This afternoon i was at Derek's house, a nice little two-bed semi just along the way. I sat down and he offered me a cup of tea. I would love one, i responded. It did not take long for the kettle to boil and there my tea was sitting in front of me, warm and inviting.
I took a sip........not Early Grey, not Twinings, but of course P.G. Tips...i raised this issue with Derek, who stated that a cup of tea is a cup of tea, and there is no difference in one or the other.
I took another sip and a sweet sugary taste met my lips and made me wince like i had just bit into a lemon. Did you stir this? i asked Derek. No, he replied.
I was not impressed, and for another ten minutes i had to suffer the mental, and physical torture of drinking a cup of tea that i could only describe as very very rubbish.
Later on while we were watching Midsomer Murders on VHS Derek asked me what was wrong with his tea. I responded by giving him a long list which roughly centred around its weakness, the lack of milk and the strength of the sugar, combined with the diminishing warmth of the tea as it got towards the end of the cup, even though I had drank it relatively quickly.
Apparently he initially poured cold water into the cup. That's not the way to make tea Derek. Making a cup of tea is an intricate art. It requires knowledge, timing, determination and the will to produce a little trinket of gold for you to enjoy in your own personal time.
Derek had lacked the timing, his knowledge could not be denied, but frankly put i think i have more determination than him in this circumstance.
When i left he seemed despondent, i was pleased that my barracking off him would have a positive effect in the future, and i could go ahead and look forward to tea at Derek's from now on.
I hope Rick Wakeman likes tea, i would judge him if he didn't.
Friday, December 05, 2008
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
James Bond
I was convinced by Derek to follow an old British tradition and go along and watch the latest James Bond film recently.
Long gone are the days when Sean Connery was marauding round our screens in the latest 1974 vintage Aston Martin, and drinking enough vodka martini to bring down a bull elephant.
The elephant will be feeling a lot more stable on his feet these days as i believe that James Bond has tamed somewhat in his last few outings.
His suits may be sharper, his cars maybe more powerful, but that sparkle in his eye is gone now. He is no longer the cheeky happy chappy he was once, now he relies on scorn and contempt to get through his films. He is also blonde, at what point in one's ageing process does their hair change from brown to blonde, and their eye colour brown to blue?
I liked James Bond, i liked him during Octopussy, i liked him during Live And Let Die, i liked him less in The World Is Not Enough but now i dislike him in his latest outing, Quality Soltan or something, I'm not entirely sure how much a sun tanning company paid to be advertised on the title of the film, but maybe that is why they filmed most of the film outside England, in places that show less English characteristic than Madagascar.
Ian Fleming would be turning in his grave at the latest installment of his famous story.
Rick Wakeman is not a fan either, i read it on his blog.
Bond is going to have to pull something out of the hat in a couple of years time.
Long gone are the days when Sean Connery was marauding round our screens in the latest 1974 vintage Aston Martin, and drinking enough vodka martini to bring down a bull elephant.
The elephant will be feeling a lot more stable on his feet these days as i believe that James Bond has tamed somewhat in his last few outings.
His suits may be sharper, his cars maybe more powerful, but that sparkle in his eye is gone now. He is no longer the cheeky happy chappy he was once, now he relies on scorn and contempt to get through his films. He is also blonde, at what point in one's ageing process does their hair change from brown to blonde, and their eye colour brown to blue?
I liked James Bond, i liked him during Octopussy, i liked him during Live And Let Die, i liked him less in The World Is Not Enough but now i dislike him in his latest outing, Quality Soltan or something, I'm not entirely sure how much a sun tanning company paid to be advertised on the title of the film, but maybe that is why they filmed most of the film outside England, in places that show less English characteristic than Madagascar.
Ian Fleming would be turning in his grave at the latest installment of his famous story.
Rick Wakeman is not a fan either, i read it on his blog.
Bond is going to have to pull something out of the hat in a couple of years time.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
A Joke From Derek
Derek came up to me the other day and he told me he had a joke for me. Please tell me i responded.
Well, he said, There are three signs of old age. The first is your loss of memory, the other two I forget....
I can't remember what happened after that......
Well, he said, There are three signs of old age. The first is your loss of memory, the other two I forget....
I can't remember what happened after that......
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Put Your Hand Up If You Hate Christmas!
Am i the only person who dislikes Christmas more every year?
Not only do the shops over-load with rubbish that people get over-hyped about and subsequently forget about in February the next year.
