Friday 24 December 2010

A Christmas Message

If Herod had employed reliable labour all those years ago to find and kill the baby Jesus this would just be another cold weekend in December - instead here we are again, Christmas. The salt and the pepper say hello....

There are three stages to Christmas:

First there is the stress of the pre-Christmas rush when we all dash about like headless turkeys trying to snatch up bargains to give to our loved ones. We then battle through the aisles of our favourite supermarket trying to make sure we have plenty of sprouts to cook and then to throw away after nobody eats them. We then 'deck the halls' with bright coloured lights and find we have the stress of running to B&Q when we discover one of the bulbs has blown. There are parcels to wrap and post, there are cards to address, there are stamps to buy and then there are post boxes too full to take your cards leading to more stress!

But eventually it all comes to an end and the pre Christmas period is past and we have the day itself to experience...more stress.

Locked in a house all day with people you spend all year avoiding - being forced to share your television with people who only watch documentaries on coastal erosion or Eastenders.  Trying to put on a brave face when you open the presents that leave you almost speechless with shock - "wow, a nutcracker shaped like Katie Price - thanks so much." Or perhaps you might get a cook book by Heston Blumenthal.

Trying to remember who likes breast, who likes stuffing, who likes extra gravy and then trying to find something for Aunty Mary who is on a three day diet of beetroot and runner beans.

Holding back from the urge to devour a whole bottle of Pinot in one big gulp just to get you through that long long evening - it is like an eternity only longer and you begin to feel like Nelson Mandela on Robben Island but he at least had a guard to talk to.

Eventually the day passes and you begin to think that the stress must now begin to lift, just a little. Wrong.

Now you have the stress of joining the queues in the sales to exchange the Katy Price nutcracker for something you really want, something with a little class like a Katherine Jenkins nutcracker.

Then you have to make sure you de-christmas by twelfth night or bad luck may follow throughout the year...I say leave the decorations up, what's the worst that could happen? You just survived Christmas!

The stress of the festive season hits us each and every year and still we have not learned our lesson - and I think the time is coming when we should reflect on the true meaning of christmas and try and model our celebrations around that simple message surrounding the birth of a little baby in a stable.

We should forget the rushing around and the over eating and the terrible presents and we should all go to a stable and wait for the miracle to happen. In the present cold snap it might be an ideal place for the elderly, they could all huddle around a pile of steaming manure and keep the cold at bay by sleeping under a cow, her udders warm with milk - a cosy bed and a midnight snack all in one.

Yes, we should all find a stable and if you don't know where your local stable is, just follow the bright light in the sky - it's not a star it's the Police helicopter but it passes by the stable occasionally so you'll be OK.

If it's too foggy to see the searchlight from the chopper then follow the Shepherds, they live at No.42 and they always spend Christmas in a stable bare - yes, they are naturists but don't worry about the nudity because in the cold weather there is nothing to see, poor Mr Shepherd looks like he has a walnut whip instead of a penis.

If you don't know the Shepherds you could always follow the three wise men - but if you live in Mansfield don't hold out much hope of finding them anytime soon as they are out searching for a virgin and so far they have struck out.

Yes, Christmas would be so much more tolerable in a stable where the only cause for stress would be what can you do with all the myrrh? Oh wait - now where did I put that cook book by Heston Blumenthal?

Yes, I'm a miserable old sod, but it makes me happy - I just joined the board of BHS  (Bah Humbug Society) and on a serious note this christmas will be a sadder day than usual as Mrs B and I will be thinking of Jake and Danny and missing them a lot.

Anyone who has had a bereavement this year will no doubt find the gloss of christmas somewhat diminished and my heart goes out to you all.

************************************************************

The biggest cause of stress this year was what to get Mrs B for Christmas - she doesn't need any more diamonds and she has no room left for handbags and she doesn't want a 42'' plasma screen - bugger.

What she asked for was impossible to get - Take That tickets...there was actually more chance of Jesus knocking on the door and inviting us to have lunch with God. Securing one of the golden tickets was as likely as the news headlines on Christmas Day starting with 'Pope caught tasting flavoured condoms'. Brings new meaning to the hymn, O Cum All Ye Faithful.

In the place of Take That tickets I got Mrs B a new key for the front door. Not just any key mind you, one with her initial on. What more could a girl want?

Gary, Howard, Mark, Jason and Robbie came the loud reply.

But she has me - and in many ways I embody all that she likes about the ageing boy band.

I am a talented writer like Gary Barlow, I have a well muscled dancers physique similar to that of Howard Donald, I have the boyish charm of Mark Owen, I have the charisma of Robbie Williams and finally, like Jason Orange, I have a superb singing voice!

Perhaps I should just wrap a ribbon around myself and say to Mrs B on Christmas morning - Take That!


So there we have it, a little Christmas message of hope and joy radiating out to all who have taken the time during this busy period to pause and reflect...now open the sherry and get blotto and don't forget a turkey is not just for Christmas - it's for Boxing Day too with bubble and squeak.

I hope you all enjoy your time, with family, with friends, with whoever it is that brings you joy - by the time you read this I will have jetted off to sunnier climes  and I will be relaxing in my thong...which reminds me, where did I put those sprouts?

Only joking, why sit in an airport for Christmas when you can sit at home, getting drunk and laughing at all the poor people who were dreaming of Disney and theme parks and the only carousel they will get to see is the one with their luggage on going round and round and round...

I shouldn't laugh really...but I will. A little present to myself, laughing at the unfortunate circumstances of others, what better present can their be?

Merry Christmas -  Tesco own brand mince pie anyone?

Sunday 5 December 2010

Bad Mood - Stand Well Back.

