A Myriad Thanks

I achieved a milestone this week. Not a big milestone as milestones go but a milestone nonetheless. Perhaps that should be a 1.609344 kilometre-stone in these time of metric nonsense or even an 880fathom-stone for the diving fraternity? It matters not in the general scheme of things but you are undoubtedly agog at the cause of all this excitement..................?

Well, if you let your eyes travel down the left side of my blog, past the profile and the picture of the rather dashing chap relaxing with a bottle of Bud, you will see a counter which has reached the figure of 10,000! In other words, there have now been that many visitors to the blog. It sounds pretty ace although my stats show a lot of those merely got here through Googling a certain word or phrase and stopped for about 3 nanoseconds when they realised I was not quite what they wanted..........but stop they did. I tend not to leave lots of keywords and things to increase the hit figure as I would rather be small and discreet with an air of sophisticated quality (rather like a Gucci version of Tena); after all, to quote Disraeli, "lies, damned lies and statistics".

When I first started this blogging lark, some 2 years and 131 blogs ago, little did I think.................and I still don't. The words that appear are a spontaneous reaction between keyboard and fingers with absolutely no interference from the brain whatsoever! I regret none of my blogs although there have been a few disappointments along the way. For example, I don't think I have ever used "callipygian ", which is rather a nice word (and an even nicer meaning), my flying exploits haven't caught the attention of the Red Arrows, my humour has not tickled the humeri of such comedy legends as Cleese, Connolly or Carrott (unless, of course, they are too in awe to contact me), I haven't even reached the first step on the road to fame by getting invited onto 'I'm a Celebrity'!

Having said that, I have a merry band of very loyal readers and to them I offer my heartfelt thanks.. Some I know, some I know of and some I am just aware that they read my blog fairly regularly. I have a new little widget on the blog now which shows people who actually follow the blog; strangely enough, it's called Followers. At the moment, it has just the one follower (hello Mermaid632 :)) but I assume it can cater for more so feel free to come out of the closet, so to speak.

10,000 has an almost mystic significance in several civilisations. In ancient times it was used as a symbol for the number that followed 9,999 as well as (strangely enough) the one which precedes 10,001 whereas in Papuan folklore it symbolises great wealth and literally translates into "Cripes, he's got more bush pigs than there are missionaries in the cooking pot). The Patagonians of the past worshipped the great God IOOOO whereas the England cricket team view it as 100 innings'.

Other exciting facts about 10,000:

• A myriad is specifically defined as 10,000
• In scientific terms, it is written as 10⁴
• It is the square of 100
• It's the square root of 100,000,000
• A myriagon is a polygon with 10,000 sides (no doubt, Blue Peter will show you how to make one if you supply enough egg boxes)
  
• In anatomy, each neuron in the human brain is estimated to contain 10,000 others
• Land of 10,000 Lakes is the nickname for the state of Minnesota
• 10,000 square metres is one hectare
• In zoology, there are approximately 10,000 species of birds
• In currency, the new Iraqi 10,000 dinar notes has a portrait of Abu Ali Hasan Ibn al-Haitham on the front, the Japanese 10,000 yen has a picture of Fukuzawa Yukichi and the US $10,000, a portrait of Salmon P Chase

• In films, titles include 10,000 B.C. (2008), 10,000 Black Men Named George (2002), The Phantom from 10,000 Leagues (1956) and Vietnam: The Ten Thousand Day War (1980)
• In games, each of the nine Mahjong character suit tiles (1 to 9) represents ten thousand (wan) coins. Ten Thousand Year Ko is a one of the rules of ko in the board game of Go and Ten Thousand is one name of a dice game that is also called Farkle
• In music, 10,000 Men is a song by Bob Dylan
• In sports, 10,000 metres is approximately 9,975 metres more than I like to run

Well, that was all jolly exciting wasn't it? No doubt you all want to rush off and pass on these little nuggets to others so I will say a fond farewell for the moment.

Once again, appreciation to all of you. Should you have stumbled upon this due to Googling "polygon with 10,000 sides", feel free to stay awhile and immerse yourself in this cornucopiea of nonsense and whimsy.

Oh, and finally, today's challenge - betcha can't fit callipygian into a conversation!

(Not so a)Musings

Looks like another sleepless night ahead. Staring out of the window at the empty road; wanting to drive into the night and off who knows where?

Driving away from what is within me and which cannot be escaped.

