Clean Cupboards

It feels more like autumn that spring here in Mansfield, the fog hasn't lifted all day and there is a slight drizzle of rain. The logs on the fire are doing as much as they can to alleviate the coldness that has permeated these old bones of mine, bones which ache just a little more than usual after Mrs B decided today was the day we cleaned the cupboards! I tried to resist but she can be very forceful, so I conceded defeat and tried my best to be helpful.

It happens once every four or five years, Mrs B decides to take everything out of the cupboards, and then put it all back in a slightly different order. She would say that we actually discard things we no longer need, I would point to the fact that we have pyrex dishes that predate Fanny Craddock, pyrex that we never ever use...but it is all now clean and stacked very neatly for another twelve or fifteen years!

We did throw away some out of date spices and condiments but on the whole we still have enough bowls, jugs, pots, flan dishes (god knows the last time we actually had a flan) casseroles and assorted glassware to start our own branch of Spoils. Actually did Spoils go out of business - if they did it is because  we have their stock.

The shelves are all clean and the work surfaces are visible for a change - I never put anything away you see - I like to keep things handy.

We have three salt pots, one with Lo-Salt one with sea salt and one with normal salt.

We now have pepper pots too numerous to mention with white ground pepper, black ground pepper, black pepper corns, white pepper corns, rainbow pepper corns, Szechuan pepper corns and garlic pepper.

In fact, let me show how neat the cupboard looks now...

The newly sorted cupboard

Please note the huge jar of Marmite that belongs to Mrs B, whereas the cup-a-soups lurking behind it, and already untidy and out of place, are mine.

Oh well, a job done and my only dread is that she will suddenly get the urge to tidy the garage!

Have a nice Saturday and good luck if you are buying a ticket in the lottery - it's a rollover.

I know how it feels!

Sunset

You find me in a reflective, nay pensive mood this evening. I have driven back from Spridlington, a village north of Lincoln, a beautiful and quiet place. As I drove back towards Mansfield, which is neither beautiful nor quiet, I was driving towards the setting sun and its vivid red colours filled the evening sky, painting the Trent valley with its majestic splendour.

As I drove along I was listening to some music and watching the changing scenery and thinking about this day - a day that has involved so many actions that if I were to list them it would take hours - from sitting up in bed, making a cup of tea, brushing my teeth, climbing into the car, talking, walking, laughing....

We take it for granted that we can do these things with differing degrees of ability and taking into account our age, our flexibility, any illnesses or injuries we have - yes, we take it for granted.

I conduct many funeral ceremonies for people who have suffered with dementia and Alzheimer's, it is a terrible disease, your mind turning to mush whilst your body carries on regardless. Today I carried out a funeral for a lady who had suffered a disease which is much worse - motor neurone disease.

The process is very cruel as you may well know - your mind stays sharp whilst your body slowly grinds to a halt - I can't think of anything worