Author: Smokehouse

Well mum is finally home and after two weeks spent running back and forth between the hospital and various clinics, I feel its almost safe to say the operation has been a success. The Cataract was sucessfully removed and a lens implant went well and her vision is now normal for some one fo her age. There now follows up to six weeks of intensive aftercare to ensure that no infection takes place before we can safely say we are out of the woods.

Throughout the last fortnight almost everything has been on hold or standby including the keep fit and any work on the house or garden. Fortunately I have many good friends who have helped out with either practical help or moral support. I would like to take this oportunity to thank you all (you know who you are) and to let everyone know normal service will be resumed or at least when things are almost back to normal asap.

Mum went into hospital on Thursday morning for her cataract removal and lens implant. The operation was a success and we hope she will be coming home sometime on Sunday. A lot of work was carried out on the garden and I managed to remove and replace my ageing pond and generally tidy up. It may be Easter but it has been busy busy busy. To clebrate the success of the operation and hopefully end months of worry all round, I cracked open a beer and sparked up the chimnea.

As the flames grew marking the start of the season, I opened a bottle of Buffalo Trace Bourbon. Halfway through the bottle I realised it was misnamed and should of been called Rampant Wildebeest, this stuff has a kick! All was going well until the chimnea either through metal fatigue or sheer boredom collapsed. Blazing coals scattered around the patio area under some glowing bits of metal. It was far too hot to attempt to move them and all I could do was watch. Around ten minutes or so later a serious of loud bangs occured and it was at this point I remembered concrete explodes when heated. My patio was exploding before my eyes. There was not much I could do except to watch until the fire went down and eventually expired.

I got up this morning remembering the Rampant Wildebeest and went into the garden to survey the damage and it was not as bad as it first appeared. The chimnea can be patched up as the cast iron bits are still intact. But finally we have Froth and Flames……….

 

After being in such a good mood on Friday evening I set about with gusto my exercise programme on the Saturday morning just after I had managed to obtain tickets to see Rush at the MEN in October. Full of enthusiasm I set about honing this lumpen body into the Lean Mean Knobbing machine of my desires. The first few sit ups were quite easy and painless so I did a few more, I mean how hard can this be? After a third set I began to feel a slight twinge in my abdomen but after all no pain no gain right? After a final fourth set and a positive glow in my stomach muscles I decided to call it a day. The day sorta came and went with various friends passing by and I eventually went to bed feeling quite pleased with myself. It was shortly after I had retired that it became obvious something was not right. It was impossible for me to lay in bed in any position for more than a few moments before the most excrutiating pains hit me. I spent some time in the bathroom retching and then tried to sleep but could not. talk about feel the burn I was ready to call out the damn fire brigade, my stomach was on fire. It was about 9am when I finally managed to drift off only to wake a few hours later completely unable to move. I stayed there until 7am on the Monday morning.

Monday was a bit of a blur as all I could concentrate on was the pain in my stomach. By 9pm I had had enough and hit the painkillers and various bits and pieces out of my extensive medical cabinet. Washing these down with a Cider or two made all the pains go and by midnight I actually began to feel more like my old self, however I was now wide awake. I decided there and then that the Lean Mean Knobbing machine would have to wait and for now it would be Cute and Cuddly Knobbing machine! During this period of reflection I started watching a programme about finding Middle England.

We have all heard of Middle England, the tabloid press tell us everyday about Middle England and it’s Middle Englanders. Just the phrase Middle England has me thinking of some quiet sleepy little Hamlet in the shires with a postcard duck pond complete with obligatory ducks flapping about a couple of geese stopping over and maybe a swan or two swimmingly serenely by. Just by the duck pond is a well maintained bowling green where ladies and gentlemen can be seen dressed in immaculately creased whites and well blancoed plimsolls with nothing more than the “Clack” of woods gently cannoning into each other to disturb the peace. In the distance can be heard the sound of leather crashing off willow and the occasionaly shout of “four” and gentle applause from the cricket ground. Not to be outdone is the even more genteel sound of wooden balls being gently tapped by wooden mallets on the croquet lawn.

