Do People really live like this?

Whilst the two blogs below are amusing do they really have any point of contact with reality?

I just have never had these discussions and were I to do so I’d be out the door in a flash with bags packed! Union rules are declared before one even contemplates a relationship, there are your jobs and my jobs and get out of my bloody way.  Forget dates, presents, celebrations, shopping trips I don’t do them.  If you do, do it by yourself, no reciprocation.   Just make damned sure there is a never ending supply of red wine and cigarettes in the house, failure to do so incurs all night shopping trips and displeasure!

No discussion is to be tolerated on the mundane, boring or tedious.  If you can’t be amusing, witty or verbally vicious, keep your mouth shut!  AND GET OUT OF MY KITCHEN!  Only the boy was ever allowed in the kitchen as he was used to the speed of a commercial operation. lumbering sclerotic attempts to help, not appreciated if you want to eat today!

Every husband has been fully appreciative of the need for an extremely large greenhouse to keep himself out of the divorce court, they need not know anything about plants but are allowed to admire them from afar, much more appreciated than personal comments which are not allowed. (Comes under tedious!)

I have never understood this constant need for compliments, flattery, clinging and ego bolstering.  All should stand on their own two feet with supreme indifference as to what any other thinks of them. If that floats your boat, fine, if not, fine! Piss me off once too often and I’m out of here!

And finally do not accommodate sexual peccadillos of partners. I once allowed a  shack up with some advertising executive in Henley, he committed a solecism beyond.  I got home first to my apartment.  Threw every one of his possessions out of the window including his stereo. Once he collected it all and stuffed it in his car I threw rocks at his car and managed to break all his rear lights and back window, a splendid evening’s work!  Subsequently he came unstuck in South Africa by banging a coloured woman and ended up in jail and being deported, all very entertaining!

Personally If I were to suffer such crap as below for about 15 minutes I’d change the model so damned fast it wasn’t true, or , even better, live by yourself!

O Zangado, you asked for it….

NEW EVENING CLASSES FOR MEN

 

ALL ARE WELCOME

OPEN TO MEN ONLY

Note: due to the complexity and level of difficulty, each course will accept a maximum of eight participants

The course covers two days, and topics covered in this course include – 

Continue reading “O Zangado, you asked for it….”

A gentle kick up the , erm, fundament…

…delivered by JM Esq in another place prompts me to explain why i have been AOL for a while.

Things have not been all sweetness and light of the last few months chez Bravo. My son’s engagement went South, triggering a relapse in his condition, which has not been fun. You probably all recall that I was quite optimistic about his development last time, but this latest setback has been quite grim. The boy was actually led to the point of contemplating suicide at one point – going so far as to climb the stairs to the top of the building where he, (thankfully, still,) works here in London and looking over the edge…

I am grateful that, through it all, we have still managed to keep talking, even about that incident, but it has not been easy. The need to concentrate on providing the support the boy needs has, erm, how should I put this… rather upset my own plans, so I am still here in London rather than Jakarta or Cape Town, both places where I have had offers of contracts, or in Cyprus working on my book project and playing with my grandchildren.

I hope that does not sound grudging – it is meant to be merely descriptive as I have no hesitation at all in making whatever effort is needed to give the boy the support he needs But it’s hard. The problem is twofold. First, it is impossible to understand what he is going through. I have read as much as I can, and talked to as many people as I can, but, I think, it remains impossible to fully understand, and therefore empathise with, what he is suffering – I’m sure we have all been ‘depressed,’ at times, but clinical depression is another thing entirely. The second problem derives from that lack of understanding, because one is permanently walking on eggshells; what to say, what to do, what advice to give, when to stroke and when, if ever, to kick Rse a little bit.

Anyway, enough of my problems. The bottom line is that I have not felt myself to be fit for civilised company over the last months – I don’t count the pages of the DT blogs, where JM administered the afore-mentioned gentle encouragement – as civilised, but a place where I could vent a little on the AGW whackos who attempt to shut down dissent from their ridiculous religion there.

The good news – apart from England retaining the Calcutta Cup yesterday, having handed a right shellacking to the All Blacks in the Autumn – is that we seem to be making our way, if slowly, out of the slough of despond. We have engineered a complete image makeover for the boy, haircut, lose the beard, new wardrobe, and the fortuitous arrival of his childhood best friend from Hong Kong and a conscious determination on the boy’s part to escape his prison seem to be pointing to a new strength. He’s going out more often, making new friends and generally beginning to behave like a ‘normal’ 30 year-old in London with all its opportunities and challenges, for which I am truly grateful.