Christmas is an all-round phenomenon now, it begins on December the 26th and ends on December the 25th, like a more celebrated tax year. The only difference being is people look forward to Christmas, i do not know anyone that looks forward to April 5th.
It is an unnecessary reason to throw relatives that do not get on into situations that they all feel uncomfortable in. I do not get on with one of my sisters, yet every year i am compelled by the spirit of the holiday to talk to her for hours on end about her year, and why we are no longer in touch. Because you work for the Conservative Party Campaign. That's why.
I am also compelled to spend substantial amounts of money on gifts for people i never see, and do not really like. Nephew's who cause their parents no end of trouble, and Nieces that insist on having the latest make-up to go with their new fashionable shell-suits or whatever youngsters are wearing these days.
The Coca-Cola advert that brings happiness to many lives is a thorn in my side. In makes me physically ache when i hear the sleigh-bells.
If only reindeer suffered from some sort of 'Mad Cow's Disease' that left them unable to fly around the world, then the holidays would be one worth looking forward to.
The only thing i look forward to this Christmas is the prospect of Rick Wakeman paraphernalia.
Not only do the shops over-load with rubbish that people get over-hyped about and subsequently forget about in February the next year.
Christmas is an all-round phenomenon now, it begins on December the 26th and ends on December the 25th, like a more celebrated tax year. The only difference being is people look forward to Christmas, i do not know anyone that looks forward to April 5th.
It is an unnecessary reason to throw relatives that do not get on into situations that they all feel uncomfortable in. I do not get on with one of my sisters, yet every year i am compelled by the spirit of the holiday to talk to her for hours on end about her year, and why we are no longer in touch. Because you work for the Conservative Party Campaign. That's why.
I am also compelled to spend substantial amounts of money on gifts for people i never see, and do not really like. Nephew's who cause their parents no end of trouble, and Nieces that insist on having the latest make-up to go with their new fashionable shell-suits or whatever youngsters are wearing these days.
The Coca-Cola advert that brings happiness to many lives is a thorn in my side. In makes me physically ache when i hear the sleigh-bells.
If only reindeer suffered from some sort of 'Mad Cow's Disease' that left them unable to fly around the world, then the holidays would be one worth looking forward to.
The only thing i look forward to this Christmas is the prospect of Rick Wakeman paraphernalia.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
The Silent Assassin
Everywhere i look now i get a none to subtle reminder of the dangers facing people my age, and people everywhere.
The Silent Assassin lurks all around us, and this is no Hollywood film starring Steven Seagal or Jean Claude Van Damme.
No it reminds us that there is always a cloaked felon lurking over our shoulders, ready to sting us with his icy finger of Diabetes. So from now on when you see someone falling over in a supermarket, if there is someone there wearing a black coat, or similar garment, it would be ok to assume, from these posters, that they are responsible for this persons predicament.
A good number of my friends suffer from Diabetes, but they, like me, find it difficult to believe that there is a masked crusader hell bent on unleashing a lifetime of regular insulin injections and forever planning your diet and alcohol intake on the unsuspecting public.
It is an important issue, many more youngsters are suffering from Diabetes unknowingly and are powerless to stop its onset.
However comparing this to the grim reaper is perhaps a step to far, for there are many things in life worse than Diabetes, such as death.
Say No to the Silent Assassin.
Rick Wakeman would.
The Silent Assassin lurks all around us, and this is no Hollywood film starring Steven Seagal or Jean Claude Van Damme.
No it reminds us that there is always a cloaked felon lurking over our shoulders, ready to sting us with his icy finger of Diabetes. So from now on when you see someone falling over in a supermarket, if there is someone there wearing a black coat, or similar garment, it would be ok to assume, from these posters, that they are responsible for this persons predicament.
A good number of my friends suffer from Diabetes, but they, like me, find it difficult to believe that there is a masked crusader hell bent on unleashing a lifetime of regular insulin injections and forever planning your diet and alcohol intake on the unsuspecting public.
It is an important issue, many more youngsters are suffering from Diabetes unknowingly and are powerless to stop its onset.
However comparing this to the grim reaper is perhaps a step to far, for there are many things in life worse than Diabetes, such as death.
Say No to the Silent Assassin.
Rick Wakeman would.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Gurning In Goole...
This Thursday gone i had the opportunity to fulfill a lifelong ambition. Well to say it was lifelong would be incorrect, it was probably since i was about 10/11.
