Category: Life

It is April 8^th and the elections are well and truly over. I have resisted posting anything about the elections over the last few weeks but with the results in and nothing like them having happened for over forty years it is time to comment. To refresh the memories of any one who does not remember the last hung parliament, it was a total and embarrassing disaster. This is only the fourth occasion in almost 130 years that we have had a hung parliament, the previous ones being in 1885, 1929 and 1974 None of them lasted very long and in each case the country was in a worse state than before that particular Governing body took over.

It has only taken two days since the results came in to see that sterling has fallen and is likely to continue to do so and government bonds and gilts have fallen through the floor. The country is effectively being run by bankers, financial institutions and money speculators. Looking at our continental neighbours such as Greece shows what may happen if a strong government is not in place soon.

What has been heartening is the turnout for the elections with many young people attempting to vote for the first time. I say attempting to vote because in a bid to keep expenses down the polling stations did not have enough officers in them and many were short on polling booths. This had the laughable (sadly) result of some stations closing at 10pm, when they are legally required to do so, and there still being queues of people who could not get in to vote. At my own polling station there were queues such as I have never seen before. If this had of happened in some third world country the UK would have been condemning the legitimacy of the election and the competency of the country involved.

For all the wisdom of the political pundits no one can say for sure what will really happen in the short term to the UK, but history shows there will be another election within 12 months. In the meantime there will be the usual horse trading between politicians desperate to either gain or cling onto power. There will be favours promised for favours to be given and no one will really be better off in the long run. If it was not so serious it would be funny. Sad isn’t it?

 

Work on Chez Ghastanbury continues apace with the front windows having had a first coat of paint applied this week. The greenhouse is brimming with seedlings and plants and the ongoing saga of the shed roof enters another phase with the pointing on the brickwork walls nearing completion. Just the weatherboards and the guttering to go up and that will be another job from the long list of items on my task list that can be crossed off.

It has helped that the weather has changed for the better, but it is not as warm as it looks. Sadly some of the plants, mainly herbs, have died off due to the cold weather of an evening. You would think I knew better by this stage in my life but I keep making the same mistakes year after year.

One mistake I won’t be making again is to believe that I could go on a bouncy castle. The Animal recently held a birthday bash for his eldest daughter daughters 18^th birthday.  As well as plenty of liquid refreshment there was the obligatory Barbie and a bouncy castle. After a few large Bourbons supplied and poured by Roger Moor I decided it would be a good idea to have a go on the bouncy castle. I clambered on and was sent crashing to the floor by some two year old flying from one side to the next. It would seem from reports given to me days later that I subsequently flattened another five year old as I collapsed. I still have my teeth although they are a little loose but the blood will never come out of my shirt. As ever it was fabulous day and evening. See photos.

An event that I should have written about and posted at the time but did not was Ted Magnums 30^th birthday.  Yes my riding companion has now reached the dizzying age of 30. To celebrate he came up with the idea of a men only wood and whiskey night in the grounds of Tedstock. The plan was to have a bonfire with a Dutch oven hanging over it containing some stew or chilli and for the boys to sit around drinking bourbon and talking bollocks all night. At the end of the night those who wanted to would camp within the grounds.

All went well until the food was served and we noticed some crunchy bits as we ate. It appears that Dutch ovens require seasoning and breaking in before use but no one had read the instructions. Consequently the food had stuck to the bottom of the pot and had welded itself to the sides. No matter, it tasted great although it could have been the copious quantities of alcohol numbing the taste buds. As usual a fire of Nero proportions was lit and fuelled by wood from nearby trees. Needless to say Ted has less pruning to do this year than last!

After a wonderful evening in which Ted had imbibed just a little more than he was capable of holding he retired to bed feeling poorly and with the world spinning. Us hardier types chose to sleep in the encampment of tents that had been assembled for the partying masses. There were only three of us left and still standing! After my experience at Cropton a few weeks prior I had bought new sleeping gear for my tent and I can report that I at least was toasty warm all night. Unlike one of the lads who was too caned to find a sleeping bag and woke up in the early hours of the morning freezing and went home.

As ever the experience with the bouncy castle, my tyres, plants dying because I put them out too early and sleeping rough at my age show there is no fool like an old fool.

