A Very Thoughtful Gift

~ beetleypete ~ 46 Comments

(The two photos are from Flickr. Clicking on them will take you to Flickr, where they can be enlarged.)

Ollie Toy 3

Last December, I met up with a lady dog-walker I hadn’t seen for some time. She walks a loveable Whippet named Missy who is always excited to see Ollie and me over on Beetley Meadows or Hoe Rough. I told her that I had just received the sad news that Ollie had cancer.

She remarked that she had a large stuffed toy dog at home that was a Sharpei, like Ollie. I told her he would love to have that, but she said, “I meant for you and your wife to have it, to remember him when he is gone”.

I gave the lady my address, and not long after Christmas, she called round to give us the toy. Ollie thought it was for him of course, but we put it away and he was diverted by seeing Missy the Whippet.

Now we have lost Ollie, the toy sits next to our wood-burner in the living room. Although the colour is not the same, it does look a lot like him when he was young. That was a lovely gesture, and a very thoughtful gift.

Some might think it as silly or over-sentimental of us to do this. But I don’t care, as it gives me great comfort. The photos are taken inside the small hallway, where he would wait for me outside the office room as I used the PC.

Ollie Toy 2

Essentials For Cat-Lovers

~ beetleypete ~ 52 Comments

When it comes to making products that appeal to certain markets, designers and manufacturers let their imaginations run free. I can think of quite a few bloggers who might like to own some or all of these. 🙂

Cat refrigerators.

Cat Caravan. (Trailer)

Cat Bed. (For humans)

Cat Chair. (Try getting the cat out of it though)

Cat Desk.

Cat Bath.

Cat Coffee Maker.

Cat Vacuums.

Cat Motorcycle.

Cat Toilet. (For humans)

Cat Side Table.

Cat Bookcase.

The Darker Side Of Scams

~ beetleypete ~ 82 Comments

Not long before Christmas, I got the news that Ollie had cancer. Hearing that, my mind was all over the place, and I wasn’t concentrating that much on anything else.

Around the same time, I received an email in my GMail account. It wasn’t marked as Spam, and was in my usual inbox, right at the top. The subject line caught my attention immediately.

(In the following text, I have deliberately not shown any screenshots, or used actual names. I don’t want to help any scammers who might copy this)

Garda Síochána. Notice of intended prosectution.

I opened it, wondering what the police in the Republic of Ireland were emailing me about. It was a formal structure, with the address of the Dublin Headquarters, and the name of a female prosecutor under that. I noted that the prosecutor was part of the Garda Síochána Child Protection Unit, and was based at Europol Headquarters in The Netherlands where she was a European Liaison officer.

It had my name and my gmail address under that, followed by this.

‘This is to inform you that you have 72 hours to acknowledge this email and reply. The email address stated above has been identified as being used to forward pornographic images to other email addresses, including images of underage minors. Failure to acknowledge and reply will result in a warrant being issued for your arrest’.

Below that were lists of various EU laws that I had supposedly contravened that I would additionally be charged with, and the signature of the female prosecutor concerned.

My first thought was that my GMail account had been hacked, then used nefariously. I replied immediately, stating that this must be the case and asking for visual evidence of the emails and who they had been sent to.

Fifteen minutes later, I received an email from the police in Belgium, with official logos and genuine addresses. A female police officer informed me that the emails had come from my own IP address, so hacking was not considered. Some of the emails had been sent to addresses in Belgium, but they were not going to disclose them to me.

Confused, I went onto Google and did some searches. The Irish female prosecutor mentioned did exist, and was currently working in Brussels, on behalf of the Republic of Ireland. The female police officer in Belgium also existed, but her name was very ‘ordinary’, and I got dozens of hits on it, including many women with the same name in France and Belgium.