It was after i moved from Cirencester, Somerset, with my parents to be closer to both sets of grandparents. that i had the chance to go with my Grandmother, god rest her soul, to the National Gurning Championships in Egremont, Cumbria. It was 1958 and my Grandmother was the challenger to the thrown of one Betty Arbuckle, the three times gurning champion, local to Egremont.
It began a love affair of mine with the tradition.
The location: Goole, Yorkshire
The time: 2pm
The task: to take place in my first ever gurning championships.
Tough crowd to please it seemed, judging by the first couple of contestants, who were unmercifully heckled off the platform.
I was next. I led with the upper jaw lift, accompanied with scrunched eyes, wide nostrils and ears pointed out towards the famous twin water towers of the port.
That did not go down well.
I was ready for my next gurn, and in attempting to win over the crowd i tried to whoop them up into a frenzy with arm pumping and shouting.
Then i saw a large red object out the corner of my eye. It was not particularly large but it was in perspective to the speed it was coming at me. It was a tomato, and it hit me just under the eye.
Like the previous two contestants i was heckled off the stage, and in that moment a lifelong ambition went down the drain, which is ironically where the tomatoes ended up going.
I wonder if Rick Wakeman is any good at gurning.
I would like to think so.
It was after i moved from Cirencester, Somerset, with my parents to be closer to both sets of grandparents. that i had the chance to go with my Grandmother, god rest her soul, to the National Gurning Championships in Egremont, Cumbria. It was 1958 and my Grandmother was the challenger to the thrown of one Betty Arbuckle, the three times gurning champion, local to Egremont.
It began a love affair of mine with the tradition.
The location: Goole, Yorkshire
The time: 2pm
The task: to take place in my first ever gurning championships.
Tough crowd to please it seemed, judging by the first couple of contestants, who were unmercifully heckled off the platform.
I was next. I led with the upper jaw lift, accompanied with scrunched eyes, wide nostrils and ears pointed out towards the famous twin water towers of the port.
That did not go down well.
I was ready for my next gurn, and in attempting to win over the crowd i tried to whoop them up into a frenzy with arm pumping and shouting.
Then i saw a large red object out the corner of my eye. It was not particularly large but it was in perspective to the speed it was coming at me. It was a tomato, and it hit me just under the eye.
Like the previous two contestants i was heckled off the stage, and in that moment a lifelong ambition went down the drain, which is ironically where the tomatoes ended up going.
I wonder if Rick Wakeman is any good at gurning.
I would like to think so.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
What Has Happened To Music?
This morning i was walking down Scunthorpe high street when i looked in a shop, his masters voice, the one with the dog and the grammar phone, not sure if it's called that anymore. Anyway I decided to see if there were any old 1970s prog-rock albums on sale, as i only had £7.47 left in my pocket after i spent £15 on new jumpers at the 'Edinburgh Woollen Mill'.
I was looking more specifically for 'Selling England by the Pound' by Genesis, as it is the only vinyl of their back catalogue i do not own.
To my dismay there were no vinyl’s.
I was walking round the shop for twenty minutes before i found someone who would talk to me, and trying to understand their youthful slang words, the only thing i could gauge was that there was no longer vinyl on sale in the store. Not owning a machine that plays compact discs i spent a further twenty minutes looking round to see if there was anything else to my taste, as i was due to meet Derek for a pint in the harp and crown at noon.
Now what the hell has happened to music in the last decade. All i could see was bands with funny masks on that sang about death, dolled up to the eyeballs twenty something’s wearing very little clothing on posters, it's November for Christ’s sake they must have been freezing.
I saw a disgraceful overuse of the racist word beginning with 'n' but was informed by a passer-by who heard my rumblings that this was in fact a hit band in the 1990's who possessed a large amount of attitude.
I put on some headphones, because the wall next to them was advertising free music and was greeted with a choice of ten different bands on a compilation disc that all began with the word 'the'.
Now is it me or does 'the Bravery' not make grammatical sense. And don't even get me started on the 'Black Kids', which is a little bit of false advertising.
With only ten minutes left i decided to go and ask behind the counter for any prog-rock Paraphernalia. I left the store with £5.47 left in my pocket and a large mug with a picture of the band 'Gong' on the side.
For the first time in a long time i left a store quite content with my purchase.
If only they had some Rick Wakeman memorabilia, then i wouldn't have been able to afford that pint with Derek.
