Gobshite!!

No sooner had I blogged than the era of the gobshite struck over these last days, I have as I did when I was a mere brooding teenager found "Tony 1".

And no I do not refer as then to chest hair, or to grey hairs but to the now hastily dispatched lug hole hair protrusions. And yes I know because I pulled it out it will return tenfold, just like my nasal hair and greying locks, and yes I also know (with the benefit of hindsight) that it will smart if I pull it out, though not as much as the nasal versions I might add.

Anyway to the joys of a consumer society, safe in the knowledge that time waits for no man I have had definitive proof from two independent locations this week. Firstly Cadburys mini eggs on sale in WHSmith on Kings Cross station, and secondly Hot Cross Buns in Asda today.

I don't think someone has quite got it somewhere, I would suggest that in normal situations the premise would be to celebrate someones death after they were born and not the other way round, but perchance I miss the point. And I do like it for the balls of the whizz bang novelty marketing ploy guru who thought it up, though I can see all kinds of problems with it if it is widened to society in general.

One good thing though, I clearly missed valentines day, Mothers day, and probably a few others in the last few weeks so should be able to save a couple of quid for Christmas! Shall we start that in June next year??

Views

Been cogitating again over the last couple of days as my birthing day creeps upon me, as to whether I really am quite as old as I don't feel, and decided it depends from what view one looks upon it.

One view is that from the outside that sees my happy smiling face each day and hears my dulcet tones and sees the act that befits the image of a professional accountant. Along with greying hair and hair growth that never was there when I was a youth, though I still await with interest the time when I get those growths of hair protruding from my lug holes.

Another is that from my boys of a very, very old man who they see sparingly through the week and just happens to be their Daddy.

And then there is the one from behind these eyeballs and the disturbing feeling that although I must be ageing (given that is inevitable if all we are taught is true), I don't really feel any different today to what I felt yesterday or the day before.

I guess there is only one answer. You are only as old as who you feel!

Bugger!! Knew I shouldn't have been a toy boy!

Anyway just to please myself here's another of my joke repertoire!

Mickey Mouse is in the divorce courts and it's not going well ,when the judge says to him in a most exasperated voice " I'm sorry Mr Mouse but I can find no grounds for divorce due to your wife having buck teeth!"

Mickey in the politest way he can muster almost at bursting point reposts " I didn't say she had buck teeth, I said she was f****ing Goofy!!"

TTFN

Racing

Opportunities

And so the summer of our discontent is leading merrilly onwards to a winter of mellow fruitfulness or something of the sort along with it, rampaging its way through the sleet are exciting times.
What with new jobs, new businesses and a "global" economic downturn all underway, its great to see the world still has time for a joke or too.
Love the one from Mr Darling and his knocking 2.5% off vat will stimulate the economy, haven't laughed as much in years.
Sorry political comment again, just looking at my tax bill rising over the next ten years, that's all!

Anyway a lion goes into a bar and says, Bartender i'd like a pint of your best .....................bitter, please. The bartender says What's with the big pause?? I'm a LION says the lion!!!

A ya ta ta ta tara ta ta!!!

Anyway on that note laters!!

Sunrise or Sunset?

Which is your favourite? Sunrise or Sunset?

I sat sitting driving my way to Derby as the sun rose this morning and a beautiful sight it was too, all oranges, purples and vivid streaks of light and it took me to a pondering moment as to which I preferred.

Simple truth I like both, but there is nothing better than sat on a summers evening, refreshment in hand, with a view of the sea, or the mountains, or wherever you prefer and seeing the world put itself to bed.

Nuff said, better go and wash up and the like and try and avoid my reflection as it bounces from the black hole of Calcutta that is the night at this time of year!

TTFN

Racing

Brass Bands!

Spent the day yesterday in remembrance, of not only the fallen but those left behind, as Sean the vicar said in the remembrance Sunday service, the effects of the ultimate sacrifice are long and heartfelt.

The image that stays with me is the petals of the poppies in their millions falling from the roof of the Albert hall and remembering that each one represents a life lost in the strive for peace.