Time for my fortnightly pronouncement on the state of the world - and I am in pain and a bad mood so somebody is going to get it in the neck and before you all start to think about replying with any negative comments about what I say - I'd rather you just didn't - if you don't like it then don't come back and read it because to be honest I didn't write it for you, I wrote it for me!

First let's deal with this weather - it snowed and it was cold and it meant some kids got to stay off school, some people got to stay off work and some of us carried on the best we could and as one of my Facebook friends correctly pointed out, some of those who couldn't battle into work did manage to battle their way to Wetherspoons!

We don't cope well with the bad weather, those marauding up and down the aisles of Tesco's become even more feral than normal, fighting to the death for the last white sliced and bags of oven chips - and you could tell that the troglodytes were panicking about their bellies because they even bought healthy food like wholemeal bread!

Mrs B and I couldn't even get in the car park of Sainsbury's because of the queuing 4x4's and yummy mummies rushing to buy cous cous and Nigella's latest cook book.

Luckily we have this thing called a freezer and we managed to survive for a few days on the meagre rations we had stored away over many years.

And the roads...not easy to manage when covered in snow and slush but passable with some common sense. What a shame then that so many leave their common sense in the toilet. Idiots.

So stuck in the house, plenty to watch on the TV - Gillian McKeith eventually recognised for her conniving ways booted out of the jungle - the singing Afghan wins, quite right too.

Wagner booted out of the X Factor and as I write this I predict Tesco Mary has sung her last song and it's time to check out (see what I did there).

We had the sad death of Leslie Nielsen which meant Airplane and The Naked Gun were on - reminding us all how to laugh at silly thing and how good that makes you feel. RIP Shirley.

And then there is the internet, a window on the world for all those stranded at home - we can check up on our friends and see how they are coping with the weather and the constant and irritating way that the BBC refer to it on the news as The Big Freeze!

And we can even try and make a difference in the world by raising awareness of issues such as World Aids Day, bullying and homophobia and supporting the viral campaign to raise funds for charities that in turn support children who are the victims of abuse.

Now let me preface my next remarks by saying that I am not politically correct, I say things on here that make the hair on a bald mans back stand on end but I am in pain and I am in a VERY bad mood so...


I am fed up with so called friends of mine using the word 'gay' as a form of abuse and I hereby state that I will in future be forced to mention this to you in the strongest possible terms and if you do not desist I will delete you as a friend.

And with those of you too stupid or cynical to take the time to think things through with regards to the viral campaigns that we see on Facebook (like the present one which is a totally laudable campaign to stop violence against children) I shall have something to say about that as well.

In fact let me tell you that in a previous life I was once sent to a house in which a father had killed his baby son, he had kicked him to death and he had then stuffed his tiny dead body under the cot. It was one of the worst memories I have.

If just one person who took the time to find a cartoon character from their happy childhood memories posted that picture and then took the next step and donated money to one of the charities supporting the campaign and that money paid for someone to work with a man who has poor parenting skills and that led to a child not being abused or kicked to death - then it was worth the bloody effort!


So, go and enjoy your life - a life in which you don't have to think too much.

Monday 25 October 2010

Wednesday 13 October 2010

Does Mr Wolf really know the time?

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”...these famous opening words from A Tale of Two Cities have been buzzing around in my head lately.

Time - we can’t escape it, it is with us every step of the way in our journey through life.

This morning, I was awoken by a noise, I couldn’t quite make out what it was - I opened my eyes and looked at the clock to see what time it was and to my surprise saw it was ten past three then twenty past three, then half past three - all in about ten seconds! The hands of the clock were whirring round at a remarkable speed. It was quite a shock to see time fly past, and all sorts of thoughts rush through your sleep befuddled head. Is this your life flashing before your eyes? Has H G Wells been fiddling with his time machine? Is that Mrs B snoring or a terrible Morlock heading my way?

Eventually it dawned on me - the alarm clock is one of those radio controlled devices and no doubt it was just re-aligning itself with the atomic clock in Geneva or some equally exotic location, like Pleasley.

It eventually slowed and stopped at 5.25am.

I think time has been on my mind because of recent events  including three funerals for children who didn’t seem to have had their fair share of time.

Reading the list of names at the crematorium yesterday and seeing the ages, from 4 months to 98 years - it really does make you think.

None of us are promised a tomorrow and making the most of today has been a mantra for me but no matter how hard you try, no matter how hard you tell yourself that it is the life in your days not the days in your life that count - none of us want to think about our days running out.




In this midst of all this ‘worst of times’, comes some events which show the other side of the clock face - I am presently arranging a naming ceremony for a new arrival in a family,  and then on the news today, seeing those Chilean miners being rescued, surely the ‘best of times’ for them and their families.

And it is then you realise that in one minute across the world, millions of people will be experiencing different things. In one day, about 300,000 people will die and about half a million will be born.

One minute is therefore 6.8 billion minutes...and the clock is ticking.

“Time sweeps everything away. Like the ceaseless waves of a mighty sea, it clashes upon the shore of each human life, seizing the artifacts and elements with which we signify our existence; and - with neither disdain nor regard - it spirits them away. When it takes our sorrow or our despair, we may begin to believe that it is merciful. But when it steals beauty and innocence and charm and joy, we know that it is without compassion. Like the sea, time has no heart. It sweeps away everything. And neither our resistance nor our regret can stay its flow”.

I used this poem by Robert Sexton in the very first funeral I wrote - I have never used it since and I am not sure why. Perhaps its honesty is not what people really want at a funeral?

But the honesty of time is something we should not fear, accepting that we cannot change it, we should embrace it and so today I just ask you to acknowledge time - you can let it be a clock that ticks away the seconds of your life, or you can let it be the metronome that sets your pace as you journey on...the choice is yours.

