Do you love it? Do you loathe it? Do you care?

That’s because that diagram was too simple for you. Try this one (it’ll keep you off the Forum for a while!) but, WHATEVER YOU DO, don’t think about it next time you board a plane:

 

You've heard of multi-tasking? It's a woman thing.....the art of doing several things not very well instead of accomplishing tasks perfectly, one at a time. AKA pottering

 

You'd probably be alright with that picture as it looks more like something from a fighter jet than a modern airliner which look more like this Rolls Royce Trent 900 Turbofan

Just don't ask the person sat next to you if Rolls have solved the problem with turbine blades shattering. Nor comment on the fascinating way the wings move up and down almost like flapping.
Although if you do it often ensures a quiet flight.

 

Lucky for that woman who suggested you were no real man; how she must regret her remark ... although, of course, had you had a cutthroat razor, she would have no regrets!

 

I once flew up from East Midlands in an old Viscount and the chap sitting next to me said it made him feel confident to look out and see the Rolls Royce logo on the engines as he was a Rolls Royce engineer. Unfortunately, all I could see was a 35-year-old airframe which didn't make me feel confident. Especially as the wheels lifted off about 10 feet from the end of the runway. I thought we were about to drive up the motorway.

 

Oh @shiney please don't make me chuckle....it's too hot!

 

I’d nearly forgotten what this thread was about, so seeing the posting of an aircraft engine reminded me that it is about unwelcome noise.

Mme Lab would like a sound encounter she had with noise to be related on this Forum; it dates back to ≈ 1995, when she was still Mademoiselle LoiEtBordure; she’d bought a ground floor flat in Brixton; if you don’t like noise, that’s two mistakes, one being the location where noise is a welcome prerequisite, the other is having someone living above you.

My phone rang at one o’clock in the morning: You’ve got to come over and help me.

I hopped on my motorbike and arrived at her flat in Plato Road, Brixton; she opened the door and I was stunned by the thunder blast that came through the landing door leading to the first floor.
This guy moved in three days ago and, every night, this starts at about midnight.
How long does it go on for?
All night.
No!
Yes. What can I do?

My mind was racing, trying to combine the factors of the equation; this was a tricky situation.
I said: You have to be philosophical about it (remember the address).
But this is not livable.
I’ll go and talk to him (dangerous).

I rang the doorbell. No reply. I rang again and again, eventually leaving my finger on the button, until the door was flung open and “the guy” asked:
What’ the problem?
I am very sorry to disturb you. I wonder if it would be possible at all for you to turn down the music which, in my friend’s flat, down here, actually makes it impossible for us to hear each other speak.
He put his hand up, cupping his ear and said: What?
I repeated.
He said: I can’t hear you. It was true, we could barely hear each other. He said: Wait, went upstairs; the music stopped, he came down again and said: What’s the problem?
I said: I am very sorry to disturb you. I wonder if it would be possible at all for you to keep the music down, it is actually impossible in my friend’s flat for us to hear each other speak.
He said: I can’t help you there. If I haven’t got the music on, I can’t sleep. And at the end of the tape, when it stops, I wake up and I have to put it on again until I fall asleep and when I am asleep, I can’t turn off.
I said: But the problem is that my friend can’t sleep with the music on.
He said: Well, that’s her problem, isn’t it?
I said: Well, it’s now my problem.
That made him evoke a sort of shadow of a smile and I realised there was a glimpse of hope that we might be able to negotiate.
Is there any way, I said, that you could get yourself a pair of earphones so that you could have the music as loud as you like while no one else could hear it?
I couldn’t afford them, mate.
I happened to have access to audio equipment in those days. I told him I could get him some really good gear.
He said: How much are they?
I said: It wouldn't cost either of us anything. And you could keep them.

That was a done deal. He was happy. And Mademoiselle LoiEtBordure slept happily ever after. Well, until I dismantled her Felco.

 

For those in London (and possibly all over the UK?), look out of you window, there is a full moon with a HUGE green halo around it.

The halo is quite far away from it, like the rim of a giant wagon wheel, with its axis being the moon.

I’ve never seen anything like it.

 

I was in Toastmasters for two years and this would be a real no-no! Also hesitating and saying um, err, ah, etc ... nowadays that would be like, basically, and other nonsense.

 

If I weren’t concerned about being thought a snob, I would speak my mind and say ... but I won’t say it.

Mrs Lab says: Say it!

Okay. If I weren’t concerned about being thought a snob, I would speak my mind and say: What on earth are you doing listening to or watching programmes that either contain, or are sponsored by advertising?

Advertising is a scourge (une “engeance”) devised and produced by scam artists who, having parked their Porsches and Rolls-Royces under air-conditioned buildings, sit in boardrooms and cynically toil to deprive a gullible public of their hard-earned assets which they have, sometimes unwittingly, acquired through deceitful, cunning, and often subliminal advertising, that’s how vicious it is. The reason I know that is because I partly used to make my living out of associating with them; call me Judas in the woodpile! You would be perfectly entitled to ask: Que diable alliez-vous faire dans cette galère? Well, I stuck to it until the nausea became unbearable and chose instead to sit in fragrance of notre jardin ... acquired, partly, as the curate would say, through advertising.