 

Yes I know it has been some time since my last post, however I can assure you that I am not dead! Indeed I have either been too busy or so overwhelmed that I have not found the time to write which really defeats the object of this blog. The clocks went forward a few weeks ago and spring is finally in the air with the temperatures on the way up and the sun is shining at long last. It is all so different from the last time I made an entry on these pages.

Over the years there have been so many revelations and changes that have just changed the way I view everything I ever used to know and believe in. For example I took two weeks holiday to make some repairs and improvements on the outside of the house and it rained every single day. Not a single job was completed although some were started and called off when the rains fell. As the Traveller remarked, “the clocks may have gone forward but all it means is another hour of grey skies in the evenings”. During periods of sitting there feeling down and growing ever more depressed, only those who suffer from SAD or live with some one who has it can truly appreciate how much the last few weeks have got to me, The traveller and myself attempted to put the world to rights over a few beers. This is when he dropped the bombshell.

It would appear that Her Majesties Warships no longer carry a ships cat. Now I have always understood since I was a little boy that ships had cats to keep the rats down. It was always an essential part of the ships crew and second in importance only to the Captain himself, but it seems they have not been around since Nelsons day. I knew that the rum ration had been phased out and I can sort of understand that. I mean you really don’t want a boatload of pissed up Matelots playing around with nuclear warheads. Oh no!  But for Gods sake come on, the ships cat? It is PC and elf’n’safety gone mad.

I discovered just how much the world has changed when I recently went swimming with the Prince Of Darkness. When I first went swimming many years ago the men went into one room to get changed and the ladies went into another. Roll forward 40 years and we now have communal changing rooms. All well and good you may think but no one told me. Neither did they tell me that the showers are also communal.

I only discovered this when standing in the shower and rinsing my trunks out, as me and everyone else did all those years ago when the showers were single sex, when a woman walked into the showers. I do not know who was more shocked her or me. Fortunately she did not scream she put her hand over her mouth and walked out. For a split second I panicked and visions of a long stretch inside a sex offenders unit sharing a cell with Mr Big the bottom burster and bull buggering Mad Jack ran through my head. I quickly left the sports centre and have not been back to that one.

We have all learned that politicians, bankers and estate agents cannot be trusted. It takes some time to become cynical but when the truth finally sinks in it hurts none the less. It is a bit like discovering the truth about the tooth fairy and Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. So discovering that I could be arrested for getting a shower in my local sports centre and the truth that ships no longer have cats has been an eye opener and possibly a revelation too far.

 

Spring is almost here, well it is if you listen to the Met office but officially spring starts on the vernal equinox which this year happens to fall on March 20^th. The Met office which likes to keep dates in simple order decided that spring started on March 1^st but as lunar or astronomy records have been going for far longer than the Met office, I like to use the old system. No matter I digress, the weather is warming up and hopefully I will soon be out in the garden and attending to all those jobs that require seasonal attendance. Work on the outside of the house should recommence as well.

I recently discovered my garden shed was becoming damp. The problem was traced to rain water falling off the roof and onto the brickwork. A simple solution seemed to place guttering around the edges of the roof to divert water away. All well and good, but the guttering needs to be placed on a fascia board that has to be screwed to the brickwork first. Not a big problem but the walls have to be pointed before the woodwork goes up. Again this is not a huge imposition but it does require warm weather to stop the pointing from freezing and dropping out. However before any of this can take place the roof itself needs sealing with a bitumen like substance and that does require warm weather. A relatively simple job with a simple solution has now turned into a large multi part task that can only be completed when the elements allow. Roll on spring!

It all seems a far cry from last years Halloween and bonfire night; the weather was crisp and the company fantastic. All of the usual suspects turned out in fancy dress for the Halloween party in the grounds of Chateau Ghastanbury. Most of it is a bit of a blur as I was on medication for pain relief and I had been out of hospital for a mere few days, but the photos show I had a good time on both nights and I was well looked after by everyone who turned up. A big thanks to everyone who went to the effort of dressing up and the evening resembled something from a hammer house of horrors film set and the cast of the rocky horror show.

