Category: Life

Apologies, again for the delay in posting but once more my comp has become infected with spyware and it has taken me some time to clean it with the help of Commander Riker of course. So what have I been up to and what is new since my last post?  The Revellers got married. Yes they are now an official item. And good news it is too. I mean without marriage, vicars and divorce lawyers would be on the dole and in these times that would not be good for the economy with all the job seekers allowance being paid out. So, the very best of luck to the newlyweds in their future together. Naturally BeanCounter and me went to the evening party after the wedding, had a great time, met some old friends and took some photos. It was a fantastic night and an absolute bapfest, thanks Sapho! Check out the gallery.

With the weather being as bad as it has been (the forecasters told us it would be a good summer and so far it has pissed down for most of June and July) barbys have been a rarity. So when Ted Magnum called around one evening we decided there and then that this was as good as it was going to get and my annual big barby was going to take place that very evening with just seven people. Teech came along as did the Animal, the Revellers, BC and of course Roger Moore.  Meat and sausages were cooked in the rain and TM managed to get a bit of a blaze going. Actually it was an inferno and he burned one of the roof trusses I was going to use for a new porch before I had realised what he was doing. Much alcohol (read obscene masses) was consumed and after what seemed like 5 minutes but was several hours, BC had gone to bed and everyone else had left to go home apart from TM, Teech and me.

Now this happens to everyone at least once in his or her lifetime. You have a few drinks with friends and then some one comes up with an idea of such breathtaking audacity and brilliance that it must be acted upon and put into action immediately. Thus it came to pass that TM said why don’t we go for a streak?  Within moments and without thought or question Teech, TM and yours truly had stripped to the buff and were running around the grounds in Château Ghastanbury.  It was a real Chariots of Fire moment; only the slow-mo and glasses of champagne atop the hurdles were missing. A genuine throwback to the seventies when streaking was all the rage.

God alone knows what any of the neighbours would have thought had we been spotted. We were lucky it was close to 4am. At best it looked like an over enthusiastic bout of naturism and at worst a warm up for a full on gay orgy. It only became apparent the following morning when with all of us suffering with hangovers TM said “I had a horrible dream last night; we were all streaking down your road”. With some flickering of joint recognition we prayed that it had been a collective bad dream but deep down we suspected it wasn’t. Sheepishly we looked at each other and checked mobile phones and cameras. I can tell you the camera does not lie.

 

June 22^nd and it was to have been mums birthday but as she was not here to celebrate it we held it without her and in her honour. Sophia Loren and her mum came along and we had a meal and celebrated with a toast of Vodka in memory of Elsie aka the Marchioness of Ghastanbury. I say a toast there were quite a few of them and the evening fairly rattled along. My brother rang and I had a beer or two over the phone with him and before we knew it the night had become a blur. The following day Elsie’s ex carer called in and so we did it again joined by Roger Moor and the Animal and another hazy night of memories and anecdotes passed into oblivion.

I had made arrangements to go and stay with Big Bro for the weekend some time ago and as Friday morning arrived I loaded up the bike and Bean Counter and I set off to Edinburgh. The plan was to go at a steady pace and try to outrun the pending dark clouds and possible rain which we managed to do. 250 miles of motorway slipped effortlessly by and before we knew it we were being greeted by familiar faces. It was a relief to get off the bike and my arse is now resembling something like a teak plank but a few beers later followed by a cracking meal and I had forgotten about any pain in my posterior.

The following morning arrived and I just did not feel like getting out of bed at all and it was 10-30ish by the time I surfaced to a cooked breakfast cooked by Sis in Law along with a mug of steaming tea. I had planned to go out for a ride and view some of the spectacular scenery in his part of the world but the clouds did not look inviting and so I chilled out until his friends came along for a drink and a meal sometime in the afternoon. It had been a few years since I had last seen Camouflage and his wife the Lighthouse Keeper but we caught up in no time aided by a few beers. As happens all too often the evening ended and as they left we promised to try and stay in touch longer and not leave it so long. I will try this time I promise.

Arriving back at Chateau Ghastanbury it was obvious the weather had played havoc with the grounds. My sweet corn and green beans are rocketing along as are the tomatoes and salad crops. However, my peas have all but died. I have no idea why, perhaps someone out there can enlighten me? For now all I can do is pray to the gardening gods to give peas a chance.