So I replied again, offering to surrender all my electronic devices to the police in England, to prove I had not done what I was being accused of. This was rejected, as England is no longer part of Europol. I was told that I could face trial in Dublin for those offences. Even more confusing. If a trial in Dublin was to happen, then why would the Garda Síochána be writing to me about Belgium, and passing me on to a Belgian police officer? Besides, I used to work for the Metropolitan Police in London, so I knew that Ireland would have to apply for extradition, after an initial arrest in England.

My last reply was to suggest that the local police visit me at home. I would give a formal statement, surrender my devices, and take it from there.

Then the scammers blew their cover.

‘Mr Pete.
We have decided that you will only face a fine on this occasion. If you agree to pay two thousand euros in the next 72 hours, there will be no further action by the Garda Síochána. Please confirm that you are willing to pay, and we will send you account details to transfer the money by Western Union.’

I was relieved to realise that it was a China-based scam, undoubtedly. Hence the use of my first name as my surname in the reply. (Chinese surnames are written first, as in Mao Tse Tung, Mao is the surname. Also, they wanted a Western Union money transfer, which no court or police service would ever request. I replied that I knew they were scammers, and would be reporting them to the police. That was the last I heard from them.

Using an online form to report this to the local police, I was later redirected to a long list of similar ‘criminal charges’ scams that are well-known to the police.

This took less than an hour of my time, but left me wondering what would have happened to someone who had never had any dealings with the police or crime. Even if totally innocent, they might have been tempted to pay, to avoid any potential ‘scandal’. Mud sticks, as we all know too well.

Repurposed Telephone Boxes

~ beetleypete ~ 53 Comments

The classic British telephone box is a rare sight outside of London these days. Increased use of mobile phones is making conventional phone boxes a thing of the past. So they are being removed and sold off to become collector’s items. However, many are also being repurposed, to capitalise on their iconic status in the UK.

A home bar and drinks cabinet.

Cut into pieces to make a bedside cabinet or side table.

A lift to access the other floors of a house.

An extra toilet in the garage/workshop.

Painted blue and used as a display cabinet.

A useful bookcase.

A planter.

A ‘Free Library’. Take the books you want to read, leave behind some books you have read.

The Boat: Part Fourteen

~ beetleypete ~ 38 Comments

This is the fourteenth part of a fiction srial, in 780 words.

Watching the man walking in his direction, Ricky thought he could have come from the set of any modern mafia film. There was the self-assured swagger, the shiny grey handmade suit worn with a black polo shirt, and glossy patent loafers on his feet. A hundred-dollar haircut and sunbed tan completed the image.

Behind him, the man standing by the side of the Toyota truck was wearing an ankle-length raincoat on a dry, bright afternoon, indicating he was hiding whatever was being carried inside it. Just the two of them then. Ricky confirmed that by looking around.

Vincent was overly friendly.

“Hey, fella. How ya doing? You picked a good spot here, but it’s kinda public, doncha think? Maybe move your pickup over under those trees there, then my guy can bring the Toyota and you can swap the boat?” Not fooled by the friendly smile, Ricky chose to act tough.

“Ain’t moving nowhere until I see the money, mister. You got the money to show me?” Vincent spread his hands wide, then opened his jacket.

“Relax. I ain’t packing, look. The money is in the Caddy. You think I was gonna just walk over with it? Calm down, and let’s get this done”. Ricky was looking over Vincent’s shoulder, watching the tough guy in the long coat. He hadn’t moved. Ricky stood his ground.

“You show me the money. You can see I got the boat, I need to see the money”. The wiseguy turned to his companion, and waved him forward. Long Coat stopped and popped the trunk of the Caddy, reaching in and removing a suitcase. One of those small ones, the sort you can carry-on a flight.

Looking at Ricky with undisguised contempt, he brought the case over and snapped open the latches. Inside was a lot of money. Old notes, small denominations bundled in thousands secured by rubber bands. Vincent dropped the friendly act.

“So I showed you the money. Now you ain’t getting the case until the boat’s on the back of the Toyota, so just move it under those trees like I asked, before it gets dark”.