That show reminds me of the time at Christmas just gone when I became an inadvertent cross dresser. Bean Counter had bought me some silk underwear for travelling as the properties of silk make riding a bike for long distances far more comfortable and much more practical than cotton. As I came down the stairs a couple of days after Xmas clutching a small pile of laundry for the washing machine BC asked me why I had her knickers in my hands. I asked her what she meant and she said I had her knickers with my pile of laundry. Looking down all I could see was a pair of black silk underpants along with some socks. Apparently the underpants were knickers right down to the frilly lacing around the edges and they were not mine. It would appear I had picked up the first set of underwear from the clean pile I came across that was clean, about my size, the right colour and looked vaguely like my own. Hopefully I won’t get her stockings and my socks mixed up or I will be auditioning for the part of Dr Frank-n-Furter.

To keep me on the straight and narrow I gave up alcohol for lent after having a final blow out on Shrove Tuesday. Roger Moore, Sophia Loren, her mum and BC were in attendance. It all started swimmingly and then the non stick frying pan decided to stick. Pancakes that should have flipped did not. I made the decision that as the frying would not work for me then it must personal and I would make sure it would never cock a snook at anyone ever again. After a few beers I took the pan into the garden and flattened it with a very large hammer. There is something completely satisfying in destroying something that refuses to do what you want it to do. I still hark back to my period of technic cleansing when my PS3 ended up in the garden pond. Expensive? Yes. Satisfying? Completely and I am still chuckling about it.

 

It seemed like a good idea at the time and so I spent part of Thursday evening thinking about an exercise programme having already gone swimming with the Prince of Darkness only the night before. And so before I knew it I was on the floor attempting press ups. I managed two before my stomach decided it did not want to do this and I crumpled into a heap and stared at my cat that was looking at me with bemusement and contempt in the way that only cats can do. What had I done to deserve this contempt I can hear you asking.

A week ago Genghis came into the house with blood pouring from his chest. As it was bleeding over the carpets and showed no sign of letting up me, Roger Moor and the Traveller investigated. There seemed to be a single puncture mark which was where the blood was coming from. After a beer or two we decided that boxers when they are cut use Vaseline to stop blood flow and after a few more beers we decided that an application of Savlon would not only stop the blood flow but would disinfect the wound at the same time. Wrapping the cat up in a towel I held him on his back and with RM stroking him under the chin to soothe him the Traveller proceeded to apply disinfectant cream. Satisfied with our attempts at first aid we all had another beer and marvelled at how good a job we had done. Genghis licked off the cream and started bleeding again. I did what any normal person would do and let him lie on the reddish carpet in the living room in front of the fire. The blood would not show up as much and the fire would make the wound scab over. The three of us agreed that this was a brilliant plan and that neither Christian Barnard nor Sans Frontieres could have drawn up and executed a better plan. We had another beer!

Fast forward a few days and it was apparent that Genghis was not at all well and he would not eat or drink and wanted to sleep a lot more than usual. I made an appointment for the vets and after an investigation it was revealed that he had six puncture marks on his chest and that they were from a cat bite. It had become infected and this was compounded by the fact he had licked off the Savlon cream and the cream was toxic to cats and not for ingestion in any way shape or form. A couple of injections of antibiotics and 50 quid later I took him home. He perked up in a matter of hours and I fed him a piece of raw sirloin I had bought especially for him. By the following day he was back to his old self. The vet had suggested I took him back in a few days for a check up and to give him his booster jabs and worming tablets.

As I walked in cat box in hand the vet said he looked fine and that it would be a good idea now he was here to keep him at the surgery and perform THE OP. I was horrified, I mean I always knew that he would need it but I was not going to be the one who took him there and that is exactly what I had done. It felt like I had taken my best mate out and led him to a butchers shop with sinister intent something along the lines of the butchers in the League of gentlemen. I mean I had always figured that if responsible cat owners put lady cats on the pill then Genghis would not have to have his bollox chopped off and all because some brazen hussy could not keep her tail between her legs.

I picked him up several hours later and he looked sorry for himself. I do not think he knew what had had happened as the anaesthetic had not yet worn off but I figured it would not take him long to figure out that something was missing. So not only was he looking at my pathetic form with utter contempt but he must have been thinking it’s payback time.

