Category: Life

It would seem that the mystery of the disappearing tadpoles has been solved. I have discovered, much to my horror that the Beast who was around at my house on the day I broke in the spit roast, not only threw up in the grid and in the garden but also in my small pond. I have always said to people that one day I would have a vomitorium in my garden, just for the days in which I re-enact the fall of empire. Well why not? I would appear to have almost everything else apart from the money and the slaves but I am working on that. I did not envisage that people would use the pond as a substitute until it was built. Sadly the tadpoles did not survive the chemical attack that was the contents of the “Beasts” stomach. My attempts to have organic pest control have for now been scuppered. There will be few if any frogs and no hedgehogs to keep the slugs and snails down this year.

After watching a few evenings of Night time spring watch, it’s so much better than the non reality TV fare on offer such as BB, I have come up with a plan to put some bird boxes in the trees at the bottom of the garden in the hope they will eat insects and things. There is already one bat flying around in the evenings but he does not seem very hungry judging by the amount of mozzies and greenfly in the garden. Hopefully a bird or two will help the ecological balance.

While performing some deadly dull domestic chores I watched a programme about the changes in Britain which featured the Thatcher years. Most people either love or hate Maggie, there does not seem to be any in between. I guess that’s what make’s me different. I don’t hate her but I am not a big fan of hers either. I was lucky enough to get out of the building and heavy industry before she destroyed it all and entered the service industry which is where I have been ever since. I think the Thatcher years were good to me. I even had the sense to reckon on mortgage repayments hitting 14% and deciding if I could afford a house before they actually did. None of this helped many of my friends though and some are still suffering from the excesses of her years in power. I guess that’s why the Tiler thinks I am more rightwing then Genghis Khan. Certainly on learning of the fate of my tadpoles he had no hesitation in branding me and the Beast the Gestapo of wildlife!

The weekend didn’t quite go to plan but it was hugely enjoyable, well the bits I remember were anyway. Friday night was a quiet night in due to work on Saturday. Saturday itself got off to a shaky start. I had planned to go and see Bo Diddley at the cavern and then onto that playground of the rich, New Brighton. As the Bo concert was cancelled due to his stroke a few weeks back, I had planned to go to New Brighton, hit a few bars including a new one that has just opened and then onto a club to see a band called Pixie Truck.  At around 5-30pm mum announced she was going out with some friends from the Mothers Union. It’s very rare that she goes out and I felt obliged to stay in until she came back home. She was picked up and taken to her destination and I waited for her to be brought home. I don’t like not being in the house when she goes to bed in case she falls down the stairs. She insists on having her bed upstairs because its “what proper people do, you go up to bed at night and you come down in the morning”. A few years ago I went to work and when I came home in the evening I noticed that the house lights were not on. I found mum collapsed in the bathroom, she had been there for around nine hours unable to get to the phone and alert anyone to her plight.

In an attempt to ensure this is never repeated I try to make a point of being in the house when she goes to bed so if anything did happen then at least aid could be summoned in minutes rather than the hours she had to endure last time. So anyway, unable to go out until mum had come home and gone to bed, I waited for her to arrive home. Finally a car pulled up and I went outside to get her. She slithered out of the car with the words “It’s ok I am not drunk, I have only been drinking champagne”.  Well she was and I managed with the aid of the Bean counter to get her upstairs and settled down for the night. Finally the Bean counter and me drove to New Brighton.

The bar itself was packed and fairly buzzing. Several drinks and hugs to all my friends who were there and a long chat with the band of whom I have known each member individually for 10 or more years. It was great seeing so many of my friends all in one place. I even managed to make friends with a Hungarian and Polish contingency. It would seem the most inviting word in the English language and also the shortest question is, Beer? The band were great and I finally managed to make it home some time around 3-30am. The following morning it was up early with a bad hangover to pick a car up from the promenade where it had been parked overnight.  The bean counters kids turned up and duly pointed my gable end wall. I have been threatening to do this for years but never got around to it so when the offer came up it would have been impolite to refuse. With so many people around me working hard it seemed only fair that I got stuck in and mowed the lawn while waiting for the beers to cool.

At around 4 pm Little Miss Sunshine and her beau turned up and the beers came out. I don’t know how many beers we went thro but I do know we drank 2 and half bottles of Bourbon. I even dragged the neighbours from both sides around. I am fairly certain they humour me but they are great people and I am lucky as well as happy to have them both as neighbours. I really count myself fortunate that I have so many good friends. So here’s to you, a really big thanks for making my weekend great.

