Now for most of us, for the past couple of decades, this has involved passports, queues, euros and sunburn, but now we hear that the British holiday has made a huge comeback. This, apparently, is the saviour of our economy, which obviously isn’t true as if this was the case the amount of people taking their holidays at  home would have solved all our problems, and we wouldn’t be getting warnings of a double dip recession.

Whatever, or however, it is a fact that most of us are still going on holiday, more of us are staying in the UK, and the top holiday parks are investing millions of pounds in making sure that we have a super-dooper time and tell all our friends. Holiday offers in national newspapers where you save tokens and get a cheap breaks are obviously boosting the figures, but the question remains; home or away?

Let’s look at away first; the excitement of packing, the arriving at the airport and checking in, heading to the bar and having a beer, or 3, at 6am because ‘you’re on holiday now’, spending several hours at 30,000ft in a flying cattle shed, then landing, reclaiming your luggage (fingers crossed) and heading off to your resort. On paper it doesn’t sound that great, but we Brits absolutely love it.

A week or so later we do the exact reverse, except instead of jeans, t shirts and trainers, we are slightly more covered up that we were on the beach to show off our brown, red  and peeling skins, and our new flip flops. This makes no sense whatsoever as we are inevitably flying back to a temperature a helluva lot lower than we have become accustomed to, but we simply don’t want the holiday to end.

Now to home; load up the car/bus/train and sit for hours on a motorway amongst other like-minded tourists, arrive at your park,  heck in, try to find  your caravan/pitch from the map designed by a dyslexic martian and set up shop for the duration. If you want to play, swim or even eat, don’t ever leave your pass in your caravan/tent/motorhome, as the gorilla at the door will send you back for it, and you won’t even be able to eat without that piece of laminated paper.

The lack of sun is also guaranteed, and although kids are quite amenable, sandcastles in the rain aren’t a lot of fun. At the end of the day, there are thousands who genuinely enjoy the whole British holiday experience, and the jolly evening entertainment with that guy from Britain’s Got Talent, and £7 for a pint of flat beer. It’s all a matter of choice ultimately, but this writer is hunting out her passport……

Stopping smoking, stopping drinking, going to the gym, losing weight, changing our lifestyles are all examples of the kind of resolutions millions of us make every year, and fail. You can tell a smoker or a drinker that what they are doing is bad for them, can kill them, makes them socially unacceptable ’til you are blue in the face. They know this, they aren’t stupid, just addicted to these substances that make them feel sooo good when all else fails.

Giving up one of these is not something you can just decide during a drunken game of spin the bottle, it needs a lot of time, effort, self control, will power and you really have to WANT to do it. We all know the smoker who bemoans the price of their ciggies as they light one off the other one, or the drinker who falls into the house, makes like a worm on the carpet trying to get up, then proudly brandishes 4 fingers as they declare they have only had ’2 pintsh’.

The same applies to the perpetual dieter, they have been on every eating plan ever created, and while there are those who know exactly what shape they are and dress accordingly, there are also those who clearly see a size 8 when they look in the mirror and wobble around with acres of flab and stretch marks on display. These people shouldn’t make a resolution to lose weight, they should make a resolution to buy clothes that actually fit them!

That said, why do plus size clothes always have willowy models with tiny waists modelling them? Those in denial of how big they really are think by buying that strappy mini dress they will look exactly the same as the model, and the fact that that strappy mini dress is available in a size 30 also needs addressing. Bigger ladies can still dress stylishly, but there are things that should be covered up, dimpled thighs that rub together being one of them.

Going to the gym is, for the majority, a self inflicted form of torture, so why do so many think that it is the answer to their prayers. Spend a years wages on a membership and a set of gym clothes, buy a bottle of water and a headset and bingo, you’re all set for the treadmill. Then they go once, pull a muscle, or fall of the treadmill, and never go back again. These torture chambers serve their purpose for whose addiction to adrenaline equals that of a smoker, but for the rest of us, forget it.

The most prevalent type of  renewable energy in the UK is solar, which usually comes in the form of electricity generated using solar panels. This kind of system works by collecting energy from the sun on photovoltaic cells and then converting it into electricity that you can use in your home. The more energy you are able to produce from your solar panels, the less you will have to use from your current energy provider. In addition, solar panels only lose around 0.5 percent of their effectiveness each year, which means that even decades after you purchase them, they will still generate a significant amount of energy.