 

And the news is…. Yes, Commander Riker, on bended knee, finally proposed to Miss Décolletage on Christmas day and she graciously accepted. The happy couple are now engaged after an eight year romance and set to tie the knot sometime in 2011. Of course the idea of a private wedding on a beach somewhere in exotic lands has for now gone out of the window with the world and his dog wanting to attend the ceremony. I have of course come up with a proposal that will meet all of their needs and at a budget they can afford. As most people know I am a Bona fide Jedi priest and as such I have offered to perform the ceremony for them on the local shore at low tide and throw in a hog roast on the local common and all for only 2 cases of Stella. To my surprise this did not provide the undying gratitude I had initially hoped for but they have said they will get back to me.

So what else is new? Well Roger Moor knocked at my door the other day clutching a bottle of Jack Daniels and said take a look at this. He had the bottle in one hand and the top in another. The top had a spike in it and the bottle smelt of fruit. Emails to JD headquarters in Lynchburg Tennessee resulted in a phone call from the top man at the UK head office. It would appear that the latest wheeze is for someone in the distribution chain, IE at one of the supply warehouses in the UK, to implement the brilliant idea of drilling through the stopper of a bottle of JD. They then siphon the JD out of it, replace it with apple juice because it is the same colour and seal it up with a section of cocktail stick and disguise the offending wood with black marker pen. The end result was that RM received two bottles of JD as compensation and the offending bottle was taken away for forensic examination.

This is hardly a new idea but the ingenuity of disguising the hole that was drilled is. I well remember someone telling me a long time ago about bottles of whiskey that had the same treatment. As the top was a cork that did not need drilling a syringe was all that was needed to draw out the contents of a bottle. Cold tea was then injected into the bottle to make up the contents and the cork would self seal. It is the reason why many bottles now have metal caps with a tamper proof seal however it seems JD has stuck to time and tradition and is still using cork with a plastic cap.

As I mentioned in my last post I am now back at work and after four weeks it feels as though I have never been away. This is in no small part thanks to my colleagues who have been wonderful. I still get pains in my stomach and I think it will be some time before they subside if they ever go completely. I finished off the work in my shed at the weekend just gone and as I was putting the tools away I lifted a toolbox to stow it in its home and I felt what can only be described as a tear in my belly and I felt sick almost immediately. The pain went a couple of hours later and I decided that I could not let it run my life for me or dictate what I could or could not do. So I arranged with the Prince of Darkness to go swimming last night. The first length was ok and the second one was not bad but after that it went downhill. I got out of the pool after only 20 minutes and came home. This morning I could hardly move and my stomach muscles felt as though a cannon ball had gone though them. The pain is easing off as I write but I think only a course of gentle exercise will toughen me up. I intend to go swimming again and it may turn out to be a regular event. I will know more in a week or so.

So far the year has gone well and it has certainly been an improvement on the last few years even at this early stage. As usual I have splashed out on my credit card as I always do in the January sales. (More about that in the travel section) A plan of work for the house and dates for that work to be implemented has been completed and work has already started. The shed being one of the many jobs to be completed by the end of September has already been finished. It is now leak free and tidy. A gutter goes up around the shed this weekend coming and new blinds are being fitted to the windows in a fortnight’s time. The Traveller who has just gone back to the South of France has a drawn up a plan and timetable of when each room is being decorated and that will start in March.

In spite of the pains in my stomach I feel good about myself and the prospects for this coming year. I feel full of hope and things that would have got me down last year now seem like a challenge that can be taken on and completed. With the news that the recession is finally over in the UK maybe things are looking up!

 

And so after one of the longest and coldest periods of winter we have endured over the last 20 years or so the snow has finally cleared. Unfortunately the big thaw has also produced localised flooding and the dreaded burst pipes. The garden shed had a few plumbing leaks and the past weekend has generally been spent trying to repair and replace old piping. The event should have taken only an hour or two but the old pipes are made from imperial measurements and the new ones are from metric. The two do not always marry up and it may be a few days before I can turn the water on again.