There are more quotes about time than almost anything else - but here a couple for you to think about.

“Time is the fire in which we burn”.  Delmore Schwartz


“Someone once told me that time was a predator that stalked us all our lives. I rather believe that time is a companion who goes with us on the journey and reminds us to cherish every moment, because it will never come again”.  Jean-Luc Picard

And finally - the full glory of Mr Dickens...

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way.


Thank you for taking the time to read my blog - now bugger off the lot of you!

Sunday 12 September 2010

What's Happening?

Good morning dearly beloved, or good (apply appropriate time reference) if you are reading this at any other time of day than morning.

Morning has become that most fruitful of work times for me, the house is quiet and having briefly watched the news and made a cup of tea, I settle down to write. I have plenty to write this week with five ceremonies to prepare and on top of that, I have a trip to London on Thursday when Mrs B and I will be going to The Barbican to see the 25th anniversary production of Les Miserable.

Mrs B and I fell in love with Les Mis when we saw an excerpt on the Royal Variety show in 1985, we bought the tape and played it endlessly before eventually booking tickets in 1988, or was it 89? Anyway, it was when we moved house from Branston to Lincoln - and the move had not gone as expected and all the furniture was in storage and the tickets where safely locked away in the sideboard which was locked in a container! We explained this to the box office and they re-printed some tickets for us and away we went.

We arrived and found our seats and sat waiting patiently, this was still one of the shows of the day and demand for tickets was high, but as we sat we were approached by another couple, middle aged and middle class in matching his and hers mackintoshes. "You are in our seats!" he said, flashing his tickets in front of my face - sure enough the seats indicated on his tickets were the same as the seats we were occupying.

I showed our tickets and the man called over an usher who took the tickets from the man, his wife standing behind him quietly clutching her handbag, her programme and a bag of wine gums. The usher looked at the tickets, then looked at our tickets, then looked back at the couple and said "yes, you tickets are for these seats but not for today, you are here a week early".

The couple were given what I would now presume to be house seats and we all enjoyed the show.

Now I didn't intend telling that story, anyway, we are off to see Les Mis.

We have been to the theatre a lot lately, well I have. The Country Girl, Sisters - Such Devoted Sisters, Slave to the Wage and now, out of the blue, a call to audition for a new play by a local writer. The play is for three actors, one male, and all play many roles, ages, physicality's. Goodness knows why I'm going, the only age I play is childish, and the only physicality I have is slow and creaky. But if they want to see the old magic, I suppose I could get it out for them to marvel at.

Yes, I have a full week ahead, Mrs B and her group of alcoholic friends require me to make then a vegetable curry on Tuesday evening and I will have visits and other matters to deal with - but I complain not. Life goes on for me quite nicely thank you.

Visiting families who have lost children is a reminder that the freedom to sit and write this rubbish is a blessing (non religious variety of course).

I have increased the Guru's presence on Twitter - please feel free to join me - and have now made contact with my dear friend Christine Hamilton as well as many other people, some more well known than me, some obscure like a nice chap called Rob Lowe.

Nichelle Nichols is there too talking in the wake of the 9-11 Koran burning fracas about the Vulcan philosophy of IDIC. Infinite diversity in infinite combination. In the week that Star Trek celebrated its 44th  birthday it was a nice reminder of the future we could and should work for - but religion will divide us well into the future and therefore we can only rely on one thing to keep us together. Take it away Mr Sedaka...

Neil Sedaka

Sunday 5 September 2010

Message from the sponsor

I have just been contacted by Tesco, who thanked me for my on-going advertisement of their stores - they then pointed out that they do stock venison, but only in some of their stores in the posh parts of the south.
The reason they don't stock it in Mansfield is that venison has hardly any fat in it, thereby making it inedible to the cave dwellers of the midlands and the north.

Thank you Tesco - every little helps.

Saturday 7 August 2010

Saturday Supplement

How wonderful for you all, a gift of genius from your Guru. A blog.

Dreams are an insight into the world we wished we lived, so I would like to be brave this morning and share with you last nights nocturnal visitation from the land beyond beyond. I will expose myself and am prepared for the shock this might cause.

In my dream I was a famous detective, so famous that I didn't have a name, I was simply known as 'the Detective'.

I was called in by a wealthy lady to investigate the crippling of her favourite horse - the lady was large bosomed and spoke with a plum in her mouth. I asked her to remove the plum and it soon became clear that this made her easier to understand.

She explained that she had left the horse watching television (re-runs of Steptoe and Son as the horse was a distant relative of Old Ned) but upon her return from Waitrose, she found the horse in agony on the floor clutching one of his ankles. The horse had told her that "he did it" before slipping into a coma.

Sadly he couldn't point out the culprit as he was holding his ankles with all his free hooves and it took all his energy to speak.

So, there was I, the Detective, with my faithful sidekick called Marianne.

On investigating the scene, I noticed that near the chair where the horse had been sitting was a small table on which was a hay sandwich and a bottle of chablis, cold and running with condensation. The sandwich had not been touched and the bottle was full - there was no sign of a glass. Then I spotted a broken glass laying just inside the door of the rather spacious lounge.

Near the broken glass, looking like it had been casually discarded, was a large silk cushion on which was stitched a scene of pheasants fleeing a gun dog.

I then returned to the chair and noticed a few dog hairs on a cushion.

I said to the lady - "where is your dog?"

"How do you know I have a dog?" she replied.

"Elementary my dear lady - I saw it when we came in earlier".

The dog was summoned, it entered very sheepishly, making little baa-ing noises. He also had a black eye.

I then gathered everyone around and explained what had happened.