Recently, I found a lot of writing I did about 10 years ago when I was first diagnosed as depressive. I wrote a lot then but now I find it increasingly difficult to place my deeper thoughts on paper. Perhaps that's because they haven't changed? Perhaps it's because I have given up trying to justify the causes. Perhaps I have just given up?

I wrote this. I don't remember why; maybe it was a therapeutic exercise (you'll have to imagine the cynically wry smile at this point. Even then, I knew I was a lost cause):

My Favourite Things

People are one of my favourite things.Perhaps because, at times, I feel so apart from them whilst, at others, they affect my life so radically. They continually challenge and excite.

Ever-changing, I love to see the unintentional humour of a situation, the tenderness in a mother's eye, the poignancy of a lover's kiss, the beetle-browed bluster of Mr Always Right, the wisdom of advancing years and the subtle interactions of a million lives and moods.

I love the unpredictability of people - each one so special, so unique. I love to hear their laughter, I feel for their pain, I long for their acceptance.

Without people, I would be forever searching for someone. With people, I am forever searching for something.

People give me love, they allow me to live, to grow and maybe, one day, to understand.

I know now I will never understand as I don't even know what I am seeking.

It's all questions with no answers, riddles without solutions and a future without substance.

Still, on the bright side, as I sit here and look out to the harbour, there's no sign of any Somalian pirates on the cross-channel ferry. Every cloud......and all that!

I really don't want to face another night of wakefulness. I dozed for literally 5 minutes earlier this evening and that seemed to be enough to recharge my batteries. The same happened last night and I eventually got to sleep at 7am. Having said that, I quite like the tranquility of night-time; maybe I ought to get dressed, go to Asda and develop a social life? Better still, maybe I ought to get a job that involves nights? Vampire? Owl catcher? How about switchboard operator at Insomniacs Anonymous? Presumably you answer the phone by saying "Hello, Insomniacs Anonymous, I can't say to whom you're speaking, how can I help you?".

What about people who have an addiction for craving fame? You can hardly have a Fame-Cravers Anonymous, can you? Defeats the whole object. Mind you, there is a wealth of TV programmes to cater for all of them.

Can't even watch live cricket tonight. Let's have a look what's on Sky:

Ooh I tell a lie, it's Australia v New Zealand or better still, there's live American Football until 4.30! Bengals versus the Steelers.

Right, that'll do me. Night, all you normal people - Vaya con Dios.

A Bassett History

As some of you may know. flying is in my heart and in my blood. Why, young Icarus Bassett was the first person to fly to the Sun (apart from Rupert Murdoch)  although, sadly, his test shots for Page 5 were rejected after his pectoral implants melted under the studio lights.

The Bassettier Brothers, following a night at the local curry emporium and several very silly schoolboy japes involving a condom and a disposable lighter, hit upon the idea of balloon flight and became the first humans to fly from one side of the river Dresser in Poland to the other. Since that momentous occasion, Bassetts have been renowned as cross-Dressers.

Wilbur and Orville Bassett's efforts were overshadowed by events at Kittyhawk. They were busy on the sands of Shitehawk where they experimented with rockets. However, they found that over a longer period, wings were much safer and thus developed the aircraft as we know it. Their first attempt was actually much longer than the Wright Brothers although, sadly, we know not how long as steering was not high on their priorities and they were last seen heading out into the Atlantic.

WW1 saw the first airborne fighting Bassett, whose wits were pitted against the scourge of the Royal Flying Corps - The Red Baron! Percival Bassett, or the Yellow Count (at least, I think that's what the German fliers used to shout at him) took part in many dogfights with the Baron. Dogfights were all very well but Percival soon tired of Binkie, his beloved Yorkshire terrier being savaged by Von Richtofen's dobermann, Beckenbauer, so he took to the skies to give battle instead. The sun glinted off his goggles as he flew through the clouds. He peeled them off and wished that the squadron hadn't been scrambled whilst he was at the swimming pool as it was getting a bit chilly in his khaki Speedos.

He looked down and saw a glint of red. Hmm, chlorine rash could be a terrible thing.

Suddenly he saw a line of bullet holes across the fabric of his Sopwith Camel - the Fokker was attacking! He realised he was doomed and decided to bale out whilst he still could. It was as he plummeted through the air that he realised it was still to be several more years before aircraft were equipped with parachutes. Damn this bloody war.

