The power of nature at work again, and a £50 reward sounds good to me......Wembury here I come....
Duck soup
Thursday 28 June 2007
Billy and the Jets
One thing about moving house is that it gives you little option but to throw stuff out, or redistribute it around the family. A combination of e-bay dealing, car boot sales and the odd give away has left me fairly well placed to cope with moving or storing the remaining kit though.
Upstairs, for example, I have a bed, a futon which is our sons, a sofa bed, chest of drawers, desk, filing cabinet and two bookcases. Downstairs, apart from the white goods which will get trashed, there are two sofas, a bureau, dining table and the usual assortment of electrical entertainment equipment. So all in all a part load should suffice once I decide where its all going.
Those of you who know the house may notice that one item is missing, namely the 'Joanna', and you would be right. This morning it got carted off to the piano hospital for some remedial work. It is an upright Bechstein, in dark cherry, which has been reconstructed for a hot climate.
This entailed re-enforcing the sides and tops with strips of matching wood and screwing a number of the joints which would normally be glued, to ensure they did not split. The piano dates from about 1907 and as a piece of furniture it is very elegant.
That's very handy as my playing skills are limited, and my objective aimed at allowing me to play it before I was 50 did rather ease into the background when I was faced with some other priorities. As my memory retards with age, I also wonder if I will ever be able to play anything without recourse to the music sheets!
Anyway, the piano will be away for a few weeks as its sound board is cracked and needs repairing. They use pine strips which are inserted into the cracks and then planed flush. The pins and hammers may also need realignment, although the keys and playing tolerances do seem OK still. The only features it lacks are the two candelabra which traditionally adorned the front of the piece. The restoration when they were removed is pretty good so I am not sure if I will get those replaced.
Once it is back in working order it will get shipped up North, where I am sure it will get more use than it does presently. Each piano is numbered , so I will start to do some provenience investigation to see whether it was shipped to an Arabian knight or similar dignitary, all those years ago. The Bechstein factory employs a historian in its plant in Germany which seems like a good place to start. Watch this space for any news.
Upstairs, for example, I have a bed, a futon which is our sons, a sofa bed, chest of drawers, desk, filing cabinet and two bookcases. Downstairs, apart from the white goods which will get trashed, there are two sofas, a bureau, dining table and the usual assortment of electrical entertainment equipment. So all in all a part load should suffice once I decide where its all going.
Those of you who know the house may notice that one item is missing, namely the 'Joanna', and you would be right. This morning it got carted off to the piano hospital for some remedial work. It is an upright Bechstein, in dark cherry, which has been reconstructed for a hot climate.
This entailed re-enforcing the sides and tops with strips of matching wood and screwing a number of the joints which would normally be glued, to ensure they did not split. The piano dates from about 1907 and as a piece of furniture it is very elegant.
That's very handy as my playing skills are limited, and my objective aimed at allowing me to play it before I was 50 did rather ease into the background when I was faced with some other priorities. As my memory retards with age, I also wonder if I will ever be able to play anything without recourse to the music sheets!
Anyway, the piano will be away for a few weeks as its sound board is cracked and needs repairing. They use pine strips which are inserted into the cracks and then planed flush. The pins and hammers may also need realignment, although the keys and playing tolerances do seem OK still. The only features it lacks are the two candelabra which traditionally adorned the front of the piece. The restoration when they were removed is pretty good so I am not sure if I will get those replaced.
Once it is back in working order it will get shipped up North, where I am sure it will get more use than it does presently. Each piano is numbered , so I will start to do some provenience investigation to see whether it was shipped to an Arabian knight or similar dignitary, all those years ago. The Bechstein factory employs a historian in its plant in Germany which seems like a good place to start. Watch this space for any news.
Wednesday 27 June 2007
Ice Cold in Alex
I have constantly been turned down for membership of the Campaign for Real Ale (CAMRA), as I lack the prerequisite sandals, beard and beer gut, although the last of those is starting to develop under my increasingly tight shirt. Nonetheless, I take a keen interest in the subject, and am happy to sample the products whenever an opportunity presents itself.
I have indicated before that maybe there will be a revitalisation of the bitter ale market, when youngsters start drinking what their Grandfathers drink, as a rebellion against their dads, and it was encouraging at 'Camp Dick' last weekend to see the youngsters happily downing foaming pints of bitter.
Imagine my surprise then when I heard that Fuller, Smith and Turner, they of the beloved 'London Pride' are to encourage people to drink their bitter on ice!!! Now before hardened Pride drinkers splutter into their pints, I should reassure them that initial trials will be conducted using bottled 'Honey Dew' bitter, a light summer ale more suited to chilling that Pride itself.
The success of Magners cider in convincing people to drink their product over ice has clearly had an influence here, and it will be interesting to see what take up the Honey Dew approach has.
Personally I find it hard to have a sesh on fizzed up beer or cold lager and am still amazed that so many people can, however, anything that may help the traditional British pint of bitter last the test of time is well worth a try.
Cheers!
I have indicated before that maybe there will be a revitalisation of the bitter ale market, when youngsters start drinking what their Grandfathers drink, as a rebellion against their dads, and it was encouraging at 'Camp Dick' last weekend to see the youngsters happily downing foaming pints of bitter.
Imagine my surprise then when I heard that Fuller, Smith and Turner, they of the beloved 'London Pride' are to encourage people to drink their bitter on ice!!! Now before hardened Pride drinkers splutter into their pints, I should reassure them that initial trials will be conducted using bottled 'Honey Dew' bitter, a light summer ale more suited to chilling that Pride itself.