The horse, left watching television, had decided to have a snack and so went to the kitchen to make a hay sandwich and get the chablis from the fridge. Upon returning to the lounge he had found the dog sat in his chair and had given him a good telling off and a punch in the eye for good measure. The horse had settled down and then realised he had left his glass in the kitchen.

The horse left to fetch the glass and the wounded dog seized his chance. He carefully positioned the cushion just inside the door and when the horse returned he slipped on the cushion and injured his ankle. It was all so clear - mystery solved.

The lady rewarded me with £1 million Euros, the dog went to prison, Marianne released a record and the horse sadly died and was turned into dog food, which was then sent to the prison where his attacker was detained.

The dream closes with the dog laughing uncontrollably and pointing at the dinner plate.


This dream is very telling, it shows the great intellect and insight that I possess as well as showing that I have a way with animals.

I think it also shows that cauliflower cheese and prosecco before bed is a bad idea.

Have a nice day and sweet dreams for tonight.

Saturday 31 July 2010

Saturday Supplement

Well here we are again, a week has flown by and I have been prodded and poked by the JP to give unto you a little extra - the main course arrives tomorrow, a perfectly harmless dissertation on the state of Special Educational Needs. Mrs B is worried I might upset someone but I told her to rest easy, people know that the Guru speaks only the truth and if the truth hurts then that shows some fault in the recipient of my wisdom and insight.

As if to prove a point, I awoke on Friday and found myself full of joie de vivre, or whatever the English equivalent is. I sat and ate my temporary breakfast cereal - temporary because when the box is empty I’m going back to granola - and watched the news and was saddened to see events in Pakistan. Terrible scenes of flooding and devastation, old men clinging to wire fences whilst the torrent of water threatened to tear them away from their loved ones and their lives.

And then a scene showing two buffalo being swept along by the cataract, terrified creatures who had no doubt shared a muddy field together, now facing their bovine fate side by side. Then,heartbreakingly, I spotted a poor little donkey, also being carried away to perish in the flood.

I tried to remain upbeat, I went out to work determined to be positive and enjoy the freedom of my life, the freedom from poverty and the devastating weather, in fact freedom from fear.

I drove to Lincoln and conducted a funeral and then on the way home I called at Tesco.

Even as I pulled into the car park, the cold hand of dread seized my heart, but I knew I had to face my fear and enter the palace of retail hell. Mrs B needed Pinot and so in I went.

I imagined myself in the role of Anna (minus the King) and I whistled a happy tune as I grasped my basket and set off in search of a few tidbits and as I passed the coleslaw section I heard some smelly oaf complaining very loudly, VERY loudly, about the cost of said cabbage based accompaniment.

The smelly rude man was being obnoxious to staff members and at that point the image of that drowning donkey flashed into my head and I was forced to speak, nay - to act!

So with basket in hand and smile firmly affixed I walked across and told him that the cost of a pot of coleslaw was nothing at the side of the cost of losing your home, your livelihood or your life. I then raised my own voice, slightly and said “Get a grip you moron, coleslaw is a luxury!”

I walked away feeling full of joy, the rude man stood, stunned by my outburst - I then stopped dead in my tracks, turned and walked back to the display where I selected the most expensive coleslaw I could find and placed it in my basket. If I had long hair, this is when I would have tossed it in a disdainful manner. I now made my exit, via the pizza aisle - well I needed something for the coleslaw to go on. Farewell fish finger sandwiches which had been my choice for the evening repast.

In hindsight speaking in this way to a total stranger was a dangerous course of action as he looked the type who might carry some sort of offensive weapon, which would have neatly matched his offensive demeanour, appearance and smell.

Sometimes we have to speak up, we have to point out the absurdity of a situation, we have to open our hearts and act, otherwise all the little donkeys in the world might die in vain.

I like to think that the little donkey in Pakistan, the poor terrified creature, died to give me the courage to put that imbecile in his place.

Thank you little donkey.


And so my day continued and I enjoyed my pizza and coleslaw - bloody expensive middle class coleslaw, but every mouthful was sweeter as I thought of that rank odorous troglodyte eating his value coleslaw and wondering who they hell was that man in the suit and lovely silk tie who harangued me in Tesco? (Of course he wouldn’t have said harangued, he was too thick).


Thank you for reading the Saturday Supplement, now go on line and support the Disasters Emergency Committee or the Donkey Sanctuary...please.


See you tomorrow.

http://drupal.thedonkeysanctuary.org.uk/

http://www.dec.org.uk/

Saturday 17 July 2010

Emergency Blog!

I know what you are thinking - he promised to stop blogging - well, let's just pretend I'm a politician and that means promises are made to be broken, plus this is an emergency, so stand back as I break the glass and release the handle on the emergency blog.

Since 1997, I have appeared on the stage many times in many guises - from the owner of an Italian restaurant via a Brummy horse to a Jewish gangster and ending up as a Geordie elf! And all for no pay - I did it for the love of theatre and I have to say it was brilliant. I was brilliant too - occasionally.

My friend, the JP, is busily scripting and shaping words into a new play that he will eventually deliver unto the world and I have recently been invited to several local shows created by young ambitious folk who want to take this love of theatre and make a life out of it...and good for them I say.

I suppose acting must be about the most over subscribed occupation in the world, for every actor that gets the job there are hundreds that don't and to get the job there are many sacrifices that have to be made - it is not an easy life but it can be a very rewarding one.

Having that chance to grab your dream and to just go for it - I would suggest to anyone out there who is sitting back thinking, "I can't" or "I shouldn't", that you should and you must!

Yes it will be a struggle but then life is never guaranteed to be easy, but if you work hard and if you suffer the slings and arrows, you might just find that you have some great memories to look back on, a renewed confidence to chase the dream and some good friends to support you.