 

All seasons in one month! Yes it is June, supposedly flaming June, but we have had flash floods, snow and now severe weather warnings of thunder storms. No wonder my plants and crops are not growing; they do not know what time of year it is. The forecasters suggested that this year would produce a wonderful summer but I have seen little evidence of it thus far. The only way you know it is supposed to be summer is by the bumper number of slugs, snails and of course mozzies! The slugs have devastated my border plants and a large herd of caterpillars have munched their way through an entire red currant bush and are now starting on the blackcurrants. Why is it that slugs, snails and caterpillars do not like weeds and nettles? If there was any need at all for genetic engineering surely it would be for something that has a voracious appetite for garden pests and mozzies or to make such creatures have a preference for things apart from food crops and flowers.

In order to obtain more sunshine to my greenhouse I have chopped over one ton of timber from my cherry blossom tree and while I was in such a mood Ogri from next door asked me to trim the dividing hedge. It has been cut back from six foot tall to just over three feet. There is now a budding pile of firewood just waiting for November the fifth and bonfire night. Of course if my mate the Tiler was here we would be burning stuff as we speak whilst knocking back a bottle of JD between us. Sadly one of the things I look forward to most of all in summer has been noticeably lacking. That is of course the good old barbecue. Regular readers will know that this started off as a barbecue site and has now developed into my own take on life and a personal travelogue. Bad weather has reduced the barbecue season to tossing a few burgers and the occasional sausage onto the grill in between rain drops. Between the rain and the economy it looks as though the big affairs at Chateau Ghastanbury and events such as Tedstock have seen their glory days and may never be repeated.

It is a sad state of affairs but events like those mentioned take up vast amounts of time and planning and not an inconsiderable amount of hard cash. When the weather cannot be relied upon it is soul destroying and spirit crushing to see all that effort and money simply wasted. Moving abroad to sunnier climes and predictable weather has never felt more appealing. Unfortunately any move has had to be put on hold until the economy picks up. Even a planned foray into Europe later on in September is now in some doubt. There is of course more than one reason for this but finance does play a big part and the numbers involved are bigger than I had thought. The schedule is also hectic and I doubt if I am physically fit enough to cope with the mileage involved during 14 days. I have started a diet and it is going well so far and my fitness levels are on the up but I can do nothing about the numbers which have seen petrol creep up again to scary prices. A petrol station in London was charging £1.42 per litre for unleaded fuel. The average nationwide is now around £1.10 or roughly a fiver per gallon.

Of course the government simply has no room to manoeuvre in the way of cutting fuel tax. The economic deficit is now so large that it will be future generations paying it all off. The knock on effect is that prices of almost every commodity are rising due to vastly increased transportation costs. At a time when wallets are being hit the hardest for almost 70-80 years this is the very last thing the country needs. It may be winter down under but I bet the Tiler and the Printer will be laughing their socks off when they read this. Cheers boys.

 

After 14 days of continual rain, it finally stopped and the sun appeared last Friday resulting in the hottest day of the year so far. The weather has been absolutely glorious and at long last some serious grass cutting has been performed by me and my two neighbours, Roger Moor and Ogri. The wet weather has played havoc with gardening schedules and as a by product there has been a bumper crop of mosquitoes and caterpillars. The mosquitoes made a right meal out of me on Sunday evening as i sat outside watching the stars and the said caterpillars have munched their way through a complete red berry bush and all I have left on display is a twig! I hate to say it but I am going for the chemical fix.

The long running saga of MP’s expenses continues to rumble on with some members of the cabinet announcing that they will stand down at the next election. This is simply not good enough. If an MP stands down at an election then they receive a “parachute payment” that could be as much as 50K sterling plus a “winding down allowance” of almost as much again. If they stand down at any other time of year apart from an election year they get nothing. They are still milking the system and announcing that they are following the rules. They should resign today and get in line on the dole queue. For us mere mortals who get caught with our hands in the till it is the sack, a possible criminal conviction and years on unemployment benefit with nothing. I said in an earlier post that I had never seen British politics sink so low and to be at a lower point of esteem at any other time in my life. I was wrong; it is lower today but not as low as it will be tomorrow. The politicians will only have themselves to blame if a minority extreme party such as the BNP take up a lot of seats.