I was looking more specifically for 'Selling England by the Pound' by Genesis, as it is the only vinyl of their back catalogue i do not own.
To my dismay there were no vinyl’s.
I was walking round the shop for twenty minutes before i found someone who would talk to me, and trying to understand their youthful slang words, the only thing i could gauge was that there was no longer vinyl on sale in the store. Not owning a machine that plays compact discs i spent a further twenty minutes looking round to see if there was anything else to my taste, as i was due to meet Derek for a pint in the harp and crown at noon.
Now what the hell has happened to music in the last decade. All i could see was bands with funny masks on that sang about death, dolled up to the eyeballs twenty something’s wearing very little clothing on posters, it's November for Christ’s sake they must have been freezing.
I saw a disgraceful overuse of the racist word beginning with 'n' but was informed by a passer-by who heard my rumblings that this was in fact a hit band in the 1990's who possessed a large amount of attitude.
I put on some headphones, because the wall next to them was advertising free music and was greeted with a choice of ten different bands on a compilation disc that all began with the word 'the'.
Now is it me or does 'the Bravery' not make grammatical sense. And don't even get me started on the 'Black Kids', which is a little bit of false advertising.
With only ten minutes left i decided to go and ask behind the counter for any prog-rock Paraphernalia. I left the store with £5.47 left in my pocket and a large mug with a picture of the band 'Gong' on the side.
For the first time in a long time i left a store quite content with my purchase.
If only they had some Rick Wakeman memorabilia, then i wouldn't have been able to afford that pint with Derek.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
My Nemesis, The Broken Pavement
Walking out of my house and down the road, a broken piece of pavement has been an increasing risk to me over the last couple of weeks.It got cracked when a stray Kia Sedona travelling down my street, managed to flip onto the path while attempting to escape local police, in an incident which made the front page of the Scunthorpe Telegraph.
I know of this Kia because in my later years of being a council employed traffic warden, I had to deal with this car's despicable parking on many occasions, and on many of these occasions it would provoke an argument.
This pavement has not only been the cause of one trip to hospital, after i tripped and managed to sprain a muscle in my lower back muscles, but has also been the cause of the use of nearly two boxes of plasters, where i have cut my ankles on the spiky concrete.
Taking more initiative than the council i decided to take action myself.
After walking to a local DIY store i bought myself some concrete mix and rented a cement mixer from a friend of mine, who after letting off of a parking fine, owed me a favour.
According to the council, private personal reconstruction of a public road is illegal.
Not only was i not allowed to mend the road, i have since cut my ankle a further three times.
I hate that piece of pavement nearly as much as the showbiz marriage between Vanessa Feltz and that ghastly Older Brother programme at the turn of the century.
That woman makes my blood boil.
I wish Rick Wakeman could shut her up.
I know of this Kia because in my later years of being a council employed traffic warden, I had to deal with this car's despicable parking on many occasions, and on many of these occasions it would provoke an argument.
This pavement has not only been the cause of one trip to hospital, after i tripped and managed to sprain a muscle in my lower back muscles, but has also been the cause of the use of nearly two boxes of plasters, where i have cut my ankles on the spiky concrete.
Taking more initiative than the council i decided to take action myself.
After walking to a local DIY store i bought myself some concrete mix and rented a cement mixer from a friend of mine, who after letting off of a parking fine, owed me a favour.
According to the council, private personal reconstruction of a public road is illegal.
Not only was i not allowed to mend the road, i have since cut my ankle a further three times.
I hate that piece of pavement nearly as much as the showbiz marriage between Vanessa Feltz and that ghastly Older Brother programme at the turn of the century.
That woman makes my blood boil.
I wish Rick Wakeman could shut her up.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
A Trip To Sunny Skegness.
It was an early start to the day.8:14am when we left on the coach from the bus station.
Destination. Skegness.
Living only an hour and a half as the crow flies I thought this the perfect time to make my first ever trip to the sunny eastern coast of Lincolnshire.
Derek and all his working men’s club friends accompanied me, we had a good time on the coach playing card games on the way down for old coins now taken out of circulation for the royal mint.
We arrived in Skegness with me £2.12 to the better of unusable coins.
I had great reports of Skegness from my cousin Judith when she took her kids along, 15 years ago.