Now, where is all this cosy philosophy coming from, why the warm gush first thing in the morning? Well, it is the fault of several people  connected with the show I went to see last night at the Lyceum Theatre in Sheffield - Laughter in the Rain.

Laughter in the Rain is the story of Neil Sedaka, told to the audience by the man, his family and collaborators. It obviously contains many of his songs and if you are from a certain generation you soon find yourself drawn along with the inevitable uplifting tide of the show. It is a great show, you sing, you clap, you smile and there is even a chance for a tear to fall - you even get to stand up and dance and that is the first thing I want to say thank you for...there were hundreds of people 'dad-dancing' in that auditorium and it felt OK!

Of course the best thing about the show was the superb role played by the ASM and the whole thing held together thanks to the efforts of the wardrobe assistant but beyond those two hard working, dedicated, sober individuals, it would be unfair to pick out anyone on that stage for special mention...it was simply a great piece of work.

Having said I don't want to mention individuals I am now going to do exactly that...Wayne Smith as Sedaka, a warmth of delivery that cannot be produced from just acting - it comes from that reservoir of sincerity that not every actor possesses. His singing voice was first class too.

Edward Handoll as Howard Greenfield, Alastair Natkiel as Don Kirshner - both excellent.

You see this is why I shouldn't have started with names because now I want to praise them all - anyway, the rest of the cast and the band were brilliant.

Let me backtrack a little - if you do love the theatre and you want to make a life for yourself in that world you have to fight hard for it, you have to make those sacrifices and I met two young men who are doing that and more power to them for chasing that dream and not giving in and for giving it 110% last night during the show.

First of all, Charlie Adams, a brief meeting with Charlie will leave you with the memory of his smile and a likeable quality that makes you wish you knew him better - he can sing too! Charlie played several roles in the play and you just knew he was enjoying himself and having read his bio I will now watch out for his appearance in the tampax advert! I'm sure his confidence flows from somewhere other than a sanitary product.

Kieran Brown, we met after the show - he played Elton John and Tony Christie as well as other roles. Kieran has a big one, a bio that is, measured against Charlie anyway - Kieran has worked in productions from Les Miserable to Taggart and he seems to have made a great life for himself. All that work and he doesn't look a day over 19 and I want to put on the record that he is about as far away from camp as you can get - no camp with Kieran, even if he does drink wine before beer.

Here is a young man working hard, getting paid next to nothing but still determined to be the best he could be...and with such plans for his own future.  I wish him every success and I can only suggest you visit his website at www.kieranbrown.com or follow him on twitter (luciferbox). He knows Daniel Boys too - so that raises him another level for me.

There will be many who went to see Laughter in the Rain who came away feeling better and happier for the experience - I certainly did. I was invigorated by the youthfulness and unadulterated joy of the cast and I was left thinking - come on old fella, get your arse in gear and start learning lines!

So, emergency over, a little release of pent up happiness which a miserable old bastard should not have to carry around all day.

Thanks to Dean and Niki, thanks to Kieran, thanks to Charlie, thanks to all the cast and crew of Laughter in the Rain - hope you get to the West End.

Wednesday 14 July 2010

Important Announcement

Having taken a short break following my year long daily blog-a-thon, by almost popular demand, The View from the Hill returns...but this time as a fortnightly event in which I will have the time to expand on some of the great issues troubling the modern world.

Hunger, greed, sex, faith, expression, depression and cucumbers - no these are not some new deviant Seven Dwarves, these are just some of the topics I will be investigating, and talking of topics I must say that there is no longer a hazelnut in every bite.

You see already your world is more enlightened by my return - you can rest easy, I am with you, my rod and staff will comfort you.Although I had to fire Rod from my staff for the petty pilfering of hazelnuts.

I feel it is my duty to offer these nuggets of wisdom, these tiny drops of genius, as I am fully aware that they have become so useful to my faithful followers. I am offering you a rare insight into the mind of a guru, a modern day non-religious evangelist if you will, a crusader for a better life.

Place yourself in my slightly sweaty hands and I will deliver you to nirvana, or as close as this bus can get to nirvana, probably Chichester.

If you feel you wish answers to those big questions in life (questions like,what is the meaning of life?) then come close and open yourself up to the wonder of my universe. By the way, the meaning of life - a Monty Python film (1983).

But before we move on, I better allow you time to calm down, you may well be over excited by my second coming...it’s not just anyone who can have a second coming you know!

So, go my brethren, go and wash the sleep from your eyes, they need to be fully open to the possibility that your world will change forever simply because GuruDrew offered you - The View from the Hill.


PS

If do have questions that need an answer just send them to me and I will probe them diligently - I am a very diligent prober!


Coming Soon:

The View on: Laughter, Happiness and Well Being.

Wednesday 7 July 2010

The View from the Hill on Wednesday 7th July

It started one year ago, and on that day it was raining - this morning it is overcast and the rain is on the way. Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose!

Actually much has changed over the last year but as the weather forecast clearly states for today, into every life some rain must fall.

Danny and Jake have left this mortal coil and the world kept spinning even though I wanted it to stop just for a little while so I could catch my breath. Miss you boys.

My own mortality still teases me through the good offices of doctors who prescribe new tablets and take my blood pressure and set me targets for weight loss.

We are sending our young men and women to fight a battle that cannot be won, they die and we count them brave whilst under our breath we mutter about the waste.

The Old Nazi still bugs me.

Faithful friends and readers have come and gone, a core indeed a solid core remain true to the end and my thanks to you for that.

I have made you laugh and cry and occasionally gip (Miss Twillets) and you have given me the ammo for some quite awful puns and sarcasm.