The success of Magners cider in convincing people to drink their product over ice has clearly had an influence here, and it will be interesting to see what take up the Honey Dew approach has.
Personally I find it hard to have a sesh on fizzed up beer or cold lager and am still amazed that so many people can, however, anything that may help the traditional British pint of bitter last the test of time is well worth a try.
Cheers!
Tuesday 26 June 2007
A staff half
It is ironic that I was in The Ring public house in Southwark, last night, given that Ricky Hatton has just impressed in his latest defence of his Light Welterweight boxing title.
As its name suggests, The Ring has boxing history, although some of that history is debated. Whether John Graham Chambers actually wrote the Queensbury Rules in the bar of the pub is unclear, and the pub never had a boxing ring itself, although there was one just across The Cut from which it takes its name.
The bar is decorated with old pictures of boxers from the past and has other memorabilia to boot. Its main attraction though is that it still gives 'staff halves', a practice which is dying out in drinking establishments now as weights and measures regulation, and tight, margin grabbing landlords try to outlaw it.
Interesting that they are happy to serve a pint with a half inch head on it though......
As its name suggests, The Ring has boxing history, although some of that history is debated. Whether John Graham Chambers actually wrote the Queensbury Rules in the bar of the pub is unclear, and the pub never had a boxing ring itself, although there was one just across The Cut from which it takes its name.
The bar is decorated with old pictures of boxers from the past and has other memorabilia to boot. Its main attraction though is that it still gives 'staff halves', a practice which is dying out in drinking establishments now as weights and measures regulation, and tight, margin grabbing landlords try to outlaw it.
Interesting that they are happy to serve a pint with a half inch head on it though......
Monday 25 June 2007
Ah but we were evicted from our hole in the road.....
Well 'Camp Dick' has been and gone, and what a fine affair it was. The weekend got off to a better than expected start I have to say, when 'er indoors and I found out we had bagged the spare bedroom in the farmhouse. SWMBO was actually in the queue at ASDA buying a tent when I passed on the news. We arrived on Scammonden moor just in time for the evening barbecue and a few pints of Black Sheep gravity fed from an antique barrel cradle. There then followed a tour of the camp site, and a community sing song around the camp fire. I learnt alot about camping life over the weekend, and one such was that there are two types of fires, an English one and an Indian one.
An English one roars away burning logs at a great rate, its too hot to get near and all the warmth dissipates into the atmosphere dirt quick. An Indian one, however, is much smaller, and burns away steadily producing enough heat to warm people and allow them to sit round it. It was an Indian style fire which hosted our sing song.
The singing went well, but I must remember to take a torch next time, it certainly helps to be able to see the words.
Day two started with bacon sarni's and copious cups of tea, before the battle hardened walkers set off for a yomp down to Marsden and the Tunnel End public house. We arrived at the same place some while later via the Piece Hall in Halifax, and Dean Clough mill. Everybody then assembled for the high point of the weekend, pie and peas.
Now they looked great in the pot as you can see, however, the gremlins had been at work while the hike was under way, and the peas had taken on a life of their own, and over cooked. Given there was pork in with them there was no alternative but to throw them away and obtain substitutes. Tesco came up trumps, and so the mint sauce did not go to waste, and by 'eck, they were right grand......
Then followed more singing before rain stopped play. Next morning,after another fortifying breakfast, it was the packing up of tent, and several other lessons as to how that works, the emptying of the latrines, which luckily did not get allocated to me, and the ill fated walk back up the hill. Finally were the goodbyes, and all in all a great weekend. No cats got eaten, although it was a close thing, no humans got bitten, that I know of, the children all ended up with the right parents, but probably a bit too much fresh air for my liking. I am back in the smoke now though so the status quo should soon be restored.
Cardiac Climes
There I am saying how my fitness campaign has started and I suddenly get found out by a bit of a slope in a mates back garden.
Now I have climbed a few things in my time, the Worcestshire Beacon near Malvern, the main street in Clovelley, and the walk between the 8th green and 9th tee at Bovey Castle. None of those though have worn me out like the climb yesterday afternoon. Buggered, I should say so.......
The thing that got me though was Stu did the same walk carrying a ten man tent on his back. I really must try harder!!
Now I have climbed a few things in my time, the Worcestshire Beacon near Malvern, the main street in Clovelley, and the walk between the 8th green and 9th tee at Bovey Castle. None of those though have worn me out like the climb yesterday afternoon. Buggered, I should say so.......
The thing that got me though was Stu did the same walk carrying a ten man tent on his back. I really must try harder!!
Wednesday 20 June 2007
I'm stumped
Well, I seem to be getting back into the fitness regime. In late September last year I ran my first ever 10k. It took place in Chiswick and the course stretched from Kew bridge to Chiswick Bridge and back, finishing at the Chiswick business park in Gunnersbury. it was part of their Yellow Umbrella day I took just over 75 minutes which was OK, but I had aimed for less than 70, still for a first attempt it was fine. My wife, eldest son and his girlfriend were there with banners to cheer me over the last few hundred yards.
I had been very diligent with the training even to the extent of making a New Years resolution to drink 2 litres of water a day, and I had a BUPA training plan to follow up until the last six weeks, when I reverted to the Yellow Umbrella plan.
That was nearly nine months ago, so I thought it about time to recharge the batteries. I do various routes on the roads around Scouseland, some hilly and a couple on the flat, as well as running round one or both of the parks which constitute Birkenhead Park.