This brings me to another worrying point, I mentioned again in a previous post, a comparison with the earlier depressions of the early 1900’s and the 1930’s and the consequences that followed. It would seem that a whole lot of countries are in the re-armament business today. China has announced an expansion of its fleet to cope with the size of the South Pacific fleet of the US and North Korea has ended its 53 year  truce with South Korea. At the moment it sounds like a lot of sabre rattling but then again so did Hitler’s military build up and invasion of the low lands prior to his invasion of Poland.

At least when we see the many vapour trails across the sky followed by a few mushroom clouds we will at least know that those cheating thieving scum who used to represent us will not be in government bomb proof shelters but stuck out here with the rest of us.

 

It’s time for a short rant….. British politics has never been at a lower ebb or held in lower esteem than right now. Our blood sucking, lying, thieving, rule bending, tax avoiding, elected representatives have been caught with not only their hand in the cookie jar, but actually trying to carry the bloody thing away. How is it that normal working people cannot claim for their food and second homes because they work miles away from where they live at tax payers expenses? It’s all very well for the Politicians to say they were only following the rules (the classic Nuremburg defence), they are the people who made the rules. The whole system absolutely stinks.

To make matter worse, a few MPs have been suspended but not sacked. Us mere mortals who do not have the privilege of a job in Her Majesties government or opposition would now be looking at our P45’s and contemplating life in the dole queue if we had of done what they have. I once said that I think everyone should go and vote even if they do not support the political system in order to show appreciation to the people who gave their lives for our very right to do so. I am not so sure any more that any politician is worth voting for. They have sunk below estate agents and solicitors in the trust stakes. To my friends the Tiler and the Printer you have done absolutely the best thing in leaving these shores, the UK is sinking in a quagmire of sleaze and financial scandal started and finished by the very people elected to run our country.

Rant over….. best wishes to the Driver whose latest squeeze has become an item and they have set up home together, I wish the pair of you the very best of luck, God knows you deserve it mate! I Look forward to having a beer with the pair of you sooner rather than later and no I am not bitter that United won the Premier league again,Honest!! On yet another note a couple of people have queried the spelling of Ghastanbury. Sometime it is spelt with an H as in Ghastly and sometime the H is missing. This is down to the fact that some times the place is ghastly and sometimes the place is gastronomic. There is no correct spelling of Ghastanbury; it is more of a gut feeling than anything else. The second thing I would like to clear up is the date on some of the photographs. Whenever I take the battery out of the camera to recharge it, the date goes back to its original setting of 2003. I always forget to change it to its current setting until some one points it out to me.

A few weeks ago I decided that me and Bean Counter needed to become used to putting the tent up and sleeping in it. So one fateful evening I decided that we would sleep out in the grounds of Chateau Ghastanbury. I put the tent up although the plan was for BC to erect the damn thing; somehow she managed to avoid that one. As usual we had a beer or two and a meal cooked on the Barbie to get into the spirit of things before we bedded down for the night. At BC’s insistence I bought a pair of sleeping bags that could be zipped together as a double and a double sleeping bag liner. When we finally crawled into our hotel for the evening I fell straight asleep. BC woke up at around 5 five and went into the house to get some sleep in a real bed. I woke up at around 7pm due to the noise of two cats fighting in the garden. I could swear it was Genghis bit I will never be certain and I went to catch up on some sleep in the house.  It would appear that I snored and kicked all the time I was in the sleeping bag and in the process managed to turn 180 degrees so I was lying across BC’s belly. She was so uncomfortable she has solemnly sworn she will never share a sleeping bag with me again. Photos of the tent can found here, here and here.

