The View from the House on Haunted Hill, Saturday 31st October

Happy Samhain, it is the night when lots of creepy men are out on the prowl trying to give you the willies so watch out ladies! (Actually sounds like any normal night in Mansfield).

I will produce a 'No Trick or Treaters After 8pm Please' poster for the front door which usually works although we don't have many treats left..we bought a big bag of Haribo's but Mrs B is a Haribo junkie! It should reclassified as a dangerous sweet.

Now, talking of scary things, is anyone any good at deciphering dreams? Over the last couple of nights, I have had the same dream and I want to share it with you to see if anyone can help decode the hidden meaning.

I am in a big rambling old house, lit by candles and there is a roaring fire. Everyone shuffles about in the gloom not talking or really acknowledging the presence of anyone else. I am standing outside of a very important looking door and when it creaks open, there sat behind a desk is a man who look like a cross between Bruce Forsyth and a stork. He looks over his glasses down his beak and gives me a real telling off for talking to "you know who". Apparently talking to "you know who" is frowned upon.

Anyway, I go back to work and walk into this room filled with elderly men, suddenly I realise I am in some kind of home. I walk to a fireside chair, which is being guarded by two big men with rifles and there sat looking into the fire is the former President of Zambia, Kenneth Kaunda. I nod to him and he nods back and then he apologises if I got into trouble for talking to him. I just nod, not wanting to get into bother with the Forsyth Stork thing.

Kaunda then puts his hand in his pocket and hands me a note, and asks me to take it to Julius Nyerere in the Tanzania suite. I take the note and start to walk away and as I do Kaunda says 'thank you' to which I reply 'OK' and whoosh, I am magically back outside the big door and the cycle starts again.

So, why am I dreaming about a home for retired African leaders and what is in the note?

As Toyah would say, It's a misterwe!

Answers on a post card please...enjoy Halloween.

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On this day in 1926, the famous magician and escapologist Harry Houdini died. He had been injured a few days earlier when he was punched in the stomach without warning by some clever chap called Whitehead. What you might not know is that Whitehead and his business partner Milia Pimple, were trying to get free publicity for a new range of spot remover creams. One of his guinea pigs was a distant relative of mine named Sebum, he was an ugly man of this there is no doubt, but he had a heart as big as a bucket. Sebum desperately wanted to make friends but his ugly face, covered in spots and blemishes, made people turn away, so he went to Whitehead and Pimple to offer himself as a guinea pig.

Now Whitehead and Pimple spotted the potential of a before and after campaign, and seeing Houdini had such lovely smooth and flawless skin, decided to ask him to be the after. What they didn't know is that Houdini had a moisturising contract with a rival firm, Oil of Ulay.

When Whitehead approached Houdini and asked for his help he produced his Oil of Ulay and Whitehead was so incensed he punched Houdini in the stomach. Four days later he was dead.

And that's a fact!

The View from the Hill on Friday 30th October

Mischief Night in the USA, the day where young people irritate the shit out of the neighbourhood by doing silly things, unfortunately it has crossed the pond and so now we get it here and then tomorrow we have Trick or Treat...humbug. Why do young people have to be so annoying?

I'm joking of course, some young people are almost human.

Some Young people are away in foreign lands fighting and sometimes losing their lives. That seems the ultimate trick played on them and I still don't see any treat in store.

I want to commend Deborah Smalley and her family for the excellent way they have dealt with the defacing of the British Legion posters which has a picture of her son Damian being held by his widow and little boy. It simply wants to remind you to buy a poppy and some heartless idiots hijacked it for their own political ends.

The dignity and pride shown by this family is an example to us all, and the manner in which they fight to keep the memory of Damian alive is commendable...wear your poppy with pride and just remember this is not just about the dead and injured from last century, this is about now, today, no trick just some treats for the soldiers and their families if you simply buy a poppy.

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On this day in 1938, Orson Welles staged that now infamous broadcast of War of the Worlds on US Radio, and sent most of America into panic - people thought it was real! And these are now the same people who run the world, scary isn't it!?

And that IS a fact!

No jokes today. See you tomorrow, now go and buy a poppy.

The View from the Hill on Thursday 29th October

I pruned my friends list on Face Book yesterday, over 100 friends and so few reading this blog so I thought, screw you!

I didn't feel bad about it, I did it with a clear conscience and if they don't like it they can ask to be friends again can't they.

Thank you sister of mine for poking me in that direction with your blog.

Now, should men be allowed to cry? This is something I heard on the news this morning, talking about men crying at the cinema...and this is news?

I cry at the cinema, I cry at home, I have no trouble in crying in fact Mrs B and I were watching an old episode of the West Wing the other evening ( we are ploughing through the box set ) the one where Mrs Landingham has been killed and the President is making that marvelous speech in the Cathedral after the funeral...I cried, again!

I cried when I went to see Gran Torino and yesterday at a funeral I was taking, I saw many men cry. I don't think it made them lesser men, in fact I think it made them more human.

So, come on boys, grab your hankies and let yourselves go now and then, have a good sob.

If you need a hand, I've heard this new Disney Pixar film called Up is the one to jerk those tears from your manly eyes.

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On this day in 1618 Sir Walter Raleigh died, well when I say died, he actually got his head chopped off, now I bet that bought a tear to his eye!

Sir Walt was a famed explorer and adventurer, he will always be pictured placing his cloak across the puddle so the Queen could keep her feet dry and for bringing the potato and tobacco to the shores of the UK. Actually when you think about it, he should be hated because he shortened our life expectancy, with his chips and fags.

But enough of this frivolity, back to some serious facts, my second cousin Elswick worked at the bike factory, you know Raleigh bikes, and it was his idea to commemorate this day by naming the new bike they had just launched, the Chopper. It was to symbolise that Raleigh had stood head and shoulders above his contemporaries, that is until this day when he just stood shoulders above them due to the Chopper. Well done Elswick!

And that's a fact!

The View from the Hill on Wednesday 28th October

First of all congratulations to all concerned in the operation that delivered the new baby to our friends in the early hours - but honestly you didn't need to text us at such a bloody early hour, I would have been just as happy finding out at 7am as 5.30am.

I know, I am a miserable old bastard, I actually have the tee shirt to prove it.

It's another slow news day, hence the fuss being made about branding ponies and MP's expenses, I see the opportunity for some news overlap here, perhaps we should brand MP's?

It amazes me how we are such an ill informed nation when we have more news now than we ever used to have, but of course rolling news just means recycled news and has given rise to an army of plastic faced preening presenters who actually get on my tits - especially the pouting princesses on BBC Breakfast!

Oh, I am in a mood this morning - the blog generator isn't working properly, and other little problems have left me feeling irritable, especially as there are some people in my cyber life who need a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.

So it looks like I'm going to be Mr Grumpy today, I will put on a brave face later for work although I already feel my stress levels rising after the debacle of last Friday - all they have to do is switch the bloody music on when I press a button, it's not rocket science is it!?

Calm down dear, it's only your life.

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On this day in 1940, American writer Susan Harris was born.Susan who? Well she wrote some of the funniest comedy shows that I recall from my childhood like Soap and Benson and then she created The Golden Girls. I watched The Golden Girls with great relish because I loved Sophia Petrillo, the way that she just said what she thought and damn the consequences.

Anyway, Susan Harris based the character of Sophia on my great grandmothers half sister, Theresa Mangacavallo. Let me tell you about her - picture it:

Sicily 1922 and a beautiful peasant girl is walking home after a day of treading olives into oil. Her feet are sore but very soft. On her way home she comes across an old man struggling to get his ass up a hill. The old man smiles a toothless smile at her and then politely asks if she would help by tickling his ass a little. Theresa looks at the old man and his ass and then answers by saying "fuck off you old perv, I'm shagged out after a hard day pressing olives, drag your own scabby ass up the hill". She then waves goodbye and carries on home. The old man dies.

And that's a fact!

The View from the Hill on Tuesday 27th October

Must try harder - that's how I feel today after a less than brilliant blog yesterday. My only defence is that I have been feeling under the weather and not my usual sparkly self - still feel like shit this morning but trying to adopt a more positive mental attitude.

I love the theatre and the cinema and both have provided me with great memories over the years, but whilst in the theatre the re-envisioning of a well known piece is refreshing, I am a little scared when I hear that they are remaking a classic film.

Why do they need to remake True Grit?

That film is a classic, the film in which John Wayne played Marshall Reuben J 'Rooster' Cogburn, and earned himself a long overdue Oscar. With great lines like "fill your hands you son of a bitch!"

No, I don't like remakes - I have yet to see a remake that improved in any dramatic way on the original. James Cameron's Titanic may have been full of effects but it lacked the honesty and heart of the Kenneth More film, A Night To Remember for example.

I think they have Jeff Bridges lined up to play Rooster Cogburn and Matt Damon and Josh Brolin are thought to be in the film too, big names and good actors but I suspect that it will lack something special, and it is that magic that John Wayne bought to the screen in that role, we saw it again when he made The Shootist, the sort of pathos that only an actor who is really nearer death than he would like to admit, can muster.

I don't suppose I can stop them remaking the film, and I bet I'll go and watch it but I will also do my best to hate it, for the sake of my memories and the legend that was John Wayne.

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Today in 1914, Welsh poet and author Dylan Thomas was born. His most famous piece of work, Under Milkwood is a personal favourite of mine, I have the audio book in the car with the voice of the late great Richard Burton. The story is set in the village of Llareggub, which as you can see is actually Bugger All spelled backwards. I was born in the village of Llihyendeg which is twinned with Llareggub and I now live in Dleifsnam which is near Mahgnitton.