It is a little known fact that Birkenhead Park was the design inspiration for Central Park in New York City. I have yet to see Batman or Lincoln Rhyme on my runs though.
When I am in the metrolopse however, I run in the Lensbury club in Teddington. I find the air in Chis a bit too polluted for me these days. Anyway I am up to a steady 2.5K at the moment and will build up to 5k over the next few weeks.
The Lensbury club used to be the pride and joy of the Shell Corporation and one had to work for Shell to be a member, or be a retiree or family thereof. That's how I joined. It is now, however, a commercially run organisation although i think the buildings are still owned by Shell, who are effectively the landlords.
Unfortunately when it went private, it signalled an influx of ankle biters and the design of the club has been changed radically to accommodate them. There are adult only areas but overall it is a family oriented environment. Fair do's to them though, they spend the money on food and drink and activities, all of which are premium price.
The changing rooms in the gym, are segregated for men and women, obviously, but also for adults and children. There is an over 18 men only area and a family changing facility. Elderly gentlemen in Speedo's is however, not a sight I am particularly keen on, so I tend to use the large changing area, and its here I have a problem...or may have uncovered a new law of human behaviour to rival Murphy and Boyle.
The walls are surrounded by lockers, and it is a fact that when you come back into the changing area, the person next to you or beside you is at their locker or has selected that one to use to change. Today I was the only one in there when I changed. When I returned somebody was in the one next door....if they are vacant they have a key in so out of 50 lockers only one did not have a key. You would think that might have given him a clue!!
I have yet to think of a suitable name for this Law, Law 39 is the best I can come up with, but a few pints of Pride may inspire me.
I had been very diligent with the training even to the extent of making a New Years resolution to drink 2 litres of water a day, and I had a BUPA training plan to follow up until the last six weeks, when I reverted to the Yellow Umbrella plan.
That was nearly nine months ago, so I thought it about time to recharge the batteries. I do various routes on the roads around Scouseland, some hilly and a couple on the flat, as well as running round one or both of the parks which constitute Birkenhead Park.
It is a little known fact that Birkenhead Park was the design inspiration for Central Park in New York City. I have yet to see Batman or Lincoln Rhyme on my runs though.
When I am in the metrolopse however, I run in the Lensbury club in Teddington. I find the air in Chis a bit too polluted for me these days. Anyway I am up to a steady 2.5K at the moment and will build up to 5k over the next few weeks.
The Lensbury club used to be the pride and joy of the Shell Corporation and one had to work for Shell to be a member, or be a retiree or family thereof. That's how I joined. It is now, however, a commercially run organisation although i think the buildings are still owned by Shell, who are effectively the landlords.
Unfortunately when it went private, it signalled an influx of ankle biters and the design of the club has been changed radically to accommodate them. There are adult only areas but overall it is a family oriented environment. Fair do's to them though, they spend the money on food and drink and activities, all of which are premium price.
The changing rooms in the gym, are segregated for men and women, obviously, but also for adults and children. There is an over 18 men only area and a family changing facility. Elderly gentlemen in Speedo's is however, not a sight I am particularly keen on, so I tend to use the large changing area, and its here I have a problem...or may have uncovered a new law of human behaviour to rival Murphy and Boyle.
The walls are surrounded by lockers, and it is a fact that when you come back into the changing area, the person next to you or beside you is at their locker or has selected that one to use to change. Today I was the only one in there when I changed. When I returned somebody was in the one next door....if they are vacant they have a key in so out of 50 lockers only one did not have a key. You would think that might have given him a clue!!
I have yet to think of a suitable name for this Law, Law 39 is the best I can come up with, but a few pints of Pride may inspire me.
Tuesday 19 June 2007
Take a letter, Miss Jones
IBM has just announced that it is giving all its temporary secretaries four weeks notice, worldwide, and moving secretarial services to Bangalore. That's going to be a bit of a culture shock isn't it.
Imagine the problems there could be.
Imagine the problems there could be.
- tea and coffee for meetings takes days to arrive
- Christmas parties become less fun and
- the gossip and scandal network falls into disrepair.
I remember a secretary who came in to work each Monday with different coloured hair, depending on which food colouring she had used for the weekend party she had attended. Washing it out was always a problem.
Another secretary regarded herself as a personal friend of Tiger Woods. Her name was Alex, interesting Tiger has selected Alexis as the middle name for his new daughter. Alex was a bit of a girl, and these are the sort of characters which office environments need.
Given, though, that mobile working , hot desking and client based engagements, have removed the whole office social scene, the secretarial changes were a cost saving waiting to happen.
Give it a while and we will all be Avatars conducting business on Second Life. After all there are now over 7 million inhabitants. If you come across Witherspoon Gilks, say hello, that's me.
Friday 15 June 2007
Raw prawn...strewth
Bathroom decor is a very personal thing......avocado or terracotta, but both together? nooooooooo.........
Why why why Delilah?
'Camp Dick' will so be upon us. A convivial gathering of Trickie Dickies eclectic companions will celebrate his 50th birthday in 'Tosser' Quinns field. Its a camping weekend, complete with open fire, basic sanitation and pod tents. There is a yomp over the Yorkshire moors on Saturday to loosen off the muscles, although it finishes at a local hostelry where any remaining aches and pains can be nicely anaesthetised.
I have offered to run off the song sheets, and that got me thinking about the sad demise of communal singing. It really is a thing of the past.