There are only two real good bits to the whole thing other than a large dollop of reflection and thanks and that is watching the various cadet forces and scouts and beavers "marching" and the opportunity to listen to a brass band, without comment from Caroline (other than the usual "It's too loud").

There is no sight or perhaps sound better than a Brass band on the march, note to self must get over to Saddleworth this year to see the Whit Marches.

The other bit is that I hear the beautiful melody Nimrod, which along with the anthem of the old USSR has to be one of the best pieces of music of its type ever. On a cheerful note I've told Caroline I want Nimrod playing at my Funeral! So look out for that when the time comes!

One final note in this period of reflection, let us stand up and tell the government to stop being a set of arses and let our wounded servicemen have all the benefits in the world instead of the petty minded penny pinching which is happening to those injured and in receipt of a pension.

If need be tax me another 1p on petrol like you will anyway Mr Brown-Darling and spend it on something worthy for once instead of your own salaries!

For those who have dared to dream

This was written at the end of my studying days, but when I read it now it is pertinent to all manner of things where I have dared to dream yet feared the worst....

Results

The tension as it claws with its bile like leanings at the centre of your throat,
Grips your fevered brow and its rainbow of sweat,
Drives the demons of your mind into ever deeper despair,
Rages like a torrent down the mud slide of your dreams,
And builds like a religious convent without a home,
The trivialities of life upon which we depend blend into insignificance,
Dashed upon the storm clad rocks of potential ruin and disaster,
Of hoped for freedom, joy, and promises of the future,
The tension as it claws with its bile like leanings,
Digs deep at the blood cells in your heightened veins,
Drains the power of cohesive thought and common-sense,
Searches for its food on which to fester,
And sips greedily at the mucous of your brains desires,
Dares you to deny it, and enjoys the nonsensical humour of it all,
Looking in from the outside, the re-runs and potential errors which seem so manifest, pale,
No help in the world can release the prisoner of these darkened hours,
The tension and the fight, unequal and distraught,
Dampen the soiled canvas of your protective art,
Developing alternative images of unimagined, undared, success and broken idols,
Screams at the tautness of your violin string spine,
Plucks gladly at the withered plumage and briefcase eyes you hide behind,
Centres itself on a time in the future which never seems to near,
And watches you cry the mists of deep despair,
The tension built, strategically with such a grand facade,
Is smote and led defeated from the battlefield,
Released from the pressure cooker of its existence by the sharp needle prick of a balloon,
Destroyed in the blink of an Owls eye amidst its steely gaze,
The ecstasy of its demise, tempered very little by the challenges to come,
Dreams of butterflies, of summer days, of angels and hummingbirds,
Replace the bile like leanings at the centre of your throat,
Wash clean the fears, to lay unfounded in the stench of rotting waste,
The sun is warm, all’s well with the world,
And my tiny morsel of this life shall sample the toast to which it is surely due.

Racing

Be Inspired

Now then, sorry it's been a while far too much sleeping, working and generally doing nothing, going on to remember to blog!

I was reminded by Jonny boy that I had been remiss, and as such here's a little thought for you which follows on from a book I've been reading.

There are so many ways that we can make excuses for not doing something, not trying something or just not having the courage to follow our dreams that it would be impossible for me to list them all, yet everyday we meet someone extraordinary who is doing something no-one else has done.

A prime example comes from my jogle blog where at Tarbet I met the head waitress who had had a brain tumour less than six months previously, yet was a shining beacon of happiness, and yes if your a cynic you can probably say her priorities had changed since her recovery etc etc, but that misses the point.

She wasn't telling people about it in a look at me and give me sympathy way, she was there saying look at what has happened and be inspired.

Going back to the book I have been reading called " Liquid thinking" by a guy called Damian Hughes he has all manner of people who have inspired him, to follow his dreams to write a book etc, and the quote I love from it comes from the famous Australian rugby league coach Wayne Bennett, whose parting message to his players each time they went out on the pitch was simple.

All he said was " Don't die with the music still in you"

Who said rugby players don't understand such comments, certainly not any English Rugby League supporter today after the Aussies have treated us to just how to put that message into action!