On a much lighter note Sir Terry Wogan has stepped down from hosting the Eurovision song contest this year and his shoes have been filled by no lesser a person than Graham Norton. It’s a strange tradition that many Brits hold a party at Eurovision time. It is one of those events that is so bad it is actually good. We know we have no hope of winning the damn thing due to the block voting of the Eastern European nations and indeed it is the very reason that Sir Terry has stood down. However from the truly awful performance of Gemini one year receiving the humiliating accolade of being the only British entry to receive Nil Pouit the contest has become compulsive viewing for a large section of the British population at home and abroad. It is like a train crash that you have to watch. This year the Revellers held a soiree at their own Pied a Terre and invited me and BC along. They did everyone proud and everyone got into the swing of things with almost all turning up in costume of some sort to reflect the diversity of the event. BC went as a French Brothel Madame in stripy top and beret and I did my best as a sleazy Latvian pimp. Unfortunately my pencil moustache supplied by courtesy of eye liner pencil from Commander Rikers brothers’ wife, the lovely Paula, disappeared within seconds of my first drink and my wiping my top lip dry. It was a fantastic night and I can’t thank the Revellers enough for all the effort they put in and for making everyone feel welcome. I look forward to next year when it will probably be held at my place.

BTW we came a respectable fifth.

 

I received a phone call from my bank the other evening asking if I had attempted to purchase 2 tickets to Zimbawe on my credit card. I said no and after a lot of questions and dialogue we established that my credit card had been hacked and hijacked. A letter from my credit card company was in a similar vein and then another bank contacted me to ask if I has used internet banking recently. It seems my computer was hijacked and most of my details were being fraudulently used by persons unknown. I have not lost anything as it appears most of the attempted purchases were so out of character that my banks stopped the cards immediately.

I have spent two weeks setting up my new accounts with new passwords and new pin numbers. Although irritating it was not as maddening as having to flatten my computer and perform a complete software rebuild and installing resource hogging new anti virus software. In retrospect I am lucky I have suffered no financial loss but it makes me wonder how many other things have been hijacked. Some of my email accounts have certainly been hijacked and i have stopped using them. I hope this expains the lack of posts in the last two weeks. My computer was down and out!!

Although the clocks have gone forward the weather has not warmed up at all. Some seedlings that I placed in the greenhouse four weeks ago have still not germinated and show no signs of doing so. Of those that have germinated, a measly two cucumber plants, five radish and one lettuce have poked their heads through the compost. I will probably end up going to the garden centre to purchase ready grown seedlings of broad beans and peas etc. I can count my blessings I am not relying on this stuff for survival. I think we have established I am no Alan Titchmarsh.

The weekend gone, the first bank holiday of the season, saw us at Ted Magnums for a spring soiree and social get together. As usual I got there early and all went swimmingly well until Ted produced several 8 pint flagons of home made wine. The resulting blackouts and mass amnesia was truly staggering. I felt sorry for one lad who only called in for a few minutes because he was going to a wedding. After an hour he keeled over and was put to bed. Some time later his wife arrived to ask where he was and when told, started to develop scales and breathe fire. Most people backed off and hid in the garden until she had gone. As it was I was almost the last to leave and BC got me home, with some difficulty apparently, and in bed by 11pm. All in all it was a marvellous event and it reminded me of why I stopped making my own wine some years ago. The stuff is ruthless, extremely cheap and very quick to produce.

On a bright note the weather forecast for this summer is excellent. I hope so after the last two truly dismal summers we have had. Combined with the credit crunch the effect has been truly spirit crushing. I dont ever remember seeing so many people who are depressed. Whilst I dont feel as bad as others I have met I really feel lethargic and everything seems like such an effort. A good few days of sunshine would change everything. It would certainly enable me to get lawn mower out and cut the grass, it might even persuade my seedlings to put a spurt of growth on and poke their heads out into the open. I hope the forecasters are right.

 

Bean Counter was unfortunate enough to inherent nine Leylandi trees from the previous owner of her house and they have grown and grown. It is no wonder that they have been called the Rottweiler of the botanical world. For some time many well meaning people have promised to come and take a look at them and maybe fell them for her as the height reached over 40 foot and blocked out most of the light into her garden. However over the years no one has actually come along and done the job, so after a few beers one night Ted Magnum and me thought, well how hard can it be?

I picked Ted up from his house one morning over the Easter weekend and armed with a bow saw, an axe, a couple of machetes and a raging hangover we set to. After an hour it was obvious that an axe and a bow saw with all the best will in the world was going to be no match for these monsters. There was only one thing to do and that was head out to B+Q for a chainsaw.