I can remember the man in the white coat, Frank Rea at Wembley who conducted the crowd prior to the FA Cup final. The singing of Henry Lyte's famous hymn "Abide With Me" has been part of FA Cup Final tradition since 1927, but sadly the community singing died out during the 1970's.
'Beastie' , a joe public rugby cove from Old Whitgiftians, entered England supporter folk law, as the leader of the singing in the West bar under the self same stand at the old Twickenham stadium. This tradition was destroyed with the ground as Tony Hallett built his new concrete edifice under which were positioned four soulless bars which were modelled on the wind tunnels used to design the bouncing bomb. Clearly a testament to Halletts RAF background. He built himself a cosy snug in which to entertain his cronies, but 'Beastie' has been superseded by Karaoke machines.....so sad.
How many homes have pianos these days, and more to the point people in the household who can bang out a tune. Family sing songs with Uncle Albert on the spoons, and Auntie Vi on the piano are also a dying event.....
...as are the improptu sing songs around the piano in the pub. These too are vanishing as pubs become 'gin palace' or 'gastro' themed. I still harbour an ambition to walk in a pub, open the keyboard and bang out a tune everybody knows and can join in with. By the time I have learnt to do it, piano's will be extinct.
So Camp Dick looks like it will be a revivalist concert featuring the voices of some of Will Carlings old farts. These talented individuals normally perform on the H22 bus on the way to Richmond station, The Red Cow public house and ,initially, on the free bus to the game. Liberal lashings of London Price, Timothy Taylor's Landlord or a pint of the black stuff make them sound like the four tenors!
I have offered to run off the song sheets, and that got me thinking about the sad demise of communal singing. It really is a thing of the past.
I can remember the man in the white coat, Frank Rea at Wembley who conducted the crowd prior to the FA Cup final. The singing of Henry Lyte's famous hymn "Abide With Me" has been part of FA Cup Final tradition since 1927, but sadly the community singing died out during the 1970's.
'Beastie' , a joe public rugby cove from Old Whitgiftians, entered England supporter folk law, as the leader of the singing in the West bar under the self same stand at the old Twickenham stadium. This tradition was destroyed with the ground as Tony Hallett built his new concrete edifice under which were positioned four soulless bars which were modelled on the wind tunnels used to design the bouncing bomb. Clearly a testament to Halletts RAF background. He built himself a cosy snug in which to entertain his cronies, but 'Beastie' has been superseded by Karaoke machines.....so sad.
How many homes have pianos these days, and more to the point people in the household who can bang out a tune. Family sing songs with Uncle Albert on the spoons, and Auntie Vi on the piano are also a dying event.....
...as are the improptu sing songs around the piano in the pub. These too are vanishing as pubs become 'gin palace' or 'gastro' themed. I still harbour an ambition to walk in a pub, open the keyboard and bang out a tune everybody knows and can join in with. By the time I have learnt to do it, piano's will be extinct.
So Camp Dick looks like it will be a revivalist concert featuring the voices of some of Will Carlings old farts. These talented individuals normally perform on the H22 bus on the way to Richmond station, The Red Cow public house and ,initially, on the free bus to the game. Liberal lashings of London Price, Timothy Taylor's Landlord or a pint of the black stuff make them sound like the four tenors!
You on yer own luv?
Last night I stayed at the Charlcote Pheasant hotel in Warwickshire. A lovely setting for a hotel, but the venue doesn't quite do it for me. The public areas are a bit dingy, with the bar small and lacking in atmosphere. The beer was fairly poor as well.
The Charlcote Pheasant is a tourist and business hotel, although it may not have too many singletons like me. Coachloads of Japanese or groups attending for conferences seem to be the norm.
City centre hotels do, however have a large percentage of single occupants and as a result, single diners. last night rather than be 'billy no-mates' in the hotel I found a rather pleasant pub, the Boars Head, where I had convivial conversation with the landlord and a couple locals.
Now, why do hotels not cotton on to the fact that people need people. I think there is a market for hotels to employ a conversationalist who hosts a large table, say for eight people, in the hotel restaurant. Single business people could be offered the option to sit with the host, and fellow singletons, and feel part of the place.
Who knows, the next night a few of them might choose to dine or go out together. The communal table can then host a whole new intake.
If I was away for any length of time, I would love to offer my services as such a table host.
The Charlcote Pheasant is a tourist and business hotel, although it may not have too many singletons like me. Coachloads of Japanese or groups attending for conferences seem to be the norm.
City centre hotels do, however have a large percentage of single occupants and as a result, single diners. last night rather than be 'billy no-mates' in the hotel I found a rather pleasant pub, the Boars Head, where I had convivial conversation with the landlord and a couple locals.
Now, why do hotels not cotton on to the fact that people need people. I think there is a market for hotels to employ a conversationalist who hosts a large table, say for eight people, in the hotel restaurant. Single business people could be offered the option to sit with the host, and fellow singletons, and feel part of the place.
Who knows, the next night a few of them might choose to dine or go out together. The communal table can then host a whole new intake.
If I was away for any length of time, I would love to offer my services as such a table host.
Tuesday 12 June 2007
Monopoly bored
I have just visited the new mega casino at the old Empire in Leicester Square. the last time I went, it was a night club, and Van Halen were the cabaret. We took a bunch of American rugger players from Old White RFC in Atlanta, Georgia. two double decker buses were arrange to get the chaps home safe, although i seem to remember alot of the local ladies took it upon themselves to ensure the Yankee boys were looked after well into the night!
