more than a month ago, I don't really have a leg to stand on with the bloke I bought it from, although I'm going to try my best - on the grounds it was 'not fit for purpose' - not a 95 Escort, and in poor condition.  But I doubt I'll have much luck!

In the meantime, I took advantage of the opportunity to have a few other things seen to by Dr Ken... including puttying up the muffler (which actually is a brand new muffler, so I don't know why it has a huge hole in it), using the dent pull to pull out a few dents from the last time Ruby faced someone off trying to pass them on the narrow London roads (but that wasn't my fault, it was the other person's!) and have a few light scratches 't-cutted' off... thanks Dr Ken!

Which Moore Are You?

The Salvation Army is really a small world.  A very, very small world.

Last Sunday I was reminded of that when I went to the meeting.  I'd been phoned up by Ira early to ask if I would mind playing piano that morning as she was not able to be there, so even though I'd intended maybe having a little sleep in for a change and skip the meeting, I said I would do it anyway.   Unfortunately though, after that conversation, which took place when I was half asleep (come on, the day before was the France trip, I was tired!), I promptly went back to sleep and was rudely awakened at 9.45 by my alarm clock.  Panic stations, there's only 45 minutes til the meeting - and I've got to get there early and learn all the songs!  Quick shower, chuck on some clothes, run out the door - and I made it by 10.20.  Phew, I thought, as I ran in the door (ignoring the welcome ladies because hey, I'm in a rush!) - I'll just have 10 minutes or so to have a quick run through of the music, and it'll be right. 

But then I was accosted by Graeme, accompanied by 3 Salvation Army officers.  Oh cripes, what's going on here?  "Kylie!" he calls out from the comfy chairs in the foyer, "Come over here a sec!"  Hmmm.  Over I go - what can he want?

"These officers are from Australia" he said.  Ok, I thought, care factor?  But better do the polite thing.  "Hi, how are you?" I responded.  And on it went from there.  So Graeme introduced me to the first bloke, something-or-other Maxwell, and in the course of the introduction he used my full name.  Surprising, because to be honest, not many people at Sutton actually know my last name.  It's never been an issue.

Anyway, I remember a few years ago meeting Earle Maxwell, the General's chief of staff or something, so I wondered if this one was related.  Also I remembered that there was a Maxwell once at Albion corps, where Nanny and Grandpa go.  So I asked him if he was that Maxwell.  "Oh no", he said, "that's my brother".  

Then the other officers piped up.  "Oh we used to be at Albion, who is your Nan?"  So I told them.  Yep, they remembered Nanny and Pop - these guys were the Maclarens, and they were at Albion for quite a while, if I recall rightly.  So we had a little chat, which was quite pleasant, and then as it was wrapping up (and I was thinking, I better get to the piano real quick),  the Maxwell fella asked that one question that I only ever get asked in Army circles - "So, which Moore are you?"  Hm...big sigh...

"Barry", I said.  "Oh, Barry!" came the response, followed by questions about whether Dad still plays the organ, statements to all and sundry as to how good he is on the organ, what wonderful music he writes, when they last heard him play... - and bear in mind, I'm about to go and play piano for the service, having not played for 2 months, and not knowing the songs - and they're going on about how fab Dad is as a musician...  Talk about pressure, eh?  Just what you need 5 minutes before the meeting starts!

Reminded me of the time I performed at a Youth Demonstration at Congress.  Some burke gets up and introduces me like this - "And now Barry Moore's daughter will play Mozart Sonata in C"... thanks very much!  Let's just pile on a little bit 'moore' pressure, eh?  Like I wasn't nervous enough!

Suffice to say on both occasions, I'm sorry to report, I didn't exactly live up to family name... not surprising, really...

Eight Go To Boulogne

So on Saturday 6 September a few of us from the Army decided it was time again for a much needed, well-earned shopping trip to Calais.  We had planned to meet up at the hall at 7.30 in the morning (too early, if you ask me) and then head off to the Eurotunnel, for our train booked at 9.20 or something.  The only problem was, being a relatively big group - there were eight of us:  Jan, Ira, Frankie, Jean, Laura, Michelle, Mandy and myself - not all of us arrived on time.  I started to panic a little - I mean, it takes at least 70 minutes to get to Folkestone, and you have to be there 30 minutes before the train... so we're not cutting it a bit fine.  Finally around 8.15 Ira and Michelle arrived, and we were off!

We had planned to take 2 cars - mine, and Jan's.  I was supposed to be leading on the motorway but Jan took off out of the car park like a bat out of hell and I had to put the foot down because I didn't want to miss her!  Laura had said she thought Jan was a bit of a lead foot - so I was afraid she'd get too far ahead - but once we were on the motorway, I started to get somewhat alarmed because we still hadn't seen her.  How far ahead could she be?

Laura gave her a quick call on the mobile - and it turns out she was miles behind.  Miles behind - at least 20 odd!  And the time is getting away... would we miss our train?

Yep.  We did.  But luckily we made it onto the next one...

Once we arrived in Calais we'd decided to go for lunch, this time in Boulogne, as opposed to Wissant, where we'd gone last time.  It was real nice too, really quaint - we spent an enjoyable hour or so wandering around the cute little cobbled streets.  Jan bought the most gorgeous beret, it really suited her.

After our lovely little lunch, we made our way back to Cite Europe, where it was a quick dash to Sephora (as usual) to top up with some bath stuff - and try very hard not to buy the wondrous anti-wrinkle plumper upperer thingy that the most helpful sales lady tried to sell me.  Seriously, it was very good, very effective - but there's no way I'm going to pay 50 odd quid for that tiny little bottle!

Jean headed off with Jan for a bit of shopping, and the rest of us sort of split up.  I ended up in the hypermarket Carrefour for some cheese - and also to buy the bottles of wine I usually give the peri's as gifts - only this time it wasn't really any cheaper than in London!  Oh well, at least I have their gifts in hand now...

All too soon the time had gone and it was time to make our way back to England.  It was a lovely day, and I hope we go again soon...

Meanwhile here's how we entertained ourselves on the way back, apologies for our bad singing....

Back In London

Hi all

This is going to be another one of those posts which I put up as more like a message board notice.   Please don't leave a comment, I will be taking it down at some point and then your comment will be sucked into the internet deleted messages vortex...

I'm back in London now.  At the moment, on the blog, I'm still only in Tombstone, which, to put it in perspective, was like the 7th day of our 30 day trip.  So there's a lot still to say...

But now more stuff is happening that I have to comment on too, and it'll be out of date by the time I get around to it... so I'm moving on from here but the USA stuff will get put on as and when I can.  This means it will appear previous to this comment, so you might need to check back if you're interested.  Then again I doubt if anyone actually reads this, so... who really cares anyway?