As a close second to solar power, wind power is also an option for homeowners looking to switch to green energy. Wind power is generated by small turbines that spin when hit by powerful winds. This kind of energy can also be used to power a home when small turbines are installed on the roof of a home or in the garden. Wind turbines, whilst they require more maintenance because of their moving parts, can last for more than two decades.

Obviously, not everyone will have the start-up cash that it takes to install one of these systems in their home. However, even if you can’t have your own solar or wind energy system, you can still take the Good Energy challenge by making sure your provider gets its electricity from a renewable source. And if the energy company that you currently use has no renewable plan, it is becoming easier to switch providers without penalties and fees.

Once you have set up a renewable energy system in your home, there are also steps you can take to make it easier to conserve energy. Everyone knows that turning off a light before leaving a room can save energy and turning off the tap whilst you brush your teeth can save water. However, new technology has also made it possible to have inexpensive fixtures and installations that can help you take steps like these without even thinking about it. If you value your energy savings, make small purchases like compact fluorescent light bulbs, motion-sensor light systems and tap fixtures that reduce the flow of water. All of these improvements can help you pocket even more of your own money and help save the environment.

Article by Good Energy

In the world of celeb however, it is more likely to be the other way around, and if they have a nice normal name, they are likely to be stand out a mile. Plus, they can’t join in the jolly japes at their posh kindergarten when Genesis, White and Lemon are arguing about who has the stupidest name.

Now most of you are probably trying to think of a star with a child with a normal name to blow the theory of this article right out of the water, and it’s harder than you think isn’t it? Admittedly, some of the more unusual names are inoffensive; Suri for example, or Harper, you can even let Shiloh slip through, but what goes though these peoples heads when they turn colours, fruit and vegetables and numbers into names?

Inflicting a name like Blue on a baby is giving a negative vibe to start with, how can Blue be happy? Oh look, Blue is laughing, what’s that all about for Pete’s sake? Do they ever put these names into context and consider the consequences in later life? One of the most famous faux pas as far as names are concerned is when a certain US couple named Mr & Mrs Pipe named their son Dwayne, and when he was of age he sued them for cruelty.

Celebrities giving their kids daft names is nothing new either; Frank Zappa famously called his kids Dweezil, Moon Unit, Diva Muffin and Ahmed Emuukha, David Bowie had a Zowie, and Woody Allen and Mia Farrow obviously had a thing about schoolbags when they named their kid Satchel.

These outlandish choices of monickers make the likes of Fifi, Peaches, Pixie, Brooklyn, Scout and Bluebell seem almost run of the mill. If we named a child something like Strawberry Ermentrude Melonhead the congregation at the Christening would be trying to stifle their laughs, it the parallel universe known as celebrity they would be applauding their imagination and creativity.

At the end of the day, unless these kids have the good sense to change their names by deed pool, little Zowie Bowie renamed himself Joe, they are stuck with these names for a lifetime. While their parents may want to delight in saying ‘would you like an apple Apple?’ the joke runs thin after a while and while they may think that it will make their kids as famous as themselves, surely that is the kids’ decision to make not theirs….

The Big Brother referred to here is the fact that you cannot sneeze or break wind these days without it being recorded somewhere, and coming back to bite you on the bum at a later date, no pun intended. Everything we do or say is logged somewhere, we literally can’t do anything without it being noted, so it seems as if Big Brother is truly watching over us these days.

Granted, these logger/recorders/stalkers are clever about it. They make it sound as if the fact they have every second of our lives stored someone is actually for our own benefit and privacy is greatly over rated. Yeah right, so when we are in a mall and are using our smartphones, the fact that they are being tracked so our every movement can be monitored is a good thing? That’s open to debate.

Our lives now are quite simply an open book, there is nothing secret or private about anything. We browse a website; out details are logged, we make a purchase; our details are logged, even that sanctity of secrecy, voting, isn’t secret anymore.

Think about it, we get a voting card with a number on, it gets matched against our name and we are giving a ballot paper with the same number on, then we get a Christmas card from the party we voted for. To save time they may as well get us altogether and ask for a show of hands, but then the geek in the office sitting matching numbers with names and other personal details would be redundant.