The wettest May I can ever remember has just given way to June which looks set to be as wet as the preceding month. On the plus side the days are starting to become longer if not much warmer. All attempts to work in the garden have sadly gone the same way as my keep fit campaign and things can only get better, surely?

Mums birthday is only a couple of weeks away and my big brother is coming along to stay at my house for a couple of days. Also coming along is the driver who promises to fill me in on the events of the last 6 months. It’s hard to believe but it’s that long since I last saw him. The traveller is now back from China and is coming along this Friday to let me know how the trip went and what if any opportunities there are over there. I also managed to speak to the Tiler and he told me it was now coming to the Ozzy Autumn. Temperatures were starting to dip and it was down to the low 20’s and it was “freezing”. He and his family have acclimatised very quickly. He was telling the natives over there that in the UK if it got into the high teens people would be wearing shorts and no one believed him. If any of them are reading this I can assure you that it’s not a wind up, it really is true!

By now my pond should be full of small frogs and all ready to declare war on the slugs and snails that are devastating my flowers and fruit crops. At one point there were lots of tadpoles but they seem to have disappeared. Maybe the slugs and snails have eaten the tadpoles? Unless I can see lots of frogs within a week or two I am going to drain the pond and clean it out. So much for bio diversity and using organic methods of pest control, it’s back to the chemicals and slug pellets.

I often wonder if the pace of life will ever slow down long enough for me to actually enjoy it. Commander Riker and me were in a shop the other day buying sandwiches for our lunch and at the head of the check out queue were two cute little old ladies. Neither of them seemed to have a care in the world as they stopped to pass the time of day with the check out assistant discussing family and friends and then spending ages trying to root out change from handbags to pay for their purchases. Riker and I silently fumed in the middle of a long queue as our lunch break was being wasted away. I have nothing at all against the little old dears, indeed I have an interesting fossil in the shape of my mum to contend with at home, but…… my time is precious and I don’t want to spend it in a shopping queue. This made me think why don’t they have set times at which slow people are allowed into shops? They can spend as much of their allotted time passing the day by and browsing stopping to chat with whoever they want. Then the rest of us who have so little time can avoid the shops at certain periods and enjoy being able to run in and out with whatever we have bought in a matter of minutes.

My mum never puts anything away in the same place twice. It’s an infuriating little habit she has picked up over the years but she receives an enormous amount of pleasure trying to find things. Just trying to find a sharp knife is an adventure for her and she has all the time in which to spend finding it. Indeed it makes her day go along quite well. The impact this has on me is that much of my free time is spent needlessly trying to find things I need in a hurry. I read only recently that a store in Germany has opened up and it is for the sole and exclusive use of the elderly. They can spend as much time in there as they want with out being hassled by young mums with kids and pushchairs and men in hurry like me. I hope they open a branch up around here soon because one day at some point in time, when I have no need to rush around, I will want to shop in a place like that

It’s been such a busy week I have not had time to fill in my blog for what seems like ages so in attempt to catch up here goes. Friday quiet night in, Saturday the worst cup final I have ever seen, Chelsea and Manchester United, it was an embarrassment to our national game. I also received a phone call from the traveller that he was on his way to China. Sunday went to see Ray Davies at the Liverpool philharmonic and it was well worth going. Almost a 2 .5 hour set full of new songs and of course all the old favourites that I remember him for. Monday I went see the beast and came home with almost a ton of cut logs (see the BBQ blog). Tuesday, the Beast came to see me and we sat in the garden with a beer or two. Wednesday went shopping, tidied the house, went to a fabricators (again see BBQ blog), came home and got ready to go and watch the EUFA cup final at a friends.

Yes the EUFA cup final, ahem… Well the first goal was a handball and should not have stood the press photos clearly show this. The final whistle went 13 seconds before the close of play not taking into consideration the fact a substitution by AC Milan took place and should have added at least 30 seconds to the run of play as well as injury time during the three allocated minutes of added time. Not that I am bitter at all, the second goal by AC Milan was magic. The driver rang me up just after the match to taunt me; well every dog has his day and just wait until next year. Seriously though this season has shown that it’s now practically impossible for any English team to fight on four fronts with three domestic honours to compete for and European glory as well.

Today I took mum to hospital for another inspection and the doctors are quite happy with her progress, so much so that she has now been discharged and does not need to go back again. On another note Bo Diddley has suffered a serious stroke and it looks as though his career is over at the age of 78. I wish him well and will rue that I did not see him live and the date at the cavern club in Liverpool for next month has duly been cancelled. All in all it’s been a pretty good if not hectic week.