Of course the news about bins not being emptied and roads being blocked and schools and commerce being shut is nothing shocking in a country where the trains stop running because of leaves on the line or the roads being closed because of the wrong type of snow. It all pales into insignificance though when faced with news from around the world of earthquakes and mass graves totalling over 70,000 bodies so far. Our society may be far from perfect but a quick look around the world shows it to be a Shangri-La in a maelstrom of chaos and confusion. No wonder so many people want to get in.

With talk of getting in, imagine my surprise when out of the blue a phone call from a number I did recognise turned out to be my old mate the Printer. He was calling from the UK and had unbeknown to any one come home from Oz for a holiday with his wife and their two children. We arranged to meet up for a few hours and he and his family landed on my doorstep on Sunday Jan 10^th. It was great to see him and he had hardly changed over the years. I have come to the conclusion that for all the times he has told me he was homesick the trip has proved to be a shock for him as the UK is such a different place than it was when he left. He no longer recognised many aspects of the country he once knew and he said the streets were quieter than he remembered and the social life was not the same. I think it will be a long time before he ventures back onto UK soil again. Oz may have its problems but they are different from the UK.

Thanks to my impairment I have not started Rhonda up for a few weeks and as the cold snap had me worrying about whether or not she had enough anti freeze in the cooling system I disrobed the protective swaddling and fired her up. I was half expecting to see the radiator leaking a sieve and the cylinder heads shatter but god bless her she ran like a dream and after 20 minutes I so I closed her down again. That’s when the problems started. Getting her back on the stand was not as easy as taking her off it. My muscles and especially my stomach are still aching from the strain.

I am now back at work and have been for two weeks. Although things have changed as you would expect them to over so long it still feels as though I have never been away. The first day or two were strange but thanks to my wonderful colleagues I seem to have settled in nicely. My scribings may not be up to speed with all of the events that have taken place over the last few weeks, especially the festivities but at least I am now getting there and I expect to be back up to speed very shortly fate and the gods willing of course.

 

I cannot remember the last time I was so delighted to see a year out. 2009 was not the worst year in my life but it was far from the best and 2010 has come in roaring like a lion. The weather is awful and I am finally back in work. I have a lot of catching up to do both work wise and socially. The past year has also treated various close friends in a similar manner to me although it would not be fair to put names to ailments even if most of them are Nome De Plumes. It is just best to say here is to 2010 and I hope everyone out there has a wonderful year ahead of them.

For me the coming year will be a busy one if any of my dreams are to come to fruition. There is still a lot of work to be completed on the house before the “for sale” sign goes up and I hope to have this ready by the end of September. Hopefully the economic situation will have recovered enough by this time to encourage the banks to lend realistic amounts of money to would be home buyers. There is no shortage of people who want to and can afford to buy. There is a shortage of banks who will lend them the money to do so.

It has also been noted and commented upon that the posts in my blog have been lacking in both regularity and frequency. Sad though it is while there has been a great deal to comment upon I have not always been up to the job of blogging. I mean to say who would have thought that Tiger Woods would have become a hero and a true aspiration to many young sportsmen. I can hear the gasps of incredulity from here but allow me to explain. One marital indiscretion may seem like being cold hearted, two maybe a bit caddish and three definitely a bit of a rake, but 13 and still counting! For god’s sake if I was the chief exec of Pfizer or Red Bull I would be banging on his doorstep with cheques for endorsement.

I can see the adverts now, Tiger Woods sponsored by Red Bull and Viagra. The advert for Gillette would definitely be along the lines of Even Tigers love a smooth pussy, Gillette the best a man can get. So how come Tiger has become a hero in my eyes? Well it shows what you can do when you get to the top of your game. How many adolescent males with far too many hormones running around them would dedicate themselves to sport if they thought they could earn loads and be banging porn stars, cocktail waitresses and hostesses instead of rioting on the streets and selling drugs.

Think about it, England would have won every world cup since its inception if all young footballers thought that would be a reward for practise, hard work, long hours and dedication. Our entire Olympic team would become gold bearing Olympians with monotonous regularity. As Dave Bowie sang we can be heroes.