Today is just another day for most but for some it will be a hard day and to those of you who are making life changing decisions please remember it is better to make hard decisions than to live with the consequences of making none.

Throughout this year, in fact throughout the last 28 years, Mrs B has been there for me. We have shared some bloody awful times and we have shared some great times - she is the love of my life and I know I could not go on without her. Thank you Mrs B...63+

I thank you all for reading this eclectic collection, this melange of memory, this daily diatribe - and now the experiment ends - I did it.

But, dear reader, I cannot leave you completely and so I will from time to time post a blog and if you find the time to read it I will of course be grateful.

Have a great day, have a great year, have a great life. 0

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...this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.

Winston Churchill

HINGE AND BRACKET.5.GALA EVENING.THE WHITE HORSE INN.Clip 5.

Saturday 3 July 2010

The View from the Hill on Saturday 3rd July

A lunchtime blog following our drive home from Peterborough - we stayed overnight in a Premier Inn (no sign of Lenny Henry) and to use Mrs B's own words - the room was adequate.

We came back via the scenic route of the A15 and A17 rather than A1 and A52. We hadn't driven that route for some time and although it is a bit of a trek the Lincolnshire countryside can be quite charming in a sort of flat and run down sort of way.

We had declined breakfast at the Premier Inn as it would have been an extra £15 and Mrs B didn't think she could eat £7.50's worth of croissant. So we stopped at Christy's Farm Shop cafe in Hockerton where Mrs B devoured more than £7.50's worth of sausage cob whilst I was a good boy and ate the vegetarian breakfast. Scrambled eggs, baked beans, grilled tomato, mushrooms,sauté potato and fried bread with toast on the side. Now before you get all upset about the fried bread and the toast - I didn't eat both. Mrs B had the fried bread in her sausage cob. The star turn of the breakfast was my view of the windmill - a beautiful white modern structure sticking out of the Nottinghamshire farmland - very space age.

So we arrived back in Mansfield, and we have just returned from Tesco - and you know how I love going to Tesco!

I think I might watch a bit of the football to see which of England's sworn enemies can overcome the over - the best result would be that the referee sends them all off and nobody progresses to the next round.

I managed to be quite un-grumpy at the party by the way - there again I did have competition!

OK, now Mrs B wants to go shopping again so this star trek from Peterborough is not yet complete...4 - the voyage home will continue.

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Humans make illogical decisions.

Star Trek IV - The Voyage Home

Friday 2 July 2010

The View from the Hill on Friday 2nd July

It's my nephews birthday today and we are heading south, for the first time in a long time we are going to a family function. For the last few years we have not gone to many mainly because we couldn't take the dogs and we had no one to let them out so we were limited on the time we could be away - but now we have no reason not to go, we are going.

Now I'm going to be honest - I dislike big gatherings, family or not, it is usually too loud for me and I can't hear what is being said plus I'm not very good at the politics of the thing and I manage to put my foot in it some how. Not that I don't love my family, and it will be lovely to see the nieces and nephews again, but I guess I'm just old and miserable and grumpy and given half a chance I would be out playing on the trampoline with the children.

I suppose over the course of our marriage I have often been the cause of Mrs B losing touch with people, because of my recalcitrant and stubborn nature, because I would rather it just be me and her - and it has become a standing joke that we will walk into a house visiting friends and the first thing they will say to me is "I know - you're not stopping long!"

People reading this will be shocked I know, that the man so often full of jokes and smiles is such an unsociable grump, but I am. If I were not married to Mrs B, I would probably die a very lonely miserable person - but luckily she is there and this means I will just die a miserable person.

Anyway, we will go to Peterborough and I will do my best not to be too dismal or depressing, hope it's not raining though and the trampoline is up!

Sam, Max,Tyler, Connie and Lily-Rose  -  5 - reasons to be cheerful

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A bit of grin and bear it, a bit of come and share it
You're welcome, we can spare it - yellow socks

Ian Dury

Tuesday 29 June 2010

The View from the Hill on Tuesday 29th June

Sorry to break the news to you this way but...dear burglars, you are too late now, having a new alarm fitted today.

That's probably tempting fate but as I don't believe in fate I'm not sure how tempting it will find my comments.

As I move towards the terminal stop on this year long writing project, I have been reviewing how my blogs have changed over that period, from some serious posts via absolute drivel. I suppose it records many things including my mood during the past twelve months. I think it's clear to see that I am a combination of a comedy genius and a miserable old bastard.

There have been days (like today) when knowing what to write about has been difficult, and there have been other days when the words have flowed out of me like brown steaming poo out of a cow.  I have peddled my rubbish around the globe with readers in the USA, France, India, Australia, China, Iran and places in the UK as different as the Houses of Parliament and Skegness.

For all time, my ramblings will be accessible via the internet, it will become an historical document and who knows if in some future time, aliens might find it and start a whole new society based around the teachings of Drew - fascinating.


Have you tried googling yourself - I bet you have, but if not you should have a go because you will be shocked at what might pop up. For example, I apparently run a second hand car dealership in Enniskillen. The whole Google results page is devoted to the Irish Drew Baxter, with just one entry about a life without faith right in the middle and then two pictures of me at the bottom of the page - I am now famous enough to make the first page on Google!

Better go and make the house a little more tidy for the alarm man - although when he walks in and sees who he is working for - he will be alarmed, and what stories to tell his grandchildren. "I fitted the alarm for Drew Baxter - no not the one from Enniskillen"!

Do you know what they use to make French bread - 8 - when the wind comes right behind the rain...

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To be occasionally quoted is the only fame I care for

Alexander Smith

Wednesday 23 June 2010

The View from the Hill on Wednesday 23rd June

Happy Anniversary to Mrs B and myself - 26 years of married life and she still can't get me to do the ironing.