Some time later we returned to BC’s house with a shiny new McCulloch chain saw and let rip. Three hours later, several heart stopping moments and much humming and ha-ing we had daylight in the garden. Of the 9 trees only 4 were left standing. I was persuaded by Ted not to juggle the chain saw as it was going and in the cold light of day it was probably a good thing. It was probably a good idea that the axe was taken away from me and I was handed the prestigious job of supervising and chief morale booster. After handing out the beers and starting rousing choruses of “I’m a lumberjack and I’m ok”, I feel pretty sure that I carried out my duties rather well.

I am sure we could have finished the job completely but trying to get the damn things to fall exactly where we wanted them to is a science we have not yet mastered and after a few close shaves and many nervous neighbours peering behind twitching curtains we called it a day. There are far too many logs in BC’s garden and these have to be taken away before we can continue.

Sterling work was performed by BC’s two sons who formed the Cutting Crew and delimbed the trees as fast as Ted cut them down and I could drag them into a clear patch. At the end of the day the beers came out and the Barbie was sparked up. The wood was too green and wet to be turned into a bonfire but they will almost all end up at Tedstock for this year’s bonfire. BC’s garden resembles a napalm strike and it will be some time before we can restore it to its former glory but the deforestation will continue.

No date has yet been set for part two but I am certain that we will all be in fine form and raring to go. As Rush once sang “There is trouble in the forest”

 

So I woke up only just remembering that the clocks had gone forward. Ted Magnum was due any minute providing he had not overslept. We all had hangovers from a get together at the Revellers house the night before, and we were going on the Egg Run! For the benefit of my foreign chums let me explain. Every year there is a meeting of bikers that go for a bike run from the waterfront at New Brighton and ride in convoy to Clatterbridge hospital collecting money for a children’s charity as they go. The distance is only 20 miles or so but each year the number of participants has risen enormously. Traditionally they used to take an Easter egg for the children at the hospital but there are now so many participants that they ask for donations instead.  The total amount of riders this year was 10,000. Yes that is Ten thousand and they come from many parts of the country and from the continent.  You can imagine what 10,000 chocolate Easter eggs would do to a bunch of kids teeth.

Again and mainly for the benefit of any one who has never seen this spectacle or taken part in it, at a given signal hordes of bikers set off in a sort of orderly fashion and in some sort of order. This means that for those at the back it may take an hour of slow moving inch by inch until you are on the open road, all the while breathing in exhaust fumes from some serious petrol heads who may or may not decide to see who has the loudest set of exhaust pipes in the pack. The normal rules of road courtesy go out of the window although speed limits are adhered to through the many police that line the 20 mile route. You overtake as and when you can and this means being overtaken on the inside and out usually at the same time. It is exhausting, nerve racking but tremendous fun and I was glad to be in amongst the pack.

I lost TM within minutes of setting off but met him later on at a pub called the TAP. With many hundreds of bikes all setting off for the same location parking was at a premium and after only an hour we set off for another watering hole called the Swinging Arm. This was also full but we found some space and parked there. The amount of bikes and sheer range of models and makes is truly staggering and I was lucky to be able to take a photo of one of the best Trikes I have ever seen. It was pulling a trailer and was undoubtedly a show stopper. By the time I was home I was exhausted and shattered from the stop, start, go fast, go slow procedure. My arms ached and my legs and both hips ached from the strain of keeping the bike upright and not running into any one and from getting out of the way should they decide to run into me. Twice I had to stop as cramp in my hips got to me. It just shows I am getting old or arthritis is setting in. Beancounter felt as tired  although mainly from petrol fumes.

I did notice that the back brake is so ineffective it may just as well be there for ornamental purposes and I have to give some serious thought to the amount of weight I carry on the bike. A short run is planned to the Lake District in a few weeks and from there we will decide as to whether or not BC and me will actually take Rhonda to Portugal in September. More news on that as it happens. Right now it is Roger Moors birthday and we are about to do some serious damage to a bottle of Jack Daniels and Little Miss Sunshine’s daughter is in hospital waiting to give birth. As of 30 minutes ago her waters had just broken. I did ask LMS if this was a good thing and could it be fixed. I have been assured that waters breaking are a good thing. Strange that, I thought you went into hospital to get things fixed not broken!

More news as it happens……..