 

Not a great deal has happened, I am still off work and unable to drive. My last attempt was a failure as I could not turn around to see out of the back window when reversing and twisting to see what traffic was approaching me at a junction was fraught with distress. On the few occasions I have been able to bend down and pick something up I have had severe pains afterwards. So, I am still in self imposed house arrest and I am slowly going around the bend. Day time TV has finally become unbearable and I have read every book in the house, even Genghis is giving me a wide berth as I have become so grumpy.

With so little happening I have not had a lot to write about. However I have been keeping up with the news and the directors of RBS which has been bailed out by us the taxpayers have threatened to resign en masse if they are not allowed to give themselves almost 2 billion pounds in bonuses. What is it with bonuses? People get paid for doing a job. They should not be paid more just because they do it well. They should be doing it well and if they are not then they should be sacked. However the people in the world of finance are on a different planet from the rest of us. Having caused the biggest financial crisis in the last 50 years they still think they should be entitled to huge payments for what amounts to a spectacular failure and derivation of duty. Failure and incompetence seem to be the way forward.

Another area of incompetence that has been in the news is the fact that two of Her Majesties latest and best naval vessels are sailing around without any working missile system. These two ships pronounced as the best in the world for their fighting capabilities by the Royal Navy are armed with little more than a pop gun each. The radar systems that allow these ships to be so deadly are still on trials in the south of France and has been for almost three years. No one actually knows when it will be available for active service. Is it any wonder then that piracy in the waters off Somalia is so prolific when the navy does not have any ships capable of stopping pirates?

Yet more woeful incompetence by our wonderful government is the waste of billions of pounds on a centralised National Health Service computer system which does not work and further development is now being halted to save money. Up to 12 billion has already been spent on the damn thing and another 4 billion is needed to make it operational. If the waste of money was not so serious it would be funny. The systematic reward of failure and incompetence is alive and well in every walk of life from private industry to government waste on things that should work but do not. I have no doubt the people who are designing the radar system and the computer programmes for the NHS will be amply rewarded with end of contract bonuses when they eventually manage to get up and running.

On a much lighter note the draw for the world cup took place on Friday and England seem to have an easy group from which to navigate their way forward to the knock out stages. I am sure our best and brightest will become a beacon of hope and inspiration for us mere mortals who will be cheering on our boys. Maybe just maybe these lads will actually earn a bonus but I won’t hold my breath.

 

So there we have it, democracy in its purest form. Mr Van Rumpy Pumpey is officially the new president of the EU or the Deathstar as I like to call it. A shining example to our boys in Afghanistan who are being shot at and blown up in an attempt to give a population in some far away land the right to elect their own leader while we have an unelected figurehead that no one has ever heard of foisted upon us. I do not recall any voting card being posted through my letter box. I had thought that many of my ancestors who died in two world wars had not passed away in vain. They died to stop some unelected leader ruling our lands and telling is what to do. How wrong I was. What pains me most is that many of the people who have said “what is all the fuss about”, have not read the Lisbon treaty and do not understand its full implications. Oh well if they do not realise then one day maybe their kids will.

In an attempt to relive the boredom of house arrest, I have been fed a diet of daytime TV and the other day I watched a programme about quantum mechanics. I do not profess to remotely understand the theory about Schrodinger’s cat nor how one thing can be in the two different places at the same time. I would ask all the academics out there one question. If something can be in two places at the same time then why can’t I be in the pub while I am in work? The theory is up there with the scientists from Gulliver’s travels trying to distil sunshine from cucumbers.

Work on the house revival has started and as I write two young guys are sorting out my aerials and placing a new super dooper aerial on the roof that should be capable of picking up radio Kamchatka.  The cables are being sorted out and once the new window blinds are in place the house should no longer resemble Steptoe and Sons palace. The list of jobs to complete on the house before it goes on the market is one shorter.

With the night’s drawing in, the mercury falling and adverts for Christmas appearing with alarming regularity, thoughts of travel and sunnier climes are once more looming large. I recently wrote to the Tiler and realised it has been three years since he and his family left. I have no idea where the time is going but its gathering speed and heading for the horizon. I remember promising him just as he left that I would be out there to see him within two years. Sadly as with the promised referendum on the Lisbon constitution/treaty, it has turned out to be another empty promise.