Sandwhiched in between “Ye Olde Tea Shoppe” and the “Food Emporium” is the very heart of Middle England, The Public House, invariably named after some king or animals head but always containing chaps quaffing pints of the landlords best foaming beer and ladies straight from the womens institute with their glasses of sherry or a Pimms no 1 cocktail. There is always a fleet of Morgans in the car park supplemented by the odd Bently or two and maybe the occasional vintage Roller. Nothing so common or tasteless as a Ferrari or BMW or one of those modern post 1962 Rollers which are so vulgar even pop stars and heaven fordid lottery winners buy them.

No, in Middle England you wont find a shell suit or a copy of the Daily Star, there are no stretch limo’s or the like with blacked out windows and definitely no Bargain Booze or Drugstore. Turns out this place which is predominantly Anglo Saxon does not actually exist other than in the minds of people who yearn for a distorted view of the past. It is of course a charade kept up by the press and government to pigeon whole a section of society and is predominantly used to characterise the middle classes. It is often used as a derogatory term for people who actually like to work for a living and abhore the shame of an asbo instead of wearing them like a badge of honour and sell crack on street corners. Its a pity really because it sounds like a really nice place to me. Something akin to Shangrila, you know its there you just dont know where but you hope to find it one day.

In stark contrast to the beginning of the week the weather has been awful, not cold, no snow just dark, grey and miserable. Inspiration has just seeped away over the last few days. Its not as though it has been spirit crushing like the depths of winter, but imagine if you will that you have a bucket and that bucket is full of hope and inspiration however it has a leak. Try as I might I cant fill the bucket back up again faster than it it is leaking away. My good friend and work colleague, “Commander Riker” and me have tried all week to lift our spirits but it has not been happening. Worse still is the news from the BBC that the weather is not going to get any better over this coming weekend.

Anyway I have written out a few birthday cards and popped them in the post. One is for Commander Riker and the other is for an ex colleague and another close friend “Legs”, so called because she has legs that go all the way up there……….. This evening me and the beancounter are off to see the Beast and his wife, yes she has forgiven me for the late night last week, Phew…. That is one of the good things that have happened this week, another is that I managed to purchase tickets to go and see “Whole Lotta Led” in a few weeks time and tomorrow morning tickets go on sale for a series of Rush concerts around the country. I am hopeful of getting my hands on a pair of them. I have missed out on Hyde Park Calling this year because it clashes with family commitments. A pity really because I dont think I will have the opportunity to see Aerosmith again and it would have my first chance to see Peter Gabriel headline at an outdoor venue. But on the plus side I have managed to get tickets for Bo Diddley and the beancounter has got me tickets to see Ray Davis. It would appear that this year is going to be a musical year which makes up for my inability to go away for more than a night at a time.

The exercises are on hold and the push bike is still in the shed just waiting for the first rays of sunlight to emerge. Things will definitely pick up with some sunshine and some good music. I often think how different things would have been if I had of been born into the Adams family and been able to enjoy moonbathing.

The aches and pains have subsided and the garden is actually looking pretty good, all in all I am quite proud of myself for the amount I have achieved in such a short time. Its funny how the sound of summer differs from the sound of winter. On the first sunny day of spring there is the almost simultaneous high pitched sound of dozens of electric mowers starting up. Then there is the sound of people cranking two and four stroke engines with much muttering and cursing as they try and coax some life into small bore petrol engines that have been laid up for almost six months. To me that is one of the funnier sounds of spring and summer, the crank, the put put put, then silence followed firstly by curses, questions, recriminations, then threats.