Todays news headlines have been about little else other than Tony Blairs decision to stand down as Prime minister or should that be presidente? I have never met the man and to the best of my knowledge he has never done me any personal harm but amid all the glowing and gushing tributes I cant help but harbour reservations about his so called legacy and I am not sorry he is going.

As he once said when he first came into power, "you cant be in office for so many years and get everything wrong".  Personally I cant see what he got right that either directly or indirectly affected me, all I have to go one is the list of things I believe he got horribly wrong. He did not put right all the wrongs the previous government had got wrong and our ship yards and heavy industries still lie in ruins. Our national border controls are an embarrassing international joke. Our prisons are overcrowded despite crime rising substantially and some judges saying they wont put prisoners away because there is no space. At least 8000 places in prisons could be created tomorrow if all the foreign criminals were deported.

Political correctness is out of all proportion as is the lack of ability to administer discipline along with any pretence that respect for anything other than gun law and violence actually exists. Add this to a disastrous war in Iraq over none existent WMD and allegations of sleaze and honours for sale with cronism and media spin. No I am certainly not sorry he is going and as soon as I am able I will be leaving this country too. Its sad because I believe myself to be fiercely patriotic and its a shame that some one has been allowed to run the country of my birth into what I believe is a state of non repair. If any of my ex pat mates are reading this, let it be a sad reminder of why you left in the first place, its even worse now than when you first departed. Like Tony Blair you are gone but not forgotten

OK, back to normal or almost! I took mum to the nearest eye hospital yesterday and she was seen by a professor no less who after scanning her eye and taking several ultra sound photographs commented, that he thought the spot behind her retina was a blood spot but could not be sure, that he would he would like to see her in six weeks time to measure the spot and see if it had grown any bigger. We are still in the lap of the gods.

After coming home and trying to relax, you need to after trying to park where I have just been, I went into the garden and spotted some old friends. For the last few years a pair of collared doves have been nesting at the bottom of my garden in an old silver birch tree. They have been coming here for quite some time each spring and raising chicks. I know its almost summer when I see them flying about. A few years ago I noticed a young collared dove chick walking about in the garden looking slightly bemused and bewildered. It was being stalked by one of my cats, Claws. Claws was a wily old male cat some 16 years of age and the lord of all he surveyed, this being to the bottom of my garden and possibly a couple of others. Claws was probably quite bemused by fresh meat walking around his turf and I expect sensed an easy snack. In the grand scheme of things I should have left things alone and left nature to its course but when the young chick had hopped onto the rubbish bin into comparitive safety and looked at me with big innocent eyes I felt I had to do something. I knocked on the tilers door, cos he bred budgies and knew a thing or two about birds, and said what would you do? He replied put it in a box with some water and some seed and let it have a good rest and it will probably be all right in the morning, Its just traumatised and tired and lost.

So I put the young bird in a box with water and seed and placed a lid on the box to stop him escaping and then put the box in the garden shed out of any harms way. The following morning the young chick looked quite perky and I took him out of the box and placed him on a table in the garden. I figured if he needs to get into the air then the best thing he could have is a bit of a runway, like an aircraft carrier, and a little bit of a drop so he can soar into the air and back to his folks in the silver birch tree. I left him to it and went inside to make some breakfast. Venturing back outside some 15 minutes later I noticed Claws sat on the back door step with a sheepish grin and some grey feathers hanging from his mouth. In an instant the awful truth dawned upon me that Claws had captured the bird and decided that it was going to be his breakfast. The feeling of guilt was compounded by the realisation that I had merely fattend up his breakfast and gave it a good nights sleep before several pounds of experienced fur, fang and claw had ripped it to shreds. I felt so angry with my cat who after all had merely done what nature had built and designed it for, that I kicked it up and down the garden and did not feed it for a couple of days in the vain hope it would get the message that I was not best pleased.

I am fairly sure that the collared dove pair have forgiven me for the last Faux paux, after all they keep soming back and if its not them then surely they would have told the new occupants that its not a bad place to live provided you can get on with the neighbours? Claws himself passed away a couple of years ago and is buried beneath a catnip plant in the garden. The doves often fly overhead and pass over Claws’ final resting place. Its almost as if they are saying "we are still here you know". Anyway its nice to see old friends and the smell of death has long gone away.

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.