Between the wars, young Biggles Bassett was at University where he studied Integrated Modular Avionics and Looking Grimly Determined. The 1939 hostilities saw him undergoing the selection course at RAF Cranwell where his slightly below par performance resulted in a posting to HM Submarines at Portsmouth. By a combination of determination and a rather smudged photograph of the Air Chief Marshall and a young Turkish lad, Bassett finally undertook pilot training at RAF Nether Wallop where he passed out...... several times. Eventually though, he got over his fear of heights and the time came for his first solo. Up into the skies he soared; a young gladiator, charged with the responsibility of saving his homeland, alone, several thousand feet up in the air, half an inch of wood and canvas between him and certain death, lost ........alone ........frightened.

He felt something jettison from beneath him (which made him feel a whole lot better) and his jaw tightened as the integral Bassett hero chromosome kicked in. He cast a glance across the horizon as he climbed, ever faster, and wondered at the green and brown of the sky and how it contrasted with the light blue of the ground far below. Ah, he could never get that bit right .............. He was buried, with full military honours, in a matchbox. Incidentally, the military honours were on behalf of the Imperial Japanese Airforce, after his cousin Bassimoto heard of his action and this inspired a completely new way of attacking enemy shipping.

I, of course, follow in the footsteps (wingprints?) of these illustrious forebears. No doubt I shall prove as competent as my predecessors.

Tally ho!

Incidentally, here's another little video for your pleasure - hope you like it :)

Bertie's Travelogue Part 4 - Algiers to Iraklion

After leaving Algiers, I eventually arrived at Palma Airport, Majorca. Fortunately, being a virtual flight, I didn't have to join the inevitable queue of easyJet and Ryanair cattle trucks waiting to disgorge their cargoes of holidaymakers, gagging to get to the nearest karaoke bar and a pint of Watney's best bitter. Actually, that's a bit cruel as I've been to Majorca before and found parts of it absolutely delightful. My main memory is actually from my honeymoon when I broke my arm in three places playing football!

Majorca is the largest of the Balearic Islands, the others being Minorca, Ibiza and Formentera. It boasts some august residents, both past and present, including Chopin, Miró, Michael Schumacher, Julian Lennon, Boris Becker, Rafael Nadal, Michael Douglas & Catherine Zeta-Jones.

If you ever get the urge to head down that way, might I recommend Formentera? It's the smallest island and certainly the least spoiled when I was there. You arrive by boat from Ibiza and it still retained a hippy lifestyle around the capital of San Francisco. Incidentally, I slipped a disc whilst holidaying there - just what have the Balearics got against me?

Yet another Euro country, so here are some older and more recent peseta banknotes for your pleasure.

Refuelled, and off we go to Elmas on the island of Sardinia. The actual flights across the watery sections of the Med are fairly boring until I get towards the Greek Islands but I'm looking forward to casting a glance down towards one of my favourite places - Corsica. Elmas is just outside Cagliari, the capital of Sardinia and towards the south of the island so I made a slight deviation and headed off to look fondly upon the beautiful island of Corsica. The southern part of the island holds a host of memories for me and I could almost feel the warmth of the water whilst diving off Bonifacio.

I know that Sardinia is Italian but I am still going to post a French banknote in homage to Antoine de St Exupery, aviator and author who will forever be linked with the Mediterranean and whose body lies beneath the waves.

Moving wistfully on to Naples, I was quite excited as I have never, ever been to Italy. I dutifully consulted Wikipedia to discover some interesting facts and ploughed through acres of information about Roman culture, art, history and the like. It was at this point that I remembered why I had never wanted to visit Italy - I just don't get off on such stuff! I enjoy history and visiting places but there is something about Italy that just leaves me totally cold. I'm sure that would change if I were to go there but, for the moment, there are plenty of places that take precedence. As far as Napoli is concerned, their salami and the fact that it is apparently the birthplace of pizza seem worthy of note. Why, even the notable Neapolitans through the ages are all foreign!

Hanging my uncultured head in shame, I passed swiftly on to Palermo in Sicily. I always tend to video my landings in the hope that I might eventually get one more or less OK and here is the effort at Falcone-Borsellino Airport.



Sicily is of course synonymous with the Mafia although there is a lot more to the island. Sicilians (for that is what they think themselves - not Italians), are a proud race with a rich heritage of tradition, food, folklore and culture with "family" always at the heart of every action. The Mafia (Cosa Nostra) date, arguably, back to medieval times and were originally families who were looked on as protectors of their local area, town or village. The period of the "Fascisti" in the late 1920s saw a clampdown on their power and this, together with the immigration opportunities in the USA, saw the growth of the families in America and the vogue of horse's heads decorating one's pillows!

