If you don’t know what it is, don’t bother to read on or you’ll be terminally bored.
I’m not a computer games kind of person. Really, I’m not. I probably could be if I made an effort but I’m not sufficiently competitive to be gripped while there are other things to be done – cycling, writing, brushing duckweed off the pond and stuff. Continue reading “Tetris”
My neighbour found out that her dog could hardly hear, so she took it to the veterinarian.
The vet found that the problem was hair in the dog’s ears. He cleaned both ears, and the dog could hear fine.
The vet then proceeded to tell the lady that, if she wanted to keep this from recurring, she should go to the chemist and get some “Nair” hair remover and rub it in the dog’s ears once a month.
The lady went to the chemist and bought some “Nair” hair remover.
At the register, the pharmacist told her, “If you’re going to use this under your arms, don’t use deodorant for a few days.”
The lady said, “I’m not using it under my arms.”
The pharmacist said, “If you’re using it on your legs, don’t shave for a couple of days.”
The lady replied, “I’m not using it on my legs either. If you must know, I’m using it on my schnauzer.”
The pharmacist said, “Stay off your bicycle for about a week.”
**** sent to me by a friend. He knows my interests pretty well 🙂 erm not hair-removal, the dogs and cycling, just to be clear!
Going to Cheltenham Jazz Festival had some unexpected benefits – one of them being a cheap CD of Frankie Laine’s Greatest Hits.
The sound of ‘The Kid’s Last Fight’ took me right back to Sunday mornings in the kitchen, mum peeling potatoes at the sink overlooking the garden while joining in with the chorus while through the open back door, Dad could be heard whistling along from the workshop end of the garage.
A chunk of happy carefree childhood, right there, back in the room with me. Continue reading “Classical gas”
You know how it is when you’re returning to Blighty having been abroad somewhere hot on holiday?
You’ve had a week or two of sand, sea, parched-looking potato fields (I’m thinking Cyprus) and dusty tracks and you’re gawping out of the little window of the aircraft at beautiful Britain laid out below and feeling inordinately fond of it with it’s patchwork fields and lakes and stuff and as the plane descends for the landing you can’t believe just how very green it all is?
Well it was like that today when we were cycling in the Forest of Dean. I kept saying, inanely “I can’t believe how GREEN everything is! Just look at the green. No, but seriously, it’s really REALLY green. Beeoooootiful and green.”
Well DT man can only put up with so much of that stuff and eventually dropped behind me so that he was out of earshot. But I didn’t care. I just kept thinking it anyway. This time of year is the most spectacular time – when all the young leaves and fresh ad vibrant with colour, the big soft foxglove leaves are out and the bluebells have pushed up and are a haze of subtle blue with buds coloured up and waiting to burst open. Continue reading “So very very green…”
Bali police round up the gigolos
By Kathy Marks, Asia-Pacific Correspondent
Sunday, 2 May 2010
For years they have been a familiar sight: the bronzed young men who patrol Bali’s main beach, offering friendship – and often more – to female foreign tourists. But now the “Kuta cowboys”, as they are known, face an uncertain future, thanks to an uproar provoked by a warts-and-all documentary.
Cowboys in Paradise has infuriated tourism officials on the Indonesian holiday island. Twenty-eight suspected gigolos, described by police as “young, fit-looking and tanned”, were rounded up and questioned following a raid on Kuta Beach last week.
An all-female task force of officers of a certain age carried out the raid.
The men are still missing.
It’s official. I’m going trampling daffodils in the wood.
I’ll probably wear wellingtons, which for their shoe size, have greater surface area, I feel.
The idea is to inflict the maximum amount of damage. Obliterating them, ideally. Continue reading “Trampling daffodils”
I got caught in a bog yesterday on the bike.
I thought it was just a bit of soft ground but it was genuine pedal-stopping, smelly bog. For a couple of seconds, I was balanced there stationary, thinking “Bugger. This hasn’t happened for years!” before gloop – one foot went deep down into the soft stuff above the ankle.
There are some things you can ride through and some things you can’t.
I haven’t encountered unrideable territory for some time. I blame the expedition leader, Bob, who was determined to go off-piste to stop me and my pal V. slacking and chatting. He was successful in that, at least.
CB’s pic of the bridge with the mud pool underneath it reminded me how things used to be in the Forest of Dean, before they constructed the cycle trails and invited the world and his wife and kids to come and cycle there. Continue reading “Mud, mud, glorious mud….”
My garden is smallish and nothing special at all – but it is organic. Always has been, for 20 odd years.
I don’t worry about snails and slugs. They can get on and do what they do. I don’t grow hostas any more because the slugs loved them just too much and turned them into lace, which while pretty and unusual, wasn’t the point.
Bird are what I worry about; the extraordinary and disappointing change in the bird landscape of the average garden. Continue reading “Green stuff”
There is a shop at Langland Bay selling little packages of fluttering paper flags – Welsh, Scottish, English, and the Union Jack.
Seeing them last weekend, childhood memories flooded back and I had a sudden urge to buy a bucket and spade. Remembering in time that I am a little mature to be crawling around the beach patting upturned buckets, I wondered if I should take some flags home with a bucket and spade for next-door’s baby.
Ok so what if he’s only a month old and has only just managed head control? It won’t be long before he’s ready. Next time I’ll get him some. Buckets and spades and beaches are all essential for child development. No child can ever be bored on a beach…surely? Continue reading “Life’s sometimes a beach”
I’m no big fan of Jonathan Ross but Friday night’s show was an unexpected goody.
For me, it was one of those moments of synergy, when the sum of two parts is so much greater than the whole.
There in the green room, side by side on the sofa were two of my big TV character heroes; Jack Bauer and Stringer Bell.
Stringer (Idris Alba) had dressed down for the occasion. In The Wire (a multi-stranded, brilliant, award-winning series about the dark under-belly of Baltimore) he is tall, built, groomed and sleek, the elegant, ruthless, thinking face of a brutal drug-dealing empire. Continue reading “Bell and Bauer”
Boadicea's Chariot 
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