 

It has been a funny old week, knowing just where to start is always the problem.  Tuesday evening and my good friend Roger Moor popped into see me. We watched my beloved LFC wipe the floor with Real Madrid and we had a nightcap or two I can’t really remember how many. However, we did and we decided to try out the allegedly favourite drink of Toulouse Lautrec. This is called Le Earthquake and consists or equal measures of Cognac and Absinthe. The taste does grow on you after a while but the effect is truly devastating. After 3 I had started to hallucinate and the last thing I remember is RMstaggering out of the door. I woke up on the couch at approximately 10am. As it was it was my day off work and I had to stay in anyway as a gasman was coming to service the boiler.

I was still feeling out of sorts when RM came home from work and we had a “livener”. It started going downhill from there. I went to bed early acutely aware that I had to be up for work in the morning. The rest of the week flew by and on Saturday afternoon I made contact with the Driver and promised to ring him in the evening. Before that I was drive to Manchester Airport to pick up the Traveller who had flown back from Greece on a reconnaissance mission for some land and property.  As I picked him up he promptly said “within 24 hours of landing I remembered why I left there all those years ago”. I got lost coming home from the airport, the signs all seem to have changed and after driving around in Manchester city centre we headed for the M62. It was not the way I would have chosen to come home and it took us a lot longer but it was the start of a downward spiral.

We arrived at Château Ghastanbury to be greeted by Beancounter and RM and a quiet drink to welcome the traveller back home that descended into farce. Le earthquake re-surfaced and at some point in the evening RM staggered home again, I demanded that BC give me back the keys to the house for some completely unknown reason and the Traveller collapsed into the fireplace. It took me all of Sunday to recuperate and three of us to sit down and try and work out what happened the night before. As a result we have collectively decided to ban Le Earthquake from Chateau Ghastanbury. I have lost two days of my life to the green fairy and I do not wish to lose any more. The travellers head is fine and me and BC are still speaking.

To the Tiler, the Printer and the Driver apologies for not getting in touch as I promised but I was a little bit out of it, the only consolation I have is that I was not on my own! How Toulouse managed to drink that stuff on a regular basis is completely beyond me, but I can understand why Van Gogh was so wasted he cut his ear off. Le earthquake, it demands respect.

 

February 25^th as everyone knows is Pancake Day or to give it its correct title Shrove Tuesday and the evening preceding Lent. Strictly speaking Pancake Day is not a universal term and in some countries it is called Carnivalle and a host of other names around the globe. In 2008 Bean Counter and me had spent a wonderful evening at the home and in the company of Sophia Loren and her mum where we were treated to a sumptuous feast. I decided I wanted to return the favour this year and duly concocted a myriad of recipes for the pancakes I was to make.

These included, curry, chilli, crispy duck, sweet and sour pork and spinach and cheese for the mains. For desert I had decided in my mind upon a mixture of Crepe Suzettes, cherries and cherry sauce, chocolate and ice cream and strawberries and cream. Surely a feast in the making? BC did question as to whether or not we could possibly eat one of each but the Traveller decided it would not be a problem and was backed up by Roger Moor.

I had spent a day preparing all the fillings and the evening was spent making the batter, a task of no small feat considering the amount I would need and was helped along the way by BC and a couple of bottles of inspiration. As the evening arrived things got a little hectic as guests arrived and cooking everything got under way. I even managed to flip a couple of pancakes with as much flamboyance and panache as I could muster. This was mainly due to good luck and the Traveller recorded it in on camera for posterity.

Halfway through the evening it became apparent that BC was right and it was impossible to eat one each of the 9 pancakes no matter how much we drank. RM gave up after the chocolate one and SL and her mum shared each one from the crispy duck onwards. By the time the liqueur coffees were ready I no longer knew what I had eaten but knew I could not manage another mouthful. We did try and the cheese board was presented with a bottle of port which I apparently finished off as no one else liked it very much. I can report that not much cheese was consumed.

As the photos suggest the evening was a roaring success and will probably be repeated next year and is another event that will become a regular fixture on the Ghastanbury calendar. In keeping with the spirit of Lent I have given up biscuits and chocolate until Easter. Although not a religious person I have decided to follow the Eastern style of abstinence. This is different from the Western churches idea of Lent in which Sundays do not count. I have thought this style as being a bit wishy washy and not hard core enough for me. Abstinence is abstinence and should be for a set period, not one with regular breaks in it for good behaviour, roll on Easter.