The Mafia still goes on, with Palermo Airport being named after the 2 anti-Mafia judges assassinated by them in 1992. In the spirit of true commerce, however, the Mafia has turned into one of Italy's biggest business enterprises with a turnover of more than US$120bn a year. Somehow, I think I wouldn't like to be their Collector of Taxes. Here are a couple of examples of what they might have earned in 1944 and 1990 (the lady being Mme. Montessori; she of the schools).

Time to say 'arrivederci' to Italy and 'kalispera' to Athens. I have never been to mainland Greece although I was lucky enough to have been on the flight deck of a British Airtours aircraft once as we overflew Athens and Piraeus Harbour. A friend of mine was a pilot with them and he'd arranged for me to spend time up there (obviously before 9/11). As we passed over the harbour, the aircraft started banking sharply which was a bit of a worry as the captain was turned round and talking to me, the first officer was doing a crossword and the flight engineer was peering at something on a panel. For a second, I panicked and it must have shown in my eyes as the captain laconically said "automatic pilot" and then carried on chatting. Once I'd relaxed it was a wonderful sight!

Do I really need to say anything about Athens? A few little-known facts might be of interest:

• It has more theatrical stages than any other European city
• It has its own Metro
• It has 5 professional football teams
• It hosted the 51st Eurovision Song Contest in 2006 (won by Lordi)
• Athenian bus drivers are renowned for not stopping at bus stops

and...................

• We've still got their Marbles!

Greece is one of the prime examples of hyperinflation (something of a speciality interest of mine). In 1943, the highest denomination was 25,000 drachmai yet, by 1944, the highest denomination was 100,000,000,000,000 drachmai. The Greek inflation rate reached 8.5 billion percent per month (prices effectively doubling every 28 hours). Incidentally, that second note doesn't look that impressive without all the zeroes - this Yugoslavian one is far more the business!


Final leg of this blog and it was off to Crete and the airport at Heraklion. It's always nice landing at airports I have "done" in real life and here was another. I had a happy time identifying all the islands in sight as I flew over the Cyclades - thank goodness for Google in the cockpit :)

Crete is a fabulous place and I have vivid memories of my time there when I was (much) younger............ and who might this young Greek god be, posing at the harbour of Agios Nikolaos? I can remember hiring a car and driving up a long, climbing, winding road and then stopping in awe as I saw the Lassithi Plateau stretched out ahead of us.

We were further amazed when, asking for somewhere to get a drink in a small village, we were feted by the locals who still loved the Brits (and hated the Germans), following the war. We spent several hours there being wined and dined whilst the locals practised their English. Apparently, visitors were few and far between so they used the opportunity wisely. I remember little of the return journey but, amazingly, we somehow made it!

Two other "must visit" places are the Minoan Palace of Knossos, where Theseus won on away goals against the Minotaur and the Samaria Gorge at Chania. The gorge, longest in the world, is truly beautiful and I have never seen so many butterlies in one place.

Well, that's about it for the moment. Here's a map of what's been happening so far. Tonight I'm off to Africa!

(click to enlarge)

An Interjection

After a long but very pretty flight from Palermo to Athens last night, I retired to bed dreaming dreams of azure seas with the quiet rumble of a well-tuned engine lulling me into the arms of Morpheus ...........(actually, truth be told, I lay awake for ages reading "The Last Enemy" by Richard Hillary before finally drifting off at about 5am but it's not quite so romantic).

The reason for this little interjection in my global circumnavigation is to point out a comment from my last blog. It said this:

glad to see you are enjoying my Around The World trip! please keep us updated as you fly all the legs!

It took me months to design the route so it is really exciting to see someone who has bought the package flying it and clearly enjoying it!

all the best
Jane Whittaker
(designer - Around The World In 80 Flights package)

I have to say I was more than a little chuffed that the designerof the whole concept had taken the trouble to leave a comment. It is almost like the technological equivalent of my Terry Pratchett signed first editions so thank you, Jane.


The software concerned is called Around the World in 80 Flights and is published by First Class Simulations. The company do some superb FSX add-ons and I totally recommend them to any armchair pilots out there. It's no coincidence that, with Christmas coming up, I left their home page open on my PC when Mrs B was around. Incidentally, assuming it is the same Jane Whittaker, she also writes some excellent articles for PC Pilot magazine and the thought that she is a "proper" writer and also, judging from her articles, a very competent aviatrix fills me with fear of her perusing my own meagre efforts.