Driving the short distance into the trees, and looking for a gap in the woodland large enough to make the switch, all of Ricky’s senses told him there was no way they were going to give him the money.

Once out of view of the parking lot, they were one hundred percent intending to whack him and take the boat. He knew that for sure. But for now, he had to go through the motions.

The Toyota followed him into the trees, with Vincent now in the passenger seat. When he stopped his pickup, the mob guy leaned out of the window, shouting and waving. “Not here. Go further!” Unwilling to get to a place where he couldn’t turn the boat around on the trailer, he carried on for a hundred yards more and stopped. Before anything else could be said, he got out, walked to the back, and started to unlock the hitch.

It was the loud clicking sound of the shotgun being racked that stopped him dead. He rolled forward like they did in the films, reaching back for the automatic as he came up in a crouching position.

Long Coat guy had fired the sawn off, but had badly underestimated Ricky. The buckshot had hit a tree off to the left, and Ricky was already wildly firing the automatic before the man had a chance to work the pump-action for the next round. When the magazine was empty, Ricky grabbed a spare from his coat pocket and reloaded before he stood up.

Vincent was hit, but moving. The blood seemed to be around his right side, above his hip. He was bent over, pulling up his trouser leg to reach the ankle holster containing a hidden pistol. Ricky fired twice in quick succession. The first bullet missed, the second hit Vincent square in the side of his head above his ear.

Hearing a groan, Ricky looked to his left to see the other guy flat on his back, his right hand extended toward the shotgun he had dropped. Three more shots hit him in the centre of his chest and he stopped groaning.

Running back to the Toyota, he found the case on the back seat. Trembling, he stared at the Caddy in the parking lot beyond. There was nobody around. He had to hope that the gunfire hadn’t been heard and the cops hadn’t been called. Just in case they had, he didn’t have much time.

But time enough to hitch the boat to the Toyota and get the hell out of there.

Ollie’s Last Car Ride

~ beetleypete ~ 160 Comments

In the early hours of this morning, Ollie woke us up by making some noise in the kitchen. He was breathless and panicking, and for the first time since his cancer diagnosis last December, we knew his time had come. He could not be settled, and his breathing was laboured and very rapid.

As our usual Vet does not open until 08:30, Julie rang the emergency number, and got through to Fakenham Veterinary Hospital. We spoke to the Vet on duty, and said he had to be put to sleep and we would be bringing him in. Once we were ready, I lifted Ollie into the car, and he relaxed onto his bed in the back. On the 30-minute journey he managed to calm down, as he dearly loved to ride in the car with us.

The Vet and her assistant nurse were very kind to him, and gave him treats, which he ate immediately. As there were no other animals or people in the hospital at that time, Ollie was remarkably calm. A cannula was inserted into his leg, then a rug and blankets were put on the floor in a side room. We were given time with him before the Vet returned with the medication, and both sat on the floor holding him as he was injected with it.

Once he was pronounced dead, we were given more time with him until I became too distressed to stay any longer.

We have arranged for a cremation, and his ashes will be returned to us in a couple of weeks in a small casket with his name on it.

Coming back to the house and not seeing Ollie there to greet us as usual was the hardest thing. I wanted to let you know, as I am aware that Ollie is much loved in our community.

Later today, I will reply to some comments on blog posts, but I will not be able to catch up with yesterday’s posts from bloggers I follow.

The Boat: Part Thirteen

~ beetleypete ~ 33 Comments

This is the thirteenth part of a fiction serial, in 755 words.

Still driving north on the coutry road, Ricky saw a campsite sign off to the left and took the rutted track leading to it, hoping nothing came the other way. It opened out at the end next to a small lake with a tired-looking jetty for boat launches.

Nobody else was there, so it looked to be a good enough place to spend the night. He knew he really should try to contact Connie, but wanted to wait until he had some good news to tell her. She was going to have to stay mad at him until he had the money.