For example, “Oh shit its not starting, did you put any petrol in this thing?, Its your fault you should have cleaned it before it was put away last year” and “well it wasnt me who used it last” and finally, “You bastard, if you dont start, your going to the fucking scrapheap”.  Then there is the altogether different sound of cogs and chains meshings as the carbon neutral mob get their “green” push and cylinder mowers out. You can almost hear the smugness oozing out of every pore. It goes along with the sentence followed shortly after of ” I say darling lets get the cycles out and go for a ride along the prom”. This is in stark contrast to others who are popping tinnies, bottles or muttering “Comon, shove the kids into the four by four and lets go for a drive in the country”. In general though its not long before the air is filled with the smell of newly mown grass followed by the tradional sound of bottle tops being popped.

It was while I was pondering such thoughts that I realised my antipodean friends, the Tiler, the Printer and others would be turning the clocks back and preparing for Autumn down under as their own summer finishes. Would they be emptying swiming pools and getting fleecy thermal underwear out as the weather turns to a bitter 18c or less? Would they be worrying if they had enough lagging to prevent burst pipes this year? Somehow I doubt it but here’s to absent friends, you are sorely missed and may we all meet up again one day soon.

Well… a few mates turned up on Saturday afternoon as planned and we had a few drinks before moving onto a club to see my mates band make their debut. Five of us set off and arrived at the club at around 11-30pm. After numerous hellos, hugs and air kisses we sat down and watched the band who were spectacular and after numerous beers we said our goodbyes and arrived back at my house at around 4-30am (The clocks had gone forward by this time) Being in party spirit we carried on drinking until Little Miss Sunshine collapsed on the Beancounters (my long suffering other half) ample bosom. We made her comfortable on the couch (see photo in gallery) and carried on drinking. That was until around about 7am when the beancounter went to bed and I passed out. The decorator woke up miss Sunshine and got her home in a taxi.

Sunday morning came and at around 12 midday I tried to get out of bed. My legs didnt work, my back would not move and a nation of tin mining dwarves had moved into the place where my brain had previously lived. My prediction that I would feel awful after a day spent in the garden was becoming all too true. I decided it would be better for everyone if I stayed put and so I did until 7am this morning when the horrible realisation that it was time to get up get and go to work. It was at this point I discovered my hot water and central heating boiler had packed in and after a phone call to the repair people I was given the grave news it was too old to repair and I would have to get a new one. I am still in shock at this news, probably because the cost is about three time the price I had expected for a new one, but I have decided I have to get another one and now its just a matter of who can fit one the quickest.

It was a great weekend but I am still trying to fathom out what hit me!

What a difference a few rays of sunshine make! I woke up this morning and pulled the curtains back to see the sun shining and immediately felt like doing something. Plans to get the push bike out and start a keep fit plan, get into the garden and tidy it up, spring clean the house, the possibilities almost seemed endless. I got into the garden and started work and after what seemd like 5 minutes discovered the day had gone. Standing back to admire my handiwork is when I first noticed the twinges in my back. The awful truth that I am no longer a young or very fit man set in. Welcome to middle age….

It was after a few beers to cheer myself up that i decided I was not going to give in gracefully to the advancing years. Oh no not me, I am going to grow old disgracefuly. I accept that I am no longer going to be strutting my stuff on the beach in shorts and sporting a six pack to die for, I know I am not going to get another motor bike and relive my youth blazing down the highways and byways of the UK leaving strips of rubber on the tarmac. I accept I will never be a rock God and my collection of guitars has now become my pension fund.

But……… The clocks go forward in a few short hours, British Sumer Time will soon be here and I am going to get fit. Well fitter than I am and that cant be too hard can it? I suspect that after a few more beers and trip to see my mates new band make their debut this evening will have me waking up unable to get out of bed or walk. But that is a challenge and I am determined to hone this ageing and creaking body into a lean mean knobbing machine. Well after settling back to watch England play Israel and knocking back another beer or may even a few more beers at least……

I had never heard of blog spiders till I started this blogroll and apparently I have to place some line of text in a posting somewhere for technoratis spider to see it. What will this achieve I have no idea but here goes.

Blog Spiders? more like Ziggy Stardust and the spiders from mars