When I was growing up, I went to loohcs in Gnolnottus and I dah a tep god called Tterb, and although I like a drink, especially a ssalg of eniw, I will never be as dessip as Dylan Samoht was when he wrote Rednu Klim Doow!

Dna Taht's A Tcaf!

The View From The Hill on Monday 26th October

Cannot believe those idiot twins are still in X Factor! And that Danyl was in the bottom two!!

What sort of dimwits watch this programme - hold on, I take that back -what sort of morons vote after watching the programme!

Sorry to say that in watching last nights results show, the gap between the contestants and real talent was shown in great detail when Mr Buble sang - so smooth and easy, he is a great performer, but apparently an arrogant arsehole, oh well you can't have it all.

I have met some famous people who were very nice and some who you thought would be nice were quite rude. I think I my have told you about how disappointed I was when I met David Soul, but Raymond Burr was a real nice gentleman - Bernard Cribbens was snitty, Pat Phoenix generous, and best of all I sat for about an hour one night with Stuart Sherwin, from dad's Army and Crackerjack (look him up on IMDB).

We watch these people and we imagine we know them I suppose, we do get to know an awful lot thanks to the newspapers, but deep down, like with all of us, they have that little bit of themselves they try and keep hidden, their private thoughts and feelings.

And then there is Katie Price! She hasn't heard of the word private.

No earth shattering revelations this morning from me, just a little bleary eyed view on the world - and I haven't switched the news on yet!

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On this day in 1973, Austin Healey was born, the famous sports star was named after the family car due to a friendship between his family and an eccentric cousin of mine named Bonneville. Bonneville himself had been named after a car and he crusaded throughout the council estates of Wolverhampton to have other kids named for cars - he was of course barking mad but some fell for the pleadings of this lunatic, including Mr and Mrs Healey.

Douglas Adams had previously met with Bonneville, hence the character of Ford Prefect in Hitchhikers Guide...but then we should think about the the other poor kids who had to go to school with names like Chrysler Alpine and Aston Martin, Buick LeSabre and Volufrago Bimbo. I'm just glad my branch of the family didn't follow this trend as we had an Austin Princess.

And that's a fact!

The View from the Hill on Sunday 25th October - the day the clocks went back.

As much as you can try to teach dogs to tell the time, the whole concept of having an extra hour in bed seems to have eluded them, hence a 6am call from two elderly ear flapping hounds.

Anyway, they are both fast asleep again now after feeding their faces and I am wide awake so here goes.

What a gay day! This is how I shall recall yesterdays sojourn to London. La Cage was spectacular, Barrowman was brilliantly butch and camp all at the same time, and apart from the fear that some chap had died in the audience, all went perfectly well.

Actually some old chap fainted and for a moment we thought they would have to stop the show, selfish old fart, why he couldn't have died/fainted on the Tube I'll never know.

Mrs B and I were accompanied on our trip by Adam and Sean, one plain homosexual and one transvestite homosexual, and we had a great time, lots of inappropriate laughter at other peoples expense, lots of silliness and a bottle of champagne at St Pancras didn't help the journey home, good job we were not in the quiet car or we might have been thrown off.

I love our trips to London, in a few weeks time we are off to see Kevin Spacey in Inherit The Wind, and seeing shows in the West End has a different feeling to seeing it at the local theatre, especially as at the local theatre you usually get Abba tribute acts not Oscar winning stars!

Anyway, lots of work to catch up with today, as well as a trip to Tesco I suspect.

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On this day in 1854, The Battle of Balaclava was in full swing, during this battle the now infamous Charge of the Light Brigade took place. It was a bit of a balls up to say the least, as the light brigade took a wrong turn at the direction of one of their lookouts and ended up charging down this valley with cannons to the left of them and cannons to the right of them. This is all recorded for posterity in the poem by Tennyson. The history of the event involves such people as Lord Raglan and Earl Cardigan, Major Trenchcoat and Captain Pashmina.

What you might not know is that the soldier who directed the cavalry down the wrong valley was the same man who later popularised the balaclava helmet, a distant relative, Sgt Dick Green ( son of Dock ). He wasn't the brightest penny in the piggy bank and so had been put on a hill top out of the way, his only job to point the direction for the cavalry to follow. But sadly he was distracted by a local native girl and her beautifully knitted woolly hat, and whilst he was fingering the lovely girls attire he asked where she got it from and she pointed towards the local outlet of Balaclavas 'R' Us. Dick then pointed his finger in the same direction and said "Over there?" just as the cavalry passed; they saw his little pinky pointing down the girls valley and the rest is history.

And that's a fact!