After his last experience of sleeping in the boat, this time he made sure to secure the small door to the cabin. He had been checking the rear-view all day, and hadn’t seen the same car twice. But he was nervy, all the same. The phone showed a seventy-percent battery, so he decided not to use it as a torch.

Once it got dark, it was completely black but for some watery moonlight, and all he could hear was the sound of nocturnal animals and birds in the distance.

When he woke up needing to pee, it was barely light. He had slept so soundly, just as well no Cubans had come to get him.

Far too early to drive all the way to Saratoga Springs, he reckoned a good breakfast would be the thing, and retraced the track up to the main road, where he soon saw a sign for Kingston. That would reconnect him with the eighty-seven north, and there was bound to be a cafe or diner up there.

The Breakfast Special was very good, though he had to wait a while, as the diner had just opened. The waitress was getting on in years, and trying to cover that up with too much make-up. Her style was chatty and flirty as she slid the plate in front of him.

“You in the service? Have to say I’m partial to a man in uniform. Let me get you some more coffee, honey”. She must have been fifty if she was a day, but he didn’t want to piss her off and cause a scene. So when she brought the check he tipped her almost ten dollars, and winked at her as he left.

It was less than two hours to Saratoga Springs, going left on the ninety to avoid Albany. It was bigger than he expected, so he turned off into the State Park and found a quiet parking lot.

Vincent answered the phone before it had hardly rung.

“You here already? Jeez, I’m gonna need a coupla hours. We’re up at the Hilton, you anywhere near there?” Ricky told him he was in the State Park, and he didn’t know where the Hilton was.

“Good choice. A truck towing a boat won’t get no attention in there. Okay, I’ll call ya”.

Beginning to wish he hadn’t quit smoking when Connie announced she was having a baby, Ricky was not only bored, his nerves were jangling. This mob guy Vincent was talking like he paid to collect boats every day, and had no idea what a big deal it was for him. He checked his phone every five minutes for over two hours, and was close to giving up on all of it when it rang.

“Hey, fella. We’ll be there at five. Had to arrange something with a tow hitch. Don’t move from the parking lot you told me about”.

With even longer to wait than he had expected, Ricky was left wishing he had bought snacks and drinks. To while away the time, he examined the automatic he had taken from the Cuban, working out where the safety was, and how to change the magazine. Not that he expected to have to use it, but if it came to it there was more firepower than the Colt revolver.

The arrival of a car a few spaces away made him even edgier. But it was a woman driving a Buick, and she got one of those tiny dogs out the back and went off with it on a leash, not giving him so much as a glance. She was back in less than thirty minutes. He guessed such a small dog didn’t need much walking. His phone said five-fifteen when a silver Caddy drove in, followed by a white Toyota truck.

Ricky slipped the automatic into the back of his cammo trousers as the door of the Caddy opened.

More VW Campervan Design Goodies

~ beetleypete ~ 68 Comments

A large oven/cooker made to resemble a VW campervan won a lot of hearts last week. So I found some more items for you!
(All designs and photos credited to inspiringdesigns.net)

Refrigerator.

Toaster.

Small Oven/Grill.

Blender.

How about a toilet?

Bathroom sink unit?

Bath.

Bed.

If you are elderly like me, you might like the mobility scooters.

And if you struggle getting upstairs, how about a stairlift?

Domain Name Scam

~ beetleypete ~ 63 Comments

You may not have experienced this yet, but today I received the sixth email this year attempting to scam me over use of my domain name. They originate from different company names in China, and are usually well written and appear to be serious. It goes something like this.

* The ‘company’ informs me that an individual or organisation in China has applied to register my site domain name in China, for worldwide use as a trading name and website. This is referred to as either ‘Beetleypete’, or ‘Beetleypete.com’.

* The sender of the email informs me that he can oppose this in China on my behalf, and ‘represent me’ to stop this happening.

* There will be a fee for this, which he would like to discuss with me after I reply. All I need to do is send him the money by direct transfer from my bank.

Obviously, I didn’t fall for this, and I doubt anyone in our community would. But it never hurts to be aware.