But it seems age and decay have caught up with the town, for the first thing i say is an old hollowed out building, reminiscing something one would see in an episode of the hit 1990's show 'London's Burning'. I wonder why they took it off the air?
The second thing i saw was a young man ran up to an old lady, push her onto the ground, take her purse and run off.
The third thing i saw was Derek chasing after this man like a young Ben Johnson on performance enhancing drugs.
The fourth thing i remember, after many local residents rushing past me to try and apprehend the young man, was Derek being ushered into a police car, after catching the man, and proceeding to punch him a number of times in the stomach.
Not a great start to the day.
I thought it could only get better from here on in.
I was mistaken.
After a couple of hours playing on the arcade machine for an old Vhs of the 1994 British Academy Television Awards. The £8.50 i spent on the machine trying to win the tape would probably allowed me to purchase it four times over.
When i walked onto the beach i saw one of the saddest sights i have ever seen.
The years of having to transport around overweight 12 year olds had obviously taken its time on a poor and sad looking donkey.
He looked at me with despondent, despairing and pity-seeking eyes.
Now that was one sad donkey.
I took time out of my busy afternoon schedule and tried to comfort the donkey. He seemed lonely and isolated. I found the owner, the man who ran the beach donkey trekking business to have a word with him about the state he was keeping this animal in.
I have mentioned before that animals are not my cup of tea, but cruelty is another matter.
The next thing i remember, i was being escorted into a police riot van. The man, whose name i later found out to be Bill, was lay stricken on the pavement next to a Mr Whippy ice cream van, with a bruise on his cheek and a little bit of blood coming out his nose.
The police let me off with a warning because it was my first conviction.
I have since donated £350 to the donkey trekking service and pleaded with them to look after the donkey better.
I'm thinking about contacting Rick Wakeman, and seeing if he can help the donkey.
That was a sad donkey.
Destination. Skegness.
Living only an hour and a half as the crow flies I thought this the perfect time to make my first ever trip to the sunny eastern coast of Lincolnshire.
Derek and all his working men’s club friends accompanied me, we had a good time on the coach playing card games on the way down for old coins now taken out of circulation for the royal mint.
We arrived in Skegness with me £2.12 to the better of unusable coins.
I had great reports of Skegness from my cousin Judith when she took her kids along, 15 years ago.
But it seems age and decay have caught up with the town, for the first thing i say is an old hollowed out building, reminiscing something one would see in an episode of the hit 1990's show 'London's Burning'. I wonder why they took it off the air?
The second thing i saw was a young man ran up to an old lady, push her onto the ground, take her purse and run off.
The third thing i saw was Derek chasing after this man like a young Ben Johnson on performance enhancing drugs.
The fourth thing i remember, after many local residents rushing past me to try and apprehend the young man, was Derek being ushered into a police car, after catching the man, and proceeding to punch him a number of times in the stomach.
Not a great start to the day.
I thought it could only get better from here on in.
I was mistaken.
After a couple of hours playing on the arcade machine for an old Vhs of the 1994 British Academy Television Awards. The £8.50 i spent on the machine trying to win the tape would probably allowed me to purchase it four times over.
When i walked onto the beach i saw one of the saddest sights i have ever seen.
The years of having to transport around overweight 12 year olds had obviously taken its time on a poor and sad looking donkey.
He looked at me with despondent, despairing and pity-seeking eyes.
Now that was one sad donkey.
I took time out of my busy afternoon schedule and tried to comfort the donkey. He seemed lonely and isolated. I found the owner, the man who ran the beach donkey trekking business to have a word with him about the state he was keeping this animal in.
I have mentioned before that animals are not my cup of tea, but cruelty is another matter.
The next thing i remember, i was being escorted into a police riot van. The man, whose name i later found out to be Bill, was lay stricken on the pavement next to a Mr Whippy ice cream van, with a bruise on his cheek and a little bit of blood coming out his nose.
The police let me off with a warning because it was my first conviction.
I have since donated £350 to the donkey trekking service and pleaded with them to look after the donkey better.
I'm thinking about contacting Rick Wakeman, and seeing if he can help the donkey.
That was a sad donkey.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Daylight Savings Time...
I got up yesterday morning eagerly anticipating another weekly instalment of Sunday Life. I sat down in my TV chair at precisely 9:56am hoping to catch a little snippet of what was to come later on in the morning on countryfile.
Little did I know, and little did I expect, to be watching that dour man Andrew Marr previewing what to expect on his show.
I was confused.