Laters, Racing

Long days in the saddle

Bit of a misnomer of a title as I haven't parked my derriere on my bike saddle very much at all this year, however I refer to travelling for Yorkshire over this present week, having spent a day in Rosyth, followed by a day in Aylesbury, followed by the relative sobriety of Leeds.

Even managed something I have never done before, well two actually, crossed the Forth rail bridge, and been videoed presenting which I have to say were neither unpleasant or unuseful experiences.

The world especially my working world has gone upsy daisy and turned into a complete and utter balls up, unless one is a short seller over the past short period since I last blogged.

However the lighter side of life did surface the day it emerged that HBOS and Lloyds were to merge as within minutes a new logo was doing the rounds- in simple terms it was Howard riding Black Beauty (or whatever the Lloyds horse is called).

Though of course the bank will have to have a witty long winded name somewhere along the lines of Lloyds Hbos Tsb , it would probably be simpler to come up with a silly name like Guinness did when they became Diageo , hows about LHT, with a strap line "The Acronym bank".

Anyway enough, let me leave you on a very positive note, Christmas is just around the corner a mere 91 days away, if you need any clues what to buy me just let me know.

Flying

Ah a day in the air, what joy bumping around whilst trying manfully to entertain breakfast as the 7am flight to Edinburgh shot as a guided missile above the clouds.

Left in a cloud of rain and manful disdain for the precipitation by lack of coat, brolly and not a care that I may spoil my best wool suit. To traverse the skies over the west coast of England and the Lake District and see the fantastic snow covered peaks of the cloud formations from above.

Not quite sure a dive into the seemingly endless cotton wool would be anything other than a mirage, and a rather sticky end though.

Fantastic views of Edinburgh as you approach the airport from down river, the royal yacht Britannia and a couple of rather close sailing vessels, also looks like someone has been putting Graffiti on the forth rail bridge again as it is covered in what can only be painting paraphernalia.

Arrived and returned to bright sunshine, yes that's right the golden glowing thing that makes an appearance on occasion. Not the continued collection of golden orbs being collected by Britain's fantastic Paralympics team.

Can someone of obviously higher intellect than myself explain, why there is no terrestrial coverage of any of our major sporting events anymore, Cricket, Football, Rugby League, paralympics etc, why do we continue to forgo the national interest in the chase for the mighty Euro.

Apologies for the rant must be because I'm knackered now due to trying to burn the candle at both ends which at my age I should know I couldn't do at 18 successfully never mind the age most sensible sportsmen have retired, excepting madmen like Lance Armstrong!

Humour of a long past singleton

I wrote the following a long time past and though the haircolour isn't factual I can say My wife and I often frequented the same early morning "discotheques".

I must also for completeness state that certain names have been changed to protect the "perhaps" innocent!

The Wife.

When the Question came forth,
I pondered a moment, and answered with a smile,
Oh! I work for a firm of Accountants,
A deathly hush hung, like a lead balloon around my feet,
The ears of the status grabbing dolly,
And the money grabbing mutton, flapped openly in the breeze,
Only there was no breeze,
Except for Hector trying quietly to disgorge his nasal passages,
I breathed uneasily and tried nonchalantly to change ground,
And what are you doing now?
Trying my best to avoid an Accountant,
Said the gritted teeth and forced answer,
Replying with some airy fairy story, the conversation turned,
I replied with what I thought was a modicum of humour,
‘Open to offers’, ha, ha,
The feet are shifting uneasily now,
Still at home?
Er, yes,
Can’t you tell by the tank top, corduroy trousers and Ken Clarke brogues,
Silence.
Would you like a drink?
I’d be delighted and Tracy and Noreen ‘ll have a pint of cider,
So, as I return three stone lighter, feeling like a sheep at shearing,
I’m offered a cigarette,
Refusing I sit and peruse my orange juice,
I feel the burning of eyes,
And turn to find Nelly Mutton bearing down on me,
Her treble chin singing a sonata,
And her heavily Polyfilla’d face cracking under the strain,
I turn to the girls,
In relief they’ve fled to the safety of the dance floor,
Searching the bar for refuge of any kind,
I find the boys are taking turns emptying the young ones guts down the lavvie,
So you’re an Accountant?
The ‘come to bed’ eyes and the pleadings of interest,
Drive a wedge in my brain,
What kind?
Certified!
I’d ‘bloody’ have to be,
So as I made my excuses and headed for the door,
A most beautiful redhead who entered as I did,
Happened to depart,
By the way have you met the Wife?