Once I finish this epic journey (although I may well become another St. Exupery if I fly as badly as I did whilst landing at Athens in the early hours this morning: an episode in my burgeoning flying career which is best forgotten*), I intend to actually get off my derriere and plan flights around both South America and China and the Far East.

Of course, if First Class Simulations want to take on the concept and require beta testers, advisers etc.....................!


* Imagine a cross between a crab and a kangaroo. Forget "The Few", this more more like "The Phew" when I eventually touched down!

Bertie's Travelogue Part 3 - Lisbon to Algiers

I think you left me last time sampling the delights of downtown Lisbon before a short hop to the southern Portuguese city of Faro. I have to say that my journeys through Europe have never taken me there before (Portugal, that is) and I've yet to meet anybody who doesn't say what a wonderful place it is.

Faro itself has both Arab and Roman ruins although the Moors were the predominant rulers until it became part of Portugal as we know it. In 1596, the Earl of Essex (complete with chain mail white stilettos and Von Dutch logo'd shield) popped in on his way to the Crusades and basically nicked the entire library of the Bishop of Faro. These books are still in the Bodleian at Oxford. Apart from the obvious holiday potential of the Algarve, Faro has one of the biggest annual motorcycle festivals in Europe so break out the AC/DC music, leap on the Honda 50 and ride!

In a bid to make this whole travelogue/blog more interesting I have decided I can combine another of my loves and post both a modern and an older example of each country's paper currency (for those of you who know my feelings on the Euro (see here), the modern versions will be pre-Euro in the relevant countries).

Here then are Portugal's representatives for your viewing pleasure. As always, kudos and thanks to Ron Wise for his wonderful banknote database. I will try and show similar notes to ones I also have in my own collection but, to save hassle, I will link to Ron's examples.

OK, now for the one I'd been looking forwad to - Gibraltar. As I said the other day, it's an interesting landing here as, due to the ongoing issue of sovereignty, the Spanish refuse to allow aircraft arriving at Gibraltar to overfly the Spanish Coast on final approach which makes for difficult aviation procedures. Basically, this means a very tight turn before lining up to a very short final approach on runway 09 ........oh. and try not to hit the big rocky lump!

It was actually quite a simple descent and landing in a single engine aircraft although I think I'll wait a while before I try it in a "heavy". The one thing I remember above all else when I was there in my late teens/early twenties was walking off a palm-lined street full of burnous-clad Arabs into a Spar grocers which might just as well have been in dear old Blighty. Having just come over from Morocco, it was the strangest experience but also very comforting to see Marmite, Rich Tea and Corn Flakes!

Of course, Gibraltar uses Pounds sterling and here are both old and new.

Pausing only to stock up on Caramacs and Tizer, I set off for Algiers which is basically a flight routed to Malaga, then over to the north coast of Africa and then follow the camel tracks along the beach.


I thought the beach seemed a tad large as I flew along and then realised I was actually gazing down some 9000' and seeing the northern edge of the Sahara! At last, I was out of Europe and into exotic and I wondered anxiously just how many carpets I would be persuaded to buy once I reached Algiers.

Memories of Morocco and Tunisia flooded back. I spent the princely sum of £108 for a fortnight's holiday at a place called Camp Africa in Asilah as a young man and had the dubious pleasure of living in a mud hut with no electricity, no furniture and merely a mattress on the floor. Having said that, it was a great time and I have many strange memories of that holiday. I can't actually remember doing a drunken dance with a couple of cobras in a Tangier night club but have the photos to prove it, I can remember one guy going a bit doolally and the only way to calm him (the local medical authorities not being interested) was to go and fill his mud hut with calming herbal smoke; needless to day, there was no shortage of volunteers. I can also remember that there was only water available in the camp between 8pm and 10pm. With the incidence of Arab tummy being quite high, I'll leave you to imagine the state of the communal bogs at about 7pm!!

Anyway, I digress. Founded by the Phoenicians, Algiers has historically been one of the main ports of the Mediterranean as well as the main centre for piracy. In 1511 the Spanish occupied an island in the city's harbor, but they were driven out when Barbarossa captured Algiers for the Turks. Algiers then became a base for the Muslim fleet that preyed upon Christian commerce in the Mediterranean. The French came along in 1830 and stayed around until 1962 when the armed struggle for independence, led by the OAS, resulted in a free Algeria.

The airport at Algiers isn't the most well-kept but it's flat and there was a fuelling depot so, leaving some links of 1924 and 1996 currency as a souvenir of Biggles Bassett, I once more took to the air for a shortish hop back up to the island of Palma de Mallorca.

This is me on the way there (kill the music first)!