Shouts From Down Under

Are you feeling hot, or feeling hhhhhot?

One bit of trivia first up. What's a baby Platypus called?

A Puggle.

OK.

Listening in to our son's conversation with his girlfriend and our daughter; he was explaining what the Cheerleader Effect is, something I'd never heard of until now. Yes, that's right, I'm not cutting edge up to date, but let's not dwell on that, shall we?

The Cheerleader Effect.
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Cheerleader%20effect

So what's in this for us? What poignant particular point am I focal-ling here? (Focal point - hence focal-ling = pushing the limits of acceptableness and credibility)

English, and the spelling of English words, is the most ridiculous language this side of Mars, I have to say.

Do we write better in a group situation such as WDC? Is this place like a hive where we signal with our word dances, and bump off each other's ideas, reflect success from each other, diffuse intellectual goodness through our interaction en mass.

If this is the case, if we sit in the dark alone, in the private space of our dwelling and mind, does this mean our work will be dramatically substandard. You know, lacking any flare or star burst of something special.
This cannot be true, surely.

Famous plumbers though. Do you ever hear of any? Has there ever been an amazing pipe fitting taped and tightened, or trench dug delightfully deep and meaningful, and global news crews raced to the scene, elbowing each other's sat dish topped pantec trucks out of the way to record the spectacular creativity?
They work alone don't they? Usually. You don't see a crowd of plumbers jammed in a toilet fixing a blockage. Perhaps two at most; one yelling instructions to another who is outside peering at the other end of the errant aqueduct. Come to think of it, with that crack in view, no wonder plumbers work alone.

Who else works unaccompanied?
Artists! They stand with palette and brush in hand, dabbing or sloshing away but it's obvious they lack that spark, the burning ember that only comes from rubbing shoulders with their peers.

And musicians! No wonder Mozart, Bach, Tchaikovsky and Beethoven didn't do very well. Now there's a bunch of go it alone brothers. Ditto Britney, Tina, Maria, Whitney and Celine. These sisters were obviously a mumble, whereas in a group they would have sung, sang, singed, songed, synced. Yep. Nay. They'd have SHOUTED.

Some writers we could vaguely gesture towards and mention in passing that their literary efforts never did get noticed much. Enid Blyton, Jane Austen, JK Rowling, Louisa May Alcott and Mary Angelou to name just a few solitary sisters who didn't get past whispers.

It's proven theory then, that a group effort, the Cheerleader Effect is a plug in gift of collective success. Once we all give more attention to this phenomenon, there'll be bus loads of best sellers changing hands, and cramming our aggregate bank accounts with co-operative cash.

And so at the end of the day, or blog, we can all raise a single very large glass, make a consolidated conversational toast, and take a slurp each at the same time on the circumference of fame.

It's as good as in the bag.

On a different note, our bathroom renovation is coming along nicely, thanks to our eldest son who just happens to be a carpenter, and an expert bathroom tiler. Take the tip from me. He's good at his job. I'd better recommend him.




This is the temporary door.



And new plumbing fittings for the shower mixer. No more old double taps.



To date.



Sparky