Medalling or is it Meddling

Ever wondered how the English language develops or retards itself, just listen to the commentators at the Olympics, particularly those from across the water.

I'm sure the Oxford English will have if not now, certainly for 2012, the following verbs:

medal, meddle- to gain a lump of metal in a choice of three shiny colours particularly at worldwide sporting events such as School sports days, a mother in laws raison detre( though I might add mine is excluded from this definition!).

Podium - to medal and as appropriate survive elf and safety concerns by mounting various steps of differing heights without assistance.

Gold- The medal we Brits seem to have gained more of by some considerable margin than those ever so sporty chaps from the Antipodes!

I'm sure there are many more that will and can be put forward probably referring to the glories of those paid little to bring glory to our nation, in contrast to the definition for England Football Team- overpaid prima donnas with little passion, skill or will power. (that's done it guaranteed we'll win the world cup now!)

Doing something good

I've been thinking a lot lately (which as you would expect hurt quite a bit) about doing something good.

I don't mean being good, like not eating the 45th scone with cream and jam on, or making sure the car is clean, or not driving over the speed limit.

I don't mean doing something exciting, though it could be,

I mean doing something intrinsically good for both myself and fellow human beings, and I'm not looking to make a grand gesture (done that see Jogle) or give money by the bucket load (always heading towards being a bit short on that front, like everyone else).

So I had a thunk, and a think and rattled the old grey matter and thought what could I do, and then it struck me that I (we) had been through an experience that a lot of people had and that my actions at the time might help someone else if I shared them.

In 2005, as you may well know, we suffered through the pain of miscarriage and as a result I wrote a poem as a release from my personal pain. I wrote it for me totally selfishly and to get me through a particularly rough time and never considered it for any other purpose.

So having done my thinking I have sent my poem to the miscarriage association, the website details of which are shown below and they have considered it worthy of publishing, (see the support section). I've looked on the website and can safely say that they do a brilliant job with little or no recognition,(I certainly wasn't aware of their existence).

My thought for today though is whatever you can do, even if it is merely helping an elderly person across the road (of course ask them if they wish to cross first) please do it, you never know who you might help or how someone will benefit, but I do know that it makes you feel good!

www.miscarriageassociation.org.uk

Minor inconveniences

Have you ever had one of those months were everything seems to happen in slow motion with just a little bit of inconvenience thrown in?

Guess what August is that month! So far I have lost my wallet (in London) including all credit cards, debit cards, stamps etc and return train ticket from said Capital city, left my keys in the door and gone to work, and enjoyed a barbecue in the rain.

Having thought about it the last one is just an English summer!

Everything is as if it is on hold and somebody is taking the wee wee at the controls, almost weirdly it's as if I can see the results I want but not how I get there, which is very odd for August.

I have a solution let's just start the month afresh with a smile, a laugh and just go for it,

All together now, repeat the mantra for a slow motion month,

Bugger it, Bugger it, Bugger it, I'll sort it myself!

or if you prefer if the mountain won't come to Mohammad, then.....

Madness

Why oh Why oh Why????

Why is it that sporting bureaucracies such as the England Cricket team never learn.

Is the destruction of Botham, Flintoff et al not enough??

Why take away the very essence of your best player by making them think!

They are not capable, like all geniuses, they do not think about what they are doing they merely play, so why, why , why give them the captaincy???
I hope for all our sakes that KP keeps his nuts and doesn't as those before become a grey shadow of their former selves.

P.S. Although Michael Vaughan was past it as a player and is another in essence destroyed by the captaincy, even for a Lancy you have to say the boy done good!!