We blame the age of technology for living in this big brother society, but in reality it goes back way further than that. There were cellars all around London at one time packed to the rafters with people personal info, then when the world of the floppy disk and computers arrived, a little bespectacled chap with a ghostly palor thanks to never seeing daylight, no doubt beavered away for hours transferring the data then shredding the files.

From the day we are born our info is logged, which is fair enough, but the fact we are tracked for the rest of our days isn’t. You know that pin prick test they do in the heels of new born babies? This is supposedly to check for some disease, as far as we know a micro chip could be getting popped in there. If we ever got to see the heel of a criminal, they could well have a scar where they hacked theirs out to let them get away with their crimes.

At the end of the day, we have to say that George Orwell either had a fantastic imagination or could see into the future. Either way, Big Brother is here, there, and every where.

This obviously applies to parents over a certain age, and if you are younger it will be your grandparents who say this kind of thing, but they are still parents so you get the drift. The daft thing is that as much as well roll our eyes and nod our heads when these things are said, we are going to do exactly the same with our kids. Now most you are now shaking your heads and muttering but it’s true, you will.

Fast forward 20, 30 or even 40 years and you will be exactly the same; “ when I was little all I got for Xmas was an iPad, a plasma TV and Xbox and a boatload of other stuff”, or “you don’t know you’re born these days,  we only had Sky plus, blue ray players and laptops to entertain us, there was no 20ft 15D light refracting super dooper screen that sung and danced and brought you a coffee in the morning when I was a kid”.

While this may all seem like science fiction to some of you what we have to remember is that technology is moving forward with every generation. Think back a decade to what there was then and what we have now. So if you put that into the context of a generation and the leap forward is huge.

It doesn’t just stop at technology either, your parents/grandparents will have at some time or another complained about the cost of living, and said how they used to get go to the dance, have fish and chips afterwards, get the bus home and still have change of a tanner/shilling/pound/fiver. We’ll be telling our kids how we went to the supermarket, got a weeks shopping, had a coffee in the cafe, got a taxi home and still had change of £200.

Realistically, nothing is exactly the same as it was when we were kids, and it will be the same for the next generation. When the compact disc first appeared it was the greatest invention ever and was the future of music. If that’s the case the future must be less  than 2 decades as these are now becoming obsolete as MP3/4 players and iPods rule ok. PC’s went to laptops, to netbooks, to tablets and soon we’ll be wearing them on our wrists.

So next time your parents/grandparents get all nostalgic, keep those rolling eyes in check and think about what you will be saying to your kids, either face to face or through the live chat that is built into the arm of the sofa.

Granted, it makes sense for them to speak English as they are, after all, serving and dealing with thousands of British tourists every year, but you can’t escape the fact that English is one of the hardest languages in the world to learn, yet these young Greeks, Spanish, Portuguese, French etc speak it fluently. The point here is that some of them speak it better than ‘what we does’, as there is nothing more confusing than a local dialect.

Imagine for a moment that you are a Turkish waiter in a developing resort and you have been practising saying tea and coffee all winter, then into your cafe strolls some British tourists who then ask you for a cup of Rosie Lee or a cup of char. Local dialects don’t just stop at the names for things, the accents themselves cause all sorts of problems.

All accents have the understandable and the guttural, and the latter must be what every foreign worker dreads. They must lie in bed and pray for tourists from the home counties who sound like they have gargled with plums and speak slowly, distinctly and in the Queens English. These are very much is minority however, and a well practiced thank you is more likely to be met by a cheers mate that has them running for their phrase book.

This isn’t only a problem for our foreign friends however, as half of us don’t understand each other either. A Geordie walking into a Lancashire chippy and asking for a chip stottie will receive the kind of look reserved for the martians that pop in for a can of moondust, and the same applies for a Mancunian walking into a cafe in Newcastle for a bacon barm.

Put a cockney, a Glaswegian and a Geordie together and what do you get? Absolutely nothing as they haven’t got a blooming clue what the other two are talking about. There is the argument that you can refine your accent to make it more acceptable, but to be honest why should we deny where we are from and who we are, as our local accents are very much part of our identities.

The Geordie accent has been voted the friendliest in the UK, hence the fact that the north east is littered with call centres, the problem is that they then ship in staff from other areas in the country so we end up with a Cockney trainer trying to get the main points of good customer service across the a group of baffled Geordies, Poles and Teesiders. It’s enough to send you straight to the pub to relax with a bottle of dog!