So, there it is. I’m going to be here in London for at least the next twelve months – I’m in the process of negotiating a contract here, admittedly below the level i would usually consider, but I need the distraction 🙂 Anhyhoo, Bravo’s back…

No contest

The first test of the three match series started on Friday, February 1st, Graeme Smith’s 32nd birthday. It also marked the 100th time that ‘Biff’ had captained a test team, (99 SA, 1 world XI) what a remarkable achievement!

Other captains noted for their longevity in the job include Border (93), Fleming (80), Ponting (77), Lloyd (74)

Smith won the toss and decided to bat, it’s never easy on the first day up at The Wanderers, Protea’s wickets fell at regular intervals but I was buoyed by a comment from Andrew Samson that an average first innings score up there was ‘only’ 260. Average is rarely good enough but I was reasonably satisfied with our 253 at the end of the day.

Who could possibly have predicted yesterday morning’s carnage Pakistan 49 all out! Just slightly better than NZ’s 45 last month and Oz’s 47 in Cape Town (Nov 2011.)

S.A. ended the day on 207/3, a lead of 411.

A bit more batting practice for our middle order today, improve those averages, get some time at the crease, build confidences where necessary and then unleash Steyn, Philander, Morkel and (perhaps) Kallis.

Play resumes at 10:30 our time (08:30gmt)

Here We Go Again

It’s that time of the season when I get this absolutely certain feeling that Scotland are going to do well in the Six Nations. Said feeling has come really late this time. It usually starts on New Year’s Day about 2 am after I’ve had a fair sufficiency.

This year it suddenly kicked in about five minutes ago and it probably won’t last much longer than 4.05 pm this afternoon as events unfold at Twickers.

Whatever. It’s a fine feeling while it’s there. And, when it goes pear-shaped, I can always blame Salmond. I’ll bet the sleekit little scunner will be sitting there in a freebie seat praying for an English win by at least 100 points so that he can cast it up as yet another act of oppression by the Auld Enemy.

C’mon Scotland. 

Fantasticks- February

I have been transcribing the strange calendar from the book Fantasticks, by Nicholas Breton (1554-1626). It is out of print, and a modest readership has been following each episode. So here is February.

 FEBRUARY

It is now February, & the Sun is gotten up a Cocke-stride of his climbing, the Valleyes now are painted white, and the brookes are full of water: the Frog goes to seeke out the Paddocke, and the Crow and the Rooke begin to mislike their old Makes: forward Connies begin now to kindle, & the fat grounds are not without Lambes; the Gardiner fals to sorting of his seeds, and the Husbandman falls afresh to scowring of his Ploughshare: the Terme travellers make the Shooe-makers Harvest, and the Chaundlers cheese makes the chalke walke apace: The Fishmonger sorts his ware against Lent: and a Lamb-skinne is good for a lame arme: the waters now alter the nature of their softnes and the soft earth is made stony hard: The Ayre is sharp and piercing, and the winds blow cold: the Tavernes and the Innes seldome lack Guests, & the Ostler knows how to gaine by his Hay: the hunting Horse is at the heeles of the Hound, while the ambling Nagge carrieth the Physitian and his footcloth: the blood of Youth begins to spring, and the honour of Art is gotten by Exercise: The trees a little begin to bud, and the sap begins to rise up out of the root: Physic now hath work among weak bodies, and the Apothecaries drugges are very gainfull: There is hope of a better time not farre off, but this in it selfe is little comforte: and for the small pleasure that I find in it, I will this briefly conclude of it: It is the poor mans pick-purse, and the misers cut-throat, the enemy of pleasure, and the time of patience.

Farewell.

Notes

The “makes”, which the crow and rook grow tired of, are mates; but the word here is not a mistake for “mate”. It comes from an Old English word related to “match”.

I am told that the bit about the Chaundlers (Chandlers?) cheese making the chalke walke apace refers to the account of money owing being chalked up on the “Slate”.  The Slate was in common use in my youth at my grandfather’s bakery – some entries never got fully erased.