Summer Daze

A cloud like a cotton wool duck, sailed gracefully across a turquoise sky,
The dashing flit of a house martin blinked past,
Bumble bees spread pollen drunkenly from stamen to stamen,
The sun peered shyly over the horizon,
And the wind sighed gently from time to time,
The sweet smelling sound of willow on leather echoed the clink of tankards,
Children playing and the lovers’ laughter failed to disturb the maiden deep in her novel,
The boats on the river ebbed upon the tide and the eight sped past,
A Peacock his fan bared for all to see, strutted as a landlord on his domain,
The man with the camera peered in through the window of the antiquarian book shop,
And humming a simple tune the busker thanked his latest patron,
The bus driver, shirt sleeves rolled in nonchalant fashion, drew away from the stop,
At the same time a student head bowed in concentration, worked on,
Butterflies lay basking upon the nettles,
As sun worshippers lounged upon an emulsioned beach,
The sparrows ran squawking into the dust baths in the borders by the roses,
The ladybirds sampled the green fly,
Ice cream cornets sang as they filled with the chocolate from the ninety nine,
The stranger listened as the bobby in his peaked cap gave him directions,
A young woman in a floral sun dress pushed a laden pram among the cobbles,
As the horse and trap clattered state like behind,
The bells on the church steeple climbed the hour,
And graves full of long gone memories stood silent below,
A stoat his mouth stuffed full with rabbit hurried home,
The salesman sat, mobile phone glued to his ear and perspired in his air conditioned car,
As the berries on the hedgerow ripened,
And I sat quietly the great oak shading me and watched.

Racing

Reverse Psychology

All I have to say is don't read the rest of this post it's drivel!!!

Have you ever noticed the huge positive of saying to someone you "must" do something, whether it be, come home on time, eat your tea, or dance a foxtrot.

Inevitably the answer will be that the exact opposite will be done!

Simple fact of human nature, it damages our egos something chronic if we aren't allowed to make our own decisions.

Why was I not told this before I had kids! Or more to the point why is it never explained that a child has an ego from the age of 3 weeks!

It's damned hard work having to think in reverse psychology land to get anything done, in fact so much so that I'm thinking of writing a book entitled Stick out your bottom lip or throw yourself to the ground, (101 reasons to drive a parent mad) and that's just what I did to my Mum, never mind what my boys are up to.

Did it work? Have you got to here? If you have let me know and I'll make that reason 102!

Long time no ramble!!

Greetings , and welcome to the first of perhaps many further ramblings from the mind of a seemingly middle aged Yorkshireman.

Given the day is of great import to the White Rose clad amongst us it seems an appropriate time to return to publishing inane drivel on the net.

You will see to your right a link to my very last ramblings which I'm led to believe were all in a good cause and of some amusement to my public if only for the food references on a daily basis.

I can safely say that since those exploits, I've sold the velocipede and ridden a grand total of 25.2 miles (mostly with troublesome sons for company), put on around a stone in weight, had trouble getting my arse out of bed on a morn and generally been a pain in it, to all and sundry.

I've changed jobs, somehow lost money in doing so, continued to support the Giants in their demise, bought 3 season tickets for the football for £100, "revised" certain parts of the garden, gained 3 more "offspring" in the form of laying hens and still found time on occasion to bake ginger biscuits.

The world as a whole has gone from a semi-joyful nuthouse (if you ignore the wars and the turmoil etc) to a full blown funny farm run by television "personalities" and people who would be king for a day. Credit crunch, recession, redundancies, oil prices, fuel poverty, negative equity you name it we've got it all and if you add into the mix global warming and the fact no team from the British Isles made it to Euro 2008, God help us we really are knackered and all that in a year.

Still though plenty of reasons to be cheerful, we are starting to get our own eggs, my silly tan lines have all but disappeared, it's stopped raining, smog etc is likely to make the Olympics in China a great springboard for the 2012 Olympics, Boris Johnston keeps us all amused in his role as London Mayor and we have a Chancellor whose eyebrows don't match his hair!

Anyway that kind of sums up what's changed since I last blogged, so next time maybe I'll have something more portentous to say (that is if I can spell it!)