How do they find me?

I’ve mentioned before that the SiteMeter tracks the referring webpage for visitors to The Chookery. Many of these arise as a result of someone entering a search term into a search engine and it can be flattering to see how high up the list of results the old blog climbs. Today’s interesting result was 5th in Google for “Kingdom- purple starfish”, which is about as disconnected with chooks and geese that it is possible to get.
Perhaps I should offer a prize for the most obscure search term to return this site as the top hit … perhaps that’s setting myself up for some very strange interpretations of my ramblings …
Mind you, 16th for “bloody heads” is getting pretty obscure.

How do they find me?

I’ve mentioned before that the SiteMeter tracks the referring webpage for visitors to The Chookery. Many of these arise as a result of someone entering a search term into a search engine and it can be flattering to see how high up the list of results the old blog climbs. Today’s interesting result was 5th in Google for “Kingdom- purple starfish”, which is about as disconnected with chooks and geese that it is possible to get.
Perhaps I should offer a prize for the most obscure search term to return this site as the top hit … perhaps that’s setting myself up for some very strange interpretations of my ramblings …
Mind you, 16th for “bloody heads” is getting pretty obscure.

Not-so-auld-reekie

I promised to note a few observations on the first couple of days of the smoking ban in Scotland and had the perfect opportunity with a stop-over in Edinburgh on Monday night to be up in time for a meeting there this morning: saves all the grief of trying to get through two cities’ rush hours and travel 140 miles all before breakfast.
I arrived in Auld Reekie too late for a meal at the hotel where I had been billeted and was referred to a local Indian restaurant for something to eat. Suited me; it’s a rare chance these days to get a meal in an Indian restaurant so off I toddled. Turned out to be a very nice small place near the Haymarket, called the Verandah – worth looking out if you’re in that area. Just one other couple in when I arrived. Enjoyed my food and then the owner came over and started chatting. We talked for ages, about the smoking ban (a good thing), over-zealous food inspectors (a bad thing), being a kid in the current decadent age (a tricky thing) and being a parent of teenagers (a worrying thing). This chap turned out to be very interesting to talk to. He welcomed the smoking ban and had already made his restaurant non-smoking some time ago.
I’d stuck my nose into a few pubs as well and most landlords were pretty philosophical about the whole business. Some were concerned that business would wane and others were concerned about how people would cope being able to smell each other – this is becoming a serious topic of concern and one pub I passed had put tea-lights (small candles) on the tables to counter the odour of their customers! Incidentally, one person I spoke to who had been to Oireland recounted that the well-known gastric consequences of Guinness were now unmasked in the bars and that there was something to be said for the reek of Major cigarette smoke after all.
It’s interesting to note that, with all the concentration on pubs and clubs over the preceding weeks and months, that nearly every other premises to which the ban applies has yet to get its signs sorted out – Boots the chemist, MacDonalds the processed meat people and a few bus shelters were the exception to the rule – mind you, one of the bus shelters in central Edinburgh had already had the no-smoking sign prised off and it lay face-down in the street-litter, so some folk are expressing a rebellious spirit in amongst all of this.
The general consensus seems to be that things will settle down and it’s notable that nearly every pub you pass of an evening has a couple of smokers lurking out on the street partaking of their habit.

Not-so-auld-reekie

I promised to note a few observations on the first couple of days of the smoking ban in Scotland and had the perfect opportunity with a stop-over in Edinburgh on Monday night to be up in time for a meeting there this morning: saves all the grief of trying to get through two cities’ rush hours and travel 140 miles all before breakfast.
I arrived in Auld Reekie too late for a meal at the hotel where I had been billeted and was referred to a local Indian restaurant for something to eat. Suited me; it’s a rare chance these days to get a meal in an Indian restaurant so off I toddled. Turned out to be a very nice small place near the Haymarket, called the Verandah – worth looking out if you’re in that area. Just one other couple in when I arrived. Enjoyed my food and then the owner came over and started chatting. We talked for ages, about the smoking ban (a good thing), over-zealous food inspectors (a bad thing), being a kid in the current decadent age (a tricky thing) and being a parent of teenagers (a worrying thing). This chap turned out to be very interesting to talk to. He welcomed the smoking ban and had already made his restaurant non-smoking some time ago.
I’d stuck my nose into a few pubs as well and most landlords were pretty philosophical about the whole business. Some were concerned that business would wane and others were concerned about how people would cope being able to smell each other – this is becoming a serious topic of concern and one pub I passed had put tea-lights (small candles) on the tables to counter the odour of their customers! Incidentally, one person I spoke to who had been to Oireland recounted that the well-known gastric consequences of Guinness were now unmasked in the bars and that there was something to be said for the reek of Major cigarette smoke after all.
It’s interesting to note that, with all the concentration on pubs and clubs over the preceding weeks and months, that nearly every other premises to which the ban applies has yet to get its signs sorted out – Boots the chemist, MacDonalds the processed meat people and a few bus shelters were the exception to the rule – mind you, one of the bus shelters in central Edinburgh had already had the no-smoking sign prised off and it lay face-down in the street-litter, so some folk are expressing a rebellious spirit in amongst all of this.
The general consensus seems to be that things will settle down and it’s notable that nearly every pub you pass of an evening has a couple of smokers lurking out on the street partaking of their habit.