At first the anticipation that they might have cancelled Sunday Life left me sweating profusely.
Then, after a quick glance at my clock on the wall, displaying 10:01, i decided to check the pages on the television that sometimes come up when i accidentally click a button on the remote. Telefax, or something like that.
I did not know which button to press, and in the search for this elusive button i managed to change the sound, the picture brightness, and set an alarm for a 3pm show on channel five which to my disgust was a stupid film about a man without a face.
After three minutes of random button pressing i found the button i was looking for.
The black screen flashed up and in the corner it read 09:03.
I was confused.
It was only then that i remembered Derek reminding me to turn my clocks back because of daylight savings.
While sitting in my chair, debating with myself what to do for the next hour i fell asleep again.
I woke up at 11:58.
I had missed both Sunday Life and Countryfile.
Daylight Savings?I lost my entire morning thanks to this phenomenon.
I hate it.
Unfortunately Rick Wakeman can't do anything about it.
Little did I know, and little did I expect, to be watching that dour man Andrew Marr previewing what to expect on his show.
I was confused.
At first the anticipation that they might have cancelled Sunday Life left me sweating profusely.
Then, after a quick glance at my clock on the wall, displaying 10:01, i decided to check the pages on the television that sometimes come up when i accidentally click a button on the remote. Telefax, or something like that.
I did not know which button to press, and in the search for this elusive button i managed to change the sound, the picture brightness, and set an alarm for a 3pm show on channel five which to my disgust was a stupid film about a man without a face.
After three minutes of random button pressing i found the button i was looking for.
The black screen flashed up and in the corner it read 09:03.
I was confused.
It was only then that i remembered Derek reminding me to turn my clocks back because of daylight savings.
While sitting in my chair, debating with myself what to do for the next hour i fell asleep again.
I woke up at 11:58.
I had missed both Sunday Life and Countryfile.
Daylight Savings?I lost my entire morning thanks to this phenomenon.
I hate it.
Unfortunately Rick Wakeman can't do anything about it.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Another Fine Saturday Evening...
Today, without the allure of Newsnight and Jeremy Paxman to keep me company, i decided to go out for the evening with my close friend Derek.
Derek is a good man, he has not had a lot of luck in his life.
He is currently undergoing extensive physiotherapy at Scunthorpe General Hospital after tearing one of his ankle ligaments, having been knocked over by a woman with a pushchair while exiting a train.
He will moan forever about the size of push-chairs, and how the woman managed to hold up a long line of passengers waiting to leave the train just to tend to her crying baby's nappy rash.
We decided after much deliberation to go to our local for a few drinks.
The Harp and Crown is a nice little pub, it's homely and most of the time it isn’t over-run with no good youngsters frolicking and swearing every other word.
After my first pint of Mansfield Original Bitter, I was distracted by not a man over-exaggerating and chuntering over my right shoulder.
This was not a man in the pub.
This was coming from the television screen.
I saw a middle aged Caucasian man and his stunningly attractive token side kick exclaiming massive breaking news in the football world.
the only breaking news i would be interested in the football world is if Gordon Brown was to turn round and announce a ban on all professional football tomorrow.
However unlikely this is, i still harbour hope, that one day, football will become so embroiled in its own sensationalism that it will literally implode.
Apparently a man a little older than myself had sold himself to a team called the Hot Spurs for over £5 million pound.
Well if he can do it then why cant i?
Tomorrow as soon as i get up I’m going to find out who my closest football club is and offer them my services for half that.
I am younger than this man and can only assume that this would be an offer too good to refuse.
I just hope they don't ask me to entertain any of these prima-donna 'professional athletes' at my home. I wouldn't want them getting all that mud on my living room carpet.
I just hope Rick Wakeman can keep them away.
Derek is a good man, he has not had a lot of luck in his life.
He is currently undergoing extensive physiotherapy at Scunthorpe General Hospital after tearing one of his ankle ligaments, having been knocked over by a woman with a pushchair while exiting a train.
He will moan forever about the size of push-chairs, and how the woman managed to hold up a long line of passengers waiting to leave the train just to tend to her crying baby's nappy rash.
We decided after much deliberation to go to our local for a few drinks.
The Harp and Crown is a nice little pub, it's homely and most of the time it isn’t over-run with no good youngsters frolicking and swearing every other word.
After my first pint of Mansfield Original Bitter, I was distracted by not a man over-exaggerating and chuntering over my right shoulder.
