Tuesday, November 29, 2005


Mum was 80 last week.

As a treat, we took her to Blackpool. She used to work there before the war. She was a gymnast and rode elephants in the Blackpool Tower Circus until war broke out. The circus is still running; two performances a day, but sadly no elephants any more. Mum says they used to exercise them on the beach. The kids must have loved it.

We tried to get into the area below the ring where they used to keep the elephants, but were disallowed. The guy running the circus however seemed genuinely moved.

Blackpool itself must be the home of tat. It's everywhere. I expected to see "kiss me quick, squeeze me slow" hats. However, the motto is now "kiss me quick, shag me slow".

Oh dear!

Friday, November 18, 2005

Alphabet Abuse

A leaflet dropped through our door today describing the local Farmers' Market as "Fresh N Local".

The local fish and chip shop is "Fish N Chips"

I hate that. Why not use the frigging apersand if they want to save space? (incidentally, this mark (&) got its name because it was invented by a bloke called Frederick Amper).

That last bit was a pathetic joke. Sorry.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Health Matters

I picked up my small carrier bag full of drugs from the chemist shop yesterday.

I tend to go along with the medical establishment. If a doctor suggests I take something, I generally do. It's the same thing with financial advisors. If they advise something, then generally I do it. He's the expert after all. If you didn't take his advice, there'd be fuck all point in asking him. However I did notice that just after I took his advice last time and bought a couple of policies, he buggered off for a holiday in the Seychelles or somewhere.

I have diabetes, high blood pressure and high cholesterol as well as other "complications" best left out of this blog. But I'm fit, honest. I can run marathons (well half-marathons), I am slim and can run up flights of stairs without getting puffed out.

However, I still need a carrier bag full of drugs every few months.

With the carrier bag this time was a note saying that I am overdue for a blood pressure check. I'm going to the surgery today to have one.

Is there really any point in having a blood pressure check once every nine months and when it's a bit high (as it will probably be), them saying "well it's probably because you're a bit anxious" or something?

No, I'm not fucking anxious.

We'll see again in nine months time.

Monday, November 14, 2005

Ungrateful Bastard

Some bloke has been cured from the HIV virus.

If someone told me I was HIV positive, I'd be well pissed off. Devastated (and amazed) in fact. If then someone told me I was cured, I'd be so happy, I'd be kissing everyone in sight (without exchanging body fluids obviously).

What does this bloke do? He tries to sue the health authority for wrong diagnosis.


Now it seems he may have within his body a clue for a cure for AIDS. He could help to save not just thousands but millions of lives. So what does he do? He doesn't cooperate with the health authorities but sells his story to the journalists.

How come the one person who may be able to save the world turns out to be an utter twat?

On the other hand, I may have got it wrong. He may be a nice bloke.

Green Speed

I've just heard that they want to clamp down and fine motorists who exceed 70mph on motorways.

This is not to save lives, but to save greenhouse gases.

Now my green credentials are fully up to date and also I am in the minority that actually drive at 70mph on the motorway.

However, I know bollocky nonsense when I see it.

Friday, November 11, 2005

Planning Update

The very nice man from the planning authority rang us back.

He said we should have applied for planning permission when the Straw Bale House was built (we know that and took the risk), but provided it has been there over four years (it has - it has been there six), and provided nobody lives in it (they don't), and we don't have a water supply to it (we don't) then they will be taking no action.

This is what is referred to as a result.

Presumably, they have told Disappointing Neighbours this. I imagine they is less than pleased. I just hope that they don't sink to even lower levels and become even more disappointing.

If they do, I'll have to send them Christmas presents or something to cheer them up.

Thursday, November 10, 2005

More Party Fallout

The consequences of the Git Of A Son's party continue.

We have a large Straw Bale House in the garden. Yes it's built of straw bales. And it's large. It's a large place for the teenagers to hang out. Sometimes they stay over there. And sometimes they use it for parties.

During GOAS's party, the disappointing neighbour (as opposed to the one who is NOT disappointing) called the police. They didn't come. They couldn't be arsed, and I don't blame them. Despite this, the DN claimed that the police turned up. They didn't. How disappointing is that?

As ever, we smiled at DN and apologised for the noise. This apparently didn't satisfy him. I guess he is still sore from the time when prospective son-in-law showed him his arse. So what did he do? I'll tell you...

DN went to see NDN and said "wasn't the party dreadful" (it wasn't). "Those kids were in your garden you know" (they weren't) "setting fire to the trees" (come on...) "don't you think that we ought to do something about the Straw Bale house?"

To her eternal credit, NDN told DN, in the politest terms possible to bugger off (she's a good woman. Old money. So she didn't use exactly those words obviously).

A few days later we had a man from the local planning authority turn up. He said they had received a complaint about a Straw Bale House having a verandah built recently (it hasn't). He seemed quite nice and I chatted to him about things but we have to wait and see.

One final point: if you read my blog, you will remember that my neighbour died in the summer (NDN's husband). As DN was passing in his car, out of courtesy, I told them that sadly he had died. "I never met him" came the reply.

That's right. In eight years, they never met the guy. The very first time they went to talk to them was when GOAS had a party asking them to shag their friends.

How disappointing is that?