The Shrine of The Blind-Winger Jones: The Smoking Ban & Puffer Pinkney The Human Chimney

The Shrine of The Blind-Winger Jones: The Smoking Ban & Puffer Pinkney The Human Chimney
For an alternative take on the smoking ban, I can do no more than offer you the Blind-Winger Jones …

The Shrine of The Blind-Winger Jones: The Smoking Ban & Puffer Pinkney The Human Chimney

The Shrine of The Blind-Winger Jones: The Smoking Ban & Puffer Pinkney The Human Chimney
For an alternative take on the smoking ban, I can do no more than offer you the Blind-Winger Jones …

ChookVote – the Ultimate Cultural Question

I know my personal style guide avoids the use of initial capitals in post titles apart from where required for proper nouns, but this is a big question. I’ve posed this one before, but here is the previous post in all its faded glory to explain the reason for the latest ChookVote poll:
I was listening to the biography of Jimmi Hendrix being read on Radio 4 this morning and it reminded me of the Ultimate Cultural Question which has been fermenting in my mind for the last few days. You know the sort of thing, supposed to enable you to define your position in modern culture by a simple forced choice. The Ultimate Cultural Question, as proposed by Pat the Chooks is this: Hey Joe or Hey Jude?
Okay, which is my preference and why? Simple; Hey Joe every time. I’ve always been a rocker at heart and once even had the hair to enable me to do some proper head-banging at the student union disco. Hey Joe is for the rocker in me. Funnily enough, much though I love the Beatles’ oeuvre, I’ve never liked Hey Jude; it’s soppy, sentimental, musical mush and a turgid dirge. I simply cannot understand why it has been adopted as some sort of universal emotional anthem, unless, of course, it is truly representative of the spiritual and intellectual void that characterises the modern British society. Hence, no doubt, why it so perfectly encapsulated the empathy-at-a-comfortable-distance that was the gruesome Live8 fiasco. “Give us your gullibility!”
Go on, have your say and vote in the sidebar – I’m going to.>>>

ChookVote results announced

The last ChookVote poll has been running for far too long, and people really aren’t that keen on runny eggs at the best of time. After all, we did ask how voters liked their eggs and the results are as follows:

Surprisingly, the poll was tied between “scrambled” (mmm, my favourite!) and “other”.
Here are the comments that visitors left with their votes:

• Poached
• Me? I prefer slow-cooked, very soft, scrambled eggs; more like a set hollandaise than that lumpy yellow-and-white stuff you get elsewhere or, even worse, the slabs of stuff you get in hotels which weep water all over your plate – yuk!
• Shell on…down in one!!
• poached eggs get my vote
• i dont like eggs!!!
• You’ve got too much time on your hands, young Sir!
• Fried mind – not that rubbish “griddled” stuff. Sunny side up please, and done in about 5mm of bacon fat. Lovely…
• Poached eggs on toast – Mmmm!

ChookVote – the Ultimate Cultural Question

I know my personal style guide avoids the use of initial capitals in post titles apart from where required for proper nouns, but this is a big question. I’ve posed this one before, but here is the previous post in all its faded glory to explain the reason for the latest ChookVote poll:
I was listening to the biography of Jimmi Hendrix being read on Radio 4 this morning and it reminded me of the Ultimate Cultural Question which has been fermenting in my mind for the last few days. You know the sort of thing, supposed to enable you to define your position in modern culture by a simple forced choice. The Ultimate Cultural Question, as proposed by Pat the Chooks is this: Hey Joe or Hey Jude?
Okay, which is my preference and why? Simple; Hey Joe every time. I’ve always been a rocker at heart and once even had the hair to enable me to do some proper head-banging at the student union disco. Hey Joe is for the rocker in me. Funnily enough, much though I love the Beatles’ oeuvre, I’ve never liked Hey Jude; it’s soppy, sentimental, musical mush and a turgid dirge. I simply cannot understand why it has been adopted as some sort of universal emotional anthem, unless, of course, it is truly representative of the spiritual and intellectual void that characterises the modern British society. Hence, no doubt, why it so perfectly encapsulated the empathy-at-a-comfortable-distance that was the gruesome Live8 fiasco. “Give us your gullibility!”
Go on, have your say and vote in the sidebar – I’m going to.>>>

ChookVote results announced

The last ChookVote poll has been running for far too long, and people really aren’t that keen on runny eggs at the best of time. After all, we did ask how voters liked their eggs and the results are as follows:

Surprisingly, the poll was tied between “scrambled” (mmm, my favourite!) and “other”.
Here are the comments that visitors left with their votes:

• Poached
• Me? I prefer slow-cooked, very soft, scrambled eggs; more like a set hollandaise than that lumpy yellow-and-white stuff you get elsewhere or, even worse, the slabs of stuff you get in hotels which weep water all over your plate – yuk!
• Shell on…down in one!!
• poached eggs get my vote
• i dont like eggs!!!
• You’ve got too much time on your hands, young Sir!
• Fried mind – not that rubbish “griddled” stuff. Sunny side up please, and done in about 5mm of bacon fat. Lovely…
• Poached eggs on toast – Mmmm!