Her expectations have lessened and she doesn't even ask me to iron the handkerchiefs anymore - and I was pretty good at ironing square things like hankies and tea towels.

The budget went off quite well I thought, Mrs B gets a pay freeze and we will pay more in VAT in the new year but the increase in the personal allowance will off-set that a little. I'm quite happy to join George Osbourne in this crusade to reduce the deficit and to crush the disabled and the poor, it can only mean one thing, less of them will be able to shop in Tesco freeing up valuable space for the middle class shoppers slumming it there, as they can't afford Waitrose anymore.

But seriously, people will have to think about budgeting and perhaps cut down on the drugs and alcohol and cigarettes and buy their children a vegetable instead.

But seriously, seriously, we will all have to tighten our belts and make do and mend - it's that blitz spirit that the English are so well known for - when we are down, the Churchillian aspect of our nature surfaces and as the Frog Chorus put it so well, we all stand together! Oh Yes!

This is how we will respond, this is what we will do, England expects...to be on the plane home at about 6pm tonight.

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England expects that every man will do his duty

Admiral Horatio Nelson.

Tuesday 22 June 2010

The View from the Hill on Tuesday 22nd June

Budget, budget, budget....

Football, football, football...

Budget, budget, budget....

Football, football, football...

Budget, BP, budget...

Football, Football, Christine Bleakley...

BP, budget, budget

Football, foxes, football...

Budget, budget, and now the news where you are....

Hello I'm Anne Davies and this is Dominic Heale and here is the news for the East Midlands...first a report about how the owner of a BP garage in Leicester asked Christine Bleakley about how footballers will cope with the cuts made during the budget.

(SCREAM).

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But better die than live mechanically a life that is a repetition of repetitions.

DH Lawrence

Sunday 20 June 2010

The View from the Hill on Sunday 20th June

I really don't feel like blogging today - the house is quiet, too quiet and I have nothing of value to say.

I know it never stopped me before - but today it...


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...feels like a house with all the children gone.

Star Trek III

Friday 18 June 2010

The View from the Hill on Friday 18th June

Well done to my nephew Sam and his band - How To Kill A King - they won the battle of the bands competition they had entered. Very proud making for us all.

My musical talent lies in a superb singing voice which many of you may have heard, but in younger days I did play the bass in a band - not a guitar bass, but the oompah oompah type. I think I was the only one with enough wind to blow the bloody thing.

The one thing about playing the bass is you never get any solo spots, they always went to the showy instruments like the cornet or the trombone, while you just puff along like an old steam train under the melody.

In recent times I had thought about learning to play an instrument, something like the clarinet or even the ukelele, but with my bitten finger nails, I'd more than likely end up with my fingers in shreds on the carpet. So I'll just stick to singing and in fact as I have some time on my hands today I might record another track in celebration of Sam and his victory - in fact I think the time has come for me to release an album and I think it should be an all request album so please send your requests to me. I will consider all requests except the request never to sing again!

England play their second match tonight and Mrs B and I have decided to watch it via the Sky+ again, I have even put a picture of Wayne Rooney on my Facebook page profile so as to be more supportive of the team - so come on England, lose so we can put all this fuss and nonsense behind us and concentrate on the golf from Pebble Beach!

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If music be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it; that surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.

W Shakespeare

Twelfth Night

Thursday 17 June 2010

The View from the Hill on Thursday 17th June

I must apologise in advance for the use of a rude word - but yesterday I couldn't go anywhere without this word jumping out at me. It was everywhere, even in the local paper there were pages and pages where this word was used repeatedly...so I'm sorry but I'm only reporting the story(s) as told to me.

This lovely warm weather has caught some people out, some are wearing their summer clothes, others still frightened of the rain, get caught out in blazing sunshine in heavy jeans and the like - and this can cause some problems. In the local paper there was quite a lot of coverage about cockchafers and I just thought, well, warm weather and the wrong clothes - what do you expect! Then I read on and realised it was actually a story about some beetles that are infesting the gardens of Mansfield, they lay their eggs and you end up with little brown patches in your grass....I used to get that but it wasn't cockchafers it was dog eggs.

Anyhow, talcum powder seems to be the best way to prevent any further problems, talcum and loose cotton underwear.

I came back from visiting a family last evening and was still chuckling when I got in, I explained to Mrs B why. The lady that had died was well into her 80's and her family were telling me that she was a game old bird which was quite apt because she loved to feed the birds in the garden, she even had a trained robin which came when she called. One day her daughter arrived at the house to find her mother stood on the doorstep dressed in her dressing gown, ankle socks, slippers and curlers and at the top of her voice she was shouting "Cock!" She repeated the word several times in quite a desperate fashion and her daughter said to her "for goodness sake Mother - what are you doing?" "I can't find the robin" came her reply.

It turned out that this was the name she had given the little bird and for years she had been standing on the doorstep shouting for cock.

So, there we have it - two cock stories and no balls.

I just realised my dispersible aspirin tastes a bit sweet this morning and I am thinking perhaps I may have dissolved a sweetener instead - which means Mrs B has the aspirin in her tea!

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If the cock does not crow before sunset, either it will rain the next day - or the cock is dead!

Dutch Proverb

(I blame the fox)

Monday 14 June 2010

The View from the Hill on Monday 14th June

The manner in which a new word can sneak its way into the national lexicon never ceases to amaze me, and the latest word is one that nobody had really heard until the World Cup - vuvuzela.

But now we all know what a vuvuzela is and we know how irritating they can be, we have some wonderful options for new insults to be framed, such as "James Corden at number one - he sings like a really bad vuvuzela"! (That was for Liam).