This was not a man in the pub.
This was coming from the television screen.
I saw a middle aged Caucasian man and his stunningly attractive token side kick exclaiming massive breaking news in the football world.
the only breaking news i would be interested in the football world is if Gordon Brown was to turn round and announce a ban on all professional football tomorrow.
However unlikely this is, i still harbour hope, that one day, football will become so embroiled in its own sensationalism that it will literally implode.
Apparently a man a little older than myself had sold himself to a team called the Hot Spurs for over £5 million pound.
Well if he can do it then why cant i?
Tomorrow as soon as i get up I’m going to find out who my closest football club is and offer them my services for half that.
I am younger than this man and can only assume that this would be an offer too good to refuse.
I just hope they don't ask me to entertain any of these prima-donna 'professional athletes' at my home. I wouldn't want them getting all that mud on my living room carpet.
I just hope Rick Wakeman can keep them away.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Why Aren't There Any Animals Around When You Need Them?
Today, while preparing a fresh salad to accompany my lasagne for dinner, I dropped a third of a bag of Florette Crispy Salad, specifically the extra 33% that made the salad such an appealing purchase.
While I was attempting to sweep up this unholy mess on the kitchen floor, my mind turned to rabbits, and how if a rabbit was here then he, or even she, could do the work for me, nibbling at the green waste site like a badger with a freshly issued rubbish bag.
I can't help but wonder about the use of domestic or wild animals, and god's supposed intentions when he created them.
For when the time comes and I required an animal to help with my task, there was none to be seen.
However when the time comes when an animal is most unwelcome, it seems the pesky rodent is far too willing to nibble on the piece cheddar I had left out on the side ready for my sandwich, or ready to sniff at my private parts while I am travelling the short distance to Doncaster on the train to visit my cousin Judith.
Animals are not only an unwelcome addition to my sister, Madge's family, who’s grandchildren’s pet guinea pigs have all but demolished her new lounge furniture, but an unwelcome appearance in society as a whole.
I find all they do is soil your home and vegetable patches, mocking their supposed position as the friendly, fluffy, playful companion.
Never will you find a dastardly dog or a cunning cat in my home.
I just hope Rick Wakeman can keep them away.
While I was attempting to sweep up this unholy mess on the kitchen floor, my mind turned to rabbits, and how if a rabbit was here then he, or even she, could do the work for me, nibbling at the green waste site like a badger with a freshly issued rubbish bag.
I can't help but wonder about the use of domestic or wild animals, and god's supposed intentions when he created them.
For when the time comes and I required an animal to help with my task, there was none to be seen.
However when the time comes when an animal is most unwelcome, it seems the pesky rodent is far too willing to nibble on the piece cheddar I had left out on the side ready for my sandwich, or ready to sniff at my private parts while I am travelling the short distance to Doncaster on the train to visit my cousin Judith.
Animals are not only an unwelcome addition to my sister, Madge's family, who’s grandchildren’s pet guinea pigs have all but demolished her new lounge furniture, but an unwelcome appearance in society as a whole.
I find all they do is soil your home and vegetable patches, mocking their supposed position as the friendly, fluffy, playful companion.
Never will you find a dastardly dog or a cunning cat in my home.
I just hope Rick Wakeman can keep them away.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Welcome To Scunthorpe, My Name Is Bernard.
Good evening people of the internet. My name is Bernard Grimshaw. I am over 60 years old. I reside in the North Lincolnshire town of Scunthorpe, having been born in Cirencester, Gloucestershire. Quite a step down in the world. You will learn many things about my life in the coming days, weeks and months. And I think you will like listening to what I have to say.
If you wish to know a little about me then here are some of my likes and dislikes.
Likes...
If you wish to know a little about me then here are some of my likes and dislikes.
Likes...
- I collect rare vinyl records, particularly of Genesis, Yes, and more specifically anything that involves the fabulous Rick Wakeman.
- I enjoy Newsnight, with a good ale in my hand.
- I have a large array of hi-tec sports clothing, which I never wear, but feel too close an affinity to it to throw away.
Dislikes...
- Vanessa Feltz
- Popular Music, Yobs and chain pubs
- Channel Five
- My Arthritic lower back
- Innovation
Over the coming posts I will be venting my fury on anything and everything, ranging from professional sports, trains, badly kept pedestrian paths and Plumbers.
For now. Bernard.
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