The casino has been billed as London's answer to Vegas. Hmmm, I suspect, therefore, that nobody from the publicists has every been there. It is just a casino, albeit quite a large one, but is in no way comparable with the style of casino seen in Vegas or Atlantic City. If the battle for the first mega casino in Britain is going to provide the winning city with the Vegas experience it will need to try much harder than the Empire.
There are, however, some nice touches in the Empire. There is a Texas hold'em room for the popular poker game which seems to be taking University campus by storm, two good looking restaurants and a chill room presumably for you to go sob into the soft furnishings when you have lost all your stash. There are weekly cabaret nights, and show girls at weekends. but like all casino's, the big plus is reasonably priced drinks late into the night, in a mixed age environment which is hassle free.
There were lots of Chinese punters around, but not a huge Arab presence as there is in their Rendezvous outlet in Mayfair. I nearly traded my wife and youngest daughter in there once, for eight camels and an Abra.
The casino has been billed as London's answer to Vegas. Hmmm, I suspect, therefore, that nobody from the publicists has every been there. It is just a casino, albeit quite a large one, but is in no way comparable with the style of casino seen in Vegas or Atlantic City. If the battle for the first mega casino in Britain is going to provide the winning city with the Vegas experience it will need to try much harder than the Empire.
There are, however, some nice touches in the Empire. There is a Texas hold'em room for the popular poker game which seems to be taking University campus by storm, two good looking restaurants and a chill room presumably for you to go sob into the soft furnishings when you have lost all your stash. There are weekly cabaret nights, and show girls at weekends. but like all casino's, the big plus is reasonably priced drinks late into the night, in a mixed age environment which is hassle free.
There were lots of Chinese punters around, but not a huge Arab presence as there is in their Rendezvous outlet in Mayfair. I nearly traded my wife and youngest daughter in there once, for eight camels and an Abra.
Monday 11 June 2007
Pass the roasties......
The weekend was dominated by the Chiswick based ' Bedford Park festival'. Now in its 40th year, the festival raises cash for the maintenance and restoration of several churches and other sites in and around the Bedford Park suburb. The suburb is mainly comprised of Norman Shaw built houses and is pretty expensive to live in even by Chis standards.
The festival was opened by Mary Nightingale on Saturday, but we wandered along on Sunday. when we arrived, a children's talent show was under way, and I have to say I blame the parents. Many of the little Nicola, Tristan and Chloe's who performed, did their best, but should have confined their singing to their bedrooms, where, armed with a hairbrush mike and a radio 1 backing track they could bang out their repertoire to their hearts content.
Fair play though to Brenda Edwards, ex of the X-Factor who was one of the judges, she took the stage for half an hour to inspire the little wannabes.
After wandering round the fair, we finally arrived at the tombola stall. Interesting prizes this year. 40 top Chis restaurants (and a few not so top) had been coerced into donating a meal for two as prizes. We had a couple of tickets, but no cigar I am afraid.
Mores the pity as I like a good lunch, particularly on a Sunday. Nothing beats the good company, good wine and large portions of roast food, in an atmosphere filled with the gentle hubbub associated with a room full of people enjoying themselves. You know the lunch is going well when the waiting staff ask you if you would mind moving to the bar while they set up for the evening!
We are a bit stuffed in Chis now as our standard venue, Southey's, closed down a year or so ago. John and Sally are off around the world a few times as they enjoy their well earned retirement. It was the venue for my 50th and did us proud.
The 'better' restaurants in Chis, namely Le Trompette, Sam's and High Road House have tried to fill the void, but nothing really has hit the spot yet. There are many more eateries to try so I am confident one will eventually score big. In the meantime the local hotel restaurant has introduced its own Sunday lunch, and as the hotel hosted big burly rugger players, I would anticipate the portions to be substantial. I feel a trip coming on.
The festival was opened by Mary Nightingale on Saturday, but we wandered along on Sunday. when we arrived, a children's talent show was under way, and I have to say I blame the parents. Many of the little Nicola, Tristan and Chloe's who performed, did their best, but should have confined their singing to their bedrooms, where, armed with a hairbrush mike and a radio 1 backing track they could bang out their repertoire to their hearts content.
Fair play though to Brenda Edwards, ex of the X-Factor who was one of the judges, she took the stage for half an hour to inspire the little wannabes.
After wandering round the fair, we finally arrived at the tombola stall. Interesting prizes this year. 40 top Chis restaurants (and a few not so top) had been coerced into donating a meal for two as prizes. We had a couple of tickets, but no cigar I am afraid.
Mores the pity as I like a good lunch, particularly on a Sunday. Nothing beats the good company, good wine and large portions of roast food, in an atmosphere filled with the gentle hubbub associated with a room full of people enjoying themselves. You know the lunch is going well when the waiting staff ask you if you would mind moving to the bar while they set up for the evening!
We are a bit stuffed in Chis now as our standard venue, Southey's, closed down a year or so ago. John and Sally are off around the world a few times as they enjoy their well earned retirement. It was the venue for my 50th and did us proud.
The 'better' restaurants in Chis, namely Le Trompette, Sam's and High Road House have tried to fill the void, but nothing really has hit the spot yet. There are many more eateries to try so I am confident one will eventually score big. In the meantime the local hotel restaurant has introduced its own Sunday lunch, and as the hotel hosted big burly rugger players, I would anticipate the portions to be substantial. I feel a trip coming on.
Sunday 10 June 2007
Rockin' all over the world
I played golf on Thursday. Nothing unusual about that you say, and generally you would be right.
I arranged to meet my old mate from work, Rog, as we had a bit of business to conduct. Rog took the Kings shilling from IBM some time ago, lucky bugger, and it is rare these days to catch him in the UK. Catch him I did though, and as we approached the 1st tee at Wyke Green golf club, a member known to Rog, came up, said hello and joined us for a friendly three ball.
Now I had never met Kevin Hurry before, or even seen him much around the club, but it turned out that in the late 80's, early 90's he was a top DJ. So I have googled him. Seems he shared gigs with Paul Oakenfold, who I had heard of, and was part of D.O.P and a big player in Guerilla records. He had to stop DJing on doctors advice, so Rog told me, and now works with his dads business hanging silk wallpaper. A very specialised job by all accounts.
I am no stranger to playing with music celebs, as I had the pleasure of playing with Andrew Ridgley, yes, of Wham fame, in St Enedoc some years ago. I recall how passionate he was about this golf, to the extent that after slicing two consecutive drives into a cow field at the 14th, he proceeded to snap his £200 driver over his knee.
When we ordered him a club sandwich in the bar afterwards and asked him if he wanted it cut in half, he nearly saw the funny side of it.
As an aside, the Ladies section of my golf club is referred to as Dyke Green by other clubs in the area. I can't begin to think why.
I arranged to meet my old mate from work, Rog, as we had a bit of business to conduct. Rog took the Kings shilling from IBM some time ago, lucky bugger, and it is rare these days to catch him in the UK. Catch him I did though, and as we approached the 1st tee at Wyke Green golf club, a member known to Rog, came up, said hello and joined us for a friendly three ball.
Now I had never met Kevin Hurry before, or even seen him much around the club, but it turned out that in the late 80's, early 90's he was a top DJ. So I have googled him. Seems he shared gigs with Paul Oakenfold, who I had heard of, and was part of D.O.P and a big player in Guerilla records. He had to stop DJing on doctors advice, so Rog told me, and now works with his dads business hanging silk wallpaper. A very specialised job by all accounts.
I am no stranger to playing with music celebs, as I had the pleasure of playing with Andrew Ridgley, yes, of Wham fame, in St Enedoc some years ago. I recall how passionate he was about this golf, to the extent that after slicing two consecutive drives into a cow field at the 14th, he proceeded to snap his £200 driver over his knee.
When we ordered him a club sandwich in the bar afterwards and asked him if he wanted it cut in half, he nearly saw the funny side of it.
As an aside, the Ladies section of my golf club is referred to as Dyke Green by other clubs in the area. I can't begin to think why.
Thursday 7 June 2007
Calling a spade a spade
I notice that Big Brother has removed a contestant for using a racist word in conversation with another member of the house.
I have no reason to judge the decision to remove her, but it does raise this whole area of political correctness once again.
I am reminded of Mike Newell, the Luton football manager, indicating the use of a female linesman was , quote, "tokenism - for the politically-correct idiots, we have a problem in this country with political correctness and bringing women into the game is not the way to improve refereeing and officialdom.
In this case had he referred to the situation as positive discrimination, rather than political correctness, he may well have found more support for his tirade.
With regard to language, however, I feel we old 'uns are discriminated against, as many of the words we traditionally used , have been deemed as potentially offensive or been given alternative meanings.......nobody ever sits on a poof anymore, and 'gay day' now represents a festival for the pink pound brigade. I remember getting a serious ticking off from the RFU for referring to the Bank of England rugby team, which was largely populated with South Africans, as Kaffirs. In my day Kaffirs was the term used in the City to refer to Krugerrands, so I thought it quite apt. Apparently the word is now banned in South Africa as it is highly offensive.
It is also interesting that youngsters are regularly inventing new language which is often community or age group specific and is considered part of the natural evolution of communication. The flowery language of the 50's and 60's is now consigned to Wikipedia and other such language repositories.
Plus ca change
I have no reason to judge the decision to remove her, but it does raise this whole area of political correctness once again.
I am reminded of Mike Newell, the Luton football manager, indicating the use of a female linesman was , quote, "tokenism - for the politically-correct idiots, we have a problem in this country with political correctness and bringing women into the game is not the way to improve refereeing and officialdom.
In this case had he referred to the situation as positive discrimination, rather than political correctness, he may well have found more support for his tirade.
With regard to language, however, I feel we old 'uns are discriminated against, as many of the words we traditionally used , have been deemed as potentially offensive or been given alternative meanings.......nobody ever sits on a poof anymore, and 'gay day' now represents a festival for the pink pound brigade. I remember getting a serious ticking off from the RFU for referring to the Bank of England rugby team, which was largely populated with South Africans, as Kaffirs. In my day Kaffirs was the term used in the City to refer to Krugerrands, so I thought it quite apt. Apparently the word is now banned in South Africa as it is highly offensive.
It is also interesting that youngsters are regularly inventing new language which is often community or age group specific and is considered part of the natural evolution of communication. The flowery language of the 50's and 60's is now consigned to Wikipedia and other such language repositories.
Plus ca change
Tuesday 5 June 2007
Ten more, just ten more.....
I was enchanted by the iridescence of the lichen clinging to the stone built walls on the way into Liverpool, Lime Street yesterday afternoon, on the stretch between the terminus and Edge Hill. The way the ferns battled for a foothold and the slimy green moss-like plants spread endlessly over the rocks was a true example of how nature strives to reclaim anything man made, at the slightest opportunity.
Passing through Edge Hill always brings a smile to my lips. The term 'Edge Hill' in Scouseland is usually a reference to 'coitus interruptus' given it is the stop before the end. I suspect most towns or cities have a similar expression.
They also say that the Liver bird statues atop the Liver building on the pierhead, flap their wings when a virgin passes. I always ensure the girls and I pass a different way to avoid any embarrassment on their or my part!!!
They are in Spain at the moment, on a family holiday, affectionately entitled 'The Cla
mpetts on Tour'. They are at a family oriented all inclusive resort and given my wife Maxines mum and dad, brother and sister, two children and nephews are there, she finds herself daughter, mother, sister and auntie all at the same time. I doubt Elly May had that problem, The Beverly Hillbillies were probably all those things all the time as well as being husband and wife!!. She went sleep walking last night and locked herself out of her room....a likely story!!
mpetts on Tour'. They are at a family oriented all inclusive resort and given my wife Maxines mum and dad, brother and sister, two children and nephews are there, she finds herself daughter, mother, sister and auntie all at the same time. I doubt Elly May had that problem, The Beverly Hillbillies were probably all those things all the time as well as being husband and wife!!. She went sleep walking last night and locked herself out of her room....a likely story!!My mate Ray found himself sleep texting at the weekend, but that's a story for another day.
Sunday 3 June 2007
....and its good night from him
I am reminded of a sketch by the Two Ronnies, when i saw them live at the palladium in the '70s. it was based on the 6 O'Clock news on a day when nothing happened.......Ronnie Barker as only he could, put the right inflection on the delivery when saying 'the worlds oldest man, Cecil Braithwaite' pause 'is still alive'. You had to be there!
Well today seems a bit like that as far as I am concerned. The only thing of interest was a press cutting i received from the Estate Agent, showing my house as listed in the London Evening Standard. They must be getting a bit frustrated with me at the moment, as usually they expect to sell houses almost as soon as they get to market. They then accept the commission fee and do diddly squat for the money.
I am a great believer of the theory that if the property sells on day 1, its too cheap, and one can always drop the price, but it's difficult to put the price up. So far my agents have printed and photocopied the brochures, then they had to print the glossy version, then put the ad in the local Chiswick paper and now the Standard.
We are still getting viewings so I am happy to sit and wait at the moment until the right offer comes along. For those who know the street, the bigger houses on the other side of the road have started to go for over £1m. Time will tell what mine will end up doing.
Well today seems a bit like that as far as I am concerned. The only thing of interest was a press cutting i received from the Estate Agent, showing my house as listed in the London Evening Standard. They must be getting a bit frustrated with me at the moment, as usually they expect to sell houses almost as soon as they get to market. They then accept the commission fee and do diddly squat for the money.
I am a great believer of the theory that if the property sells on day 1, its too cheap, and one can always drop the price, but it's difficult to put the price up. So far my agents have printed and photocopied the brochures, then they had to print the glossy version, then put the ad in the local Chiswick paper and now the Standard.
We are still getting viewings so I am happy to sit and wait at the moment until the right offer comes along. For those who know the street, the bigger houses on the other side of the road have started to go for over £1m. Time will tell what mine will end up doing.
Saturday 2 June 2007
Show me the way to go home
I used to think I was a long way from London when I drove past a Morrisons supermarket, although with their takeover of Safeway and the consequent rebranding of the stores, that is no longer the case.
Today I know I am up early when I follow a night bus along Chiswick High Road!! I have volunteered for some client supervision at 05:30 in Hoddesdon in North London, so an early start is required. Trouble is Hoddesdon is one of those pleasant market towns which isn't any more, and there is nowhere open within miles, so caffeine levels are running on empty.
More's the pity as I could do with a boost after the experience of Wembley stadium last night.
First the good news. Door to door it took me 35 minutes to get there, Brazil played some attractive football, the Brazilian women were in good form, and yes, the stadium itself is impressive. It is huge. Bigger than Twickenham, bigger than Croke Park and seems about the same size as Stade Francais, with which is shares a similar shape and feel.
Now the less than good news....Steve McLaren clearly watched a different game to me when he said on the radio this morning that England played as a team and it was a good performance. The side lacked pace and creativity, assets which the Brazil team showed in spades. Smith and Owen were ineffectual, and I hate to say it but Beckham looked a class above. Robinson is awful when handling crosses (or not) and his kicking was poor. Lampard is a waste of space.
The thing, however, which, got my cousin reaching for double Rhodiola, was the journey home. The stadium emptied pretty well but the queues for the various railway stations was painful. There appeared to be no extra trains, there did not seem to be any new developments at the stations which allowed for extra platforms, or indeed wider platforms, and the journey home took nearly two hours. Having taken six years to construct, would it have been too much to ask of Transport for London to have improved the support infrastructure? With Red Ken in charge it is probably asking too much....agggh I feel another rant Blog coming on.....Luckily when I did get back, Morans Hotel bar was still buzzing so I was able to have a couple of glasses of ale before retiring.
I was right about the lager, as there did not seem to be any bitter taps in the bars, and I also observed that footie fans seem to be more follicley challenged that their rugger counterparts. It does, however, seem to be out of choice.
Would I go again? Well to see Argyle or the Spurs definitely. Otherwise if there is no corporate hospitality or helicopter transfer available, I will probably give it a miss.