So from this day forward I challenge you all to find people who are loud, monotonous and irritating and present them with the title - vuvuzela of the week.

The Tony Awards took place in Radio City Music Hall last night with some very nice results for the British  including an honorary award for Sir Alan Ayckbourn, supporting actor to Eddie Redmayne and best actor and actress in a musical going to Catherine Zeta Jones and Douglas Hodge. Of course the BBC are not really covering these wins in the same way they would best actor at the Oscars - theatre not as important as film you see.

In fact it was a great day for British wins, in motor racing Hamilton and Button leading the way, in golf Lee Westwood hitting form the week before the US Open - if only the football players could emulate this winning form, we would all go out and buy vuvuzelas - if for no other reason than to drown out the pundits, the commentators and James Corden. (That was for Liam again).

A busy day today, but a quieter week on the whole and hopefully a chance to record some mini podcasts and play with my equipment.

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There won't be trumpets....

Stephen Sondheim

Friday 11 June 2010

The View from the Hill on Friday 11th June

At what point does a pre-packed Waitrose sandwich become inedible?

I ask this question because Mrs B asked me to pick her up a mixed pepper and houmous sandwich yesterday, which I did (I had tuna and cucumber - 251 calories) but I was a little confused on the date front and have just realised that its display and use by date were yesterday!

So my question is based upon the need to identify at what point did the sandwich transfer from edible to inedible status? Was it at exactly midnight? Or do you think it might have had some weak lettuce or some anaemic peppers and so drifted into inedibility a little earlier? Perhaps the strength of the bread will allow the sandwich to cling on a little past the midnight deadline - perhaps the houmous is made from very resolute chick peas and bolstered by a little garlic they are able to save the sandwich and extend its life through until lunchtime today?

Anyway, I think it safer to simply get a pen and change the date so Mrs B doesn't realise what she's eating.

I hear on the news that football fans in Derby are going to march in protest on the city square this lunch time, they are protesting that the Council will not show the World Cup on the big screen tv they have there. I think the very fact that they will be protesting shows that the council is right! You don't want lots of unemployed drunken yobs cluttering the centre of Derby every day of the week - save the big screen for more gentile events like the ballet.

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"But hummus. When did that happen?...but there's a restaurant down the road that that's all they do. That is isn't a proper meal, that's a side-order innit? That's like having a restaurant just floggin' tomato ketchup."

Karl Pilkington

Wednesday 9 June 2010

The View from the Hill on Wednesday 9th June

Sorry I'm a little late blogging today - it was a fox who stole the keyboard and then sat on the roof with it, laughing.

I do wonder if we can get through a whole day without foxes appearing on the news? There again I just realised Fox News has its own channel!

A day for writing today, lots to do and I also have a lunchtime appointment to go to the pub - a very rare occurrence for me. I shall drink only mineral water of course.

As I look in my diary I see the first ceremony I have to write is for a Mr Fox!

It makes a nice change for me to be able to write funerals for people who have all reached a good age, of the next five I am preparing the youngest is 73 and the oldest 94 - and yet last night I was sat with a family who have lost a husband and father aged just 48.

Enough about work, what about play - I hope that tomorrow evening myself and the Junior Partner will be recording another episode of our world famous podcast - You Might Regret It.  We haven't done one for weeks and so it will interesting to see if we can still produce the magic. Well when I say we, I mean he, I do carry his meagre talent but it's nice to see him try - it's like care in the community or voluntary work for me.

Well, these funerals wont write themselves - off to jolly old work we go.

Have a nice day and I think I'll post you a nice song to listen to - now let's see....

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To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

W Shakespeare   Macbeth

Tuesday 8 June 2010

The View from the Hill on Tuesday 8th June

I finished my audio book yesterday whilst traveling to Lincoln via Sturton Le Steeple (never been there before) and this meant I was forced to listen to the radio - You and Yours on Radio 4 was about Retirement and Nursing Homes and as I have already picked out my choice for both my parents and in-laws, I had no need of the information they were sharing.

On twiddling the knob, I found myself in the world of Jeremy Vine - and what a world it is.

They started out talking about the children attacked by a fox in London - including contributions from animal rescue workers, a retired farmer and a man who keeps several of the animals as pets.
There was also a reporter who was obviously standing outside the house where the attack occurred, describing in very severe tones what she believed had happened and reporting how the mother had been escorted to the hospital through the throng of reporters - and that she was wearing a stripy top!

Why was there a throng of reporters I wondered? Were they all from the Daily Mail and will todays headlines read something like - This would never have happened if we hadn't banned hunting!

Meanwhile the reporter intoned how pest control had caught the fox and it had been humanely destroyed...Vine quickly asked "was it the same fox"? The reporter went quiet for a second before commenting that obviously there was no way of knowing.

Where were the CSI team, they could have made sure that the real offender was in custody but no - we just start killing foxes because they are all killers!

There was a man who rang in to say that he had lost millions of chickens over the years to killer foxes, that foxes had picked the locks on a secure barn and basically butchered his chickens and then painted rude graffiti on the walls bragging of how they would come back and dig up his cabbages too!

Luckily some sanity was restored with the man who kept pet foxes, he reported how they were better than dogs because they like to nibble his ears!

So, that was half an hour of Jeremy Vine - luckily I then arrived at my destination and when I came out of the appointment I was keeping they were talking about a council taking an overweight dog from it's owners - didn't ask what they did with overweight children?

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Then old Mother Flipper-Flopper jumped out of bed,
Out of the window she cocked her head,
Crying, "John, John! The gray goose is gone,
And the fox is on the town-o, town-o, town-o!"
Crying, "John, John! The gray goose is gone,
And the fox is on the town-o!"

The Fox - Peter Paul and Mary