Today I know I am up early when I follow a night bus along Chiswick High Road!! I have volunteered for some client supervision at 05:30 in Hoddesdon in North London, so an early start is required. Trouble is Hoddesdon is one of those pleasant market towns which isn't any more, and there is nowhere open within miles, so caffeine levels are running on empty.
More's the pity as I could do with a boost after the experience of Wembley stadium last night.
First the good news. Door to door it took me 35 minutes to get there, Brazil played some attractive football, the Brazilian women were in good form, and yes, the stadium itself is impressive. It is huge. Bigger than Twickenham, bigger than Croke Park and seems about the same size as Stade Francais, with which is shares a similar shape and feel.
Now the less than good news....Steve McLaren clearly watched a different game to me when he said on the radio this morning that England played as a team and it was a good performance. The side lacked pace and creativity, assets which the Brazil team showed in spades. Smith and Owen were ineffectual, and I hate to say it but Beckham looked a class above. Robinson is awful when handling crosses (or not) and his kicking was poor. Lampard is a waste of space.
The thing, however, which, got my cousin reaching for double Rhodiola, was the journey home. The stadium emptied pretty well but the queues for the various railway stations was painful. There appeared to be no extra trains, there did not seem to be any new developments at the stations which allowed for extra platforms, or indeed wider platforms, and the journey home took nearly two hours. Having taken six years to construct, would it have been too much to ask of Transport for London to have improved the support infrastructure? With Red Ken in charge it is probably asking too much....agggh I feel another rant Blog coming on.....Luckily when I did get back, Morans Hotel bar was still buzzing so I was able to have a couple of glasses of ale before retiring.
I was right about the lager, as there did not seem to be any bitter taps in the bars, and I also observed that footie fans seem to be more follicley challenged that their rugger counterparts. It does, however, seem to be out of choice.
Would I go again? Well to see Argyle or the Spurs definitely. Otherwise if there is no corporate hospitality or helicopter transfer available, I will probably give it a miss.
Friday 1 June 2007
"I think you've had enough old son......."
I am off to Wembley tonight for the England v Brazil game, and this, together with some incidents over the weekend, got me thinking about why football followers seem to be so much more aggressive than those of other sports.
At the family barbecue I referred to, there were a mixture of young people. Some from Liverpool had gone to school with Kieran at St Mary's, a Christian Brothers school, some who had gone to Merchant Taylors, next door . Others where at Uni (or Poly ;-)) in Liverpool and had come from other parts of the country, and some were work colleagues of Kieran from the Wirral and around. They all mixed extremely well, and people commented on how well mannered they were.
One poor girl had had a hell of a few weeks with boyfriend problems, and she got absolutely trashed. Rather than leave her to fall about the furnishings and smash the ornaments, two of her flat mates took her home, put her to bed and returned later to the party.
Sometime after that one of the St Mary's lads got some abuse from another of the boys there, and the St Mary's lads closed ranks and suggested to one of the rogues friends that it was time he helped him home, which he did. This passed off unnoticed by most people at the party.
It reminded me of my own experiences as an 'old fart' who regularly attends rugby internationals at Twickenham, in Dublin and in Paris. There are usually six of us, and we do like a drink. It is fair to say though, that in the 25 years we have been acting the fool, we have at worst made bus travel between Twickenham and Richmond noisy, and the ride out of Dublin on the Dart a joyous singing occasion. Any activity likely to provoke violence, either physical or verbal, is quickly stamped on by the group, and the offender parked in a corner and told to behave.
Why then is it not the case at football matches that there is not this same self policing? The tribal nature of the supporters seems to add an 'edge' to the whole atmosphere. It can't be associated purely with the Public school, grammar school, secondary school differential outlined yesterday, as many of the perpetrators are from good stock?
Personally I blame the lager, as we all know London Pride has no alcohol in it!!!
At the family barbecue I referred to, there were a mixture of young people. Some from Liverpool had gone to school with Kieran at St Mary's, a Christian Brothers school, some who had gone to Merchant Taylors, next door . Others where at Uni (or Poly ;-)) in Liverpool and had come from other parts of the country, and some were work colleagues of Kieran from the Wirral and around. They all mixed extremely well, and people commented on how well mannered they were.
One poor girl had had a hell of a few weeks with boyfriend problems, and she got absolutely trashed. Rather than leave her to fall about the furnishings and smash the ornaments, two of her flat mates took her home, put her to bed and returned later to the party.
Sometime after that one of the St Mary's lads got some abuse from another of the boys there, and the St Mary's lads closed ranks and suggested to one of the rogues friends that it was time he helped him home, which he did. This passed off unnoticed by most people at the party.
It reminded me of my own experiences as an 'old fart' who regularly attends rugby internationals at Twickenham, in Dublin and in Paris. There are usually six of us, and we do like a drink. It is fair to say though, that in the 25 years we have been acting the fool, we have at worst made bus travel between Twickenham and Richmond noisy, and the ride out of Dublin on the Dart a joyous singing occasion. Any activity likely to provoke violence, either physical or verbal, is quickly stamped on by the group, and the offender parked in a corner and told to behave.
Why then is it not the case at football matches that there is not this same self policing? The tribal nature of the supporters seems to add an 'edge' to the whole atmosphere. It can't be associated purely with the Public school, grammar school, secondary school differential outlined yesterday, as many of the perpetrators are from good stock?
Personally I blame the lager, as we all know London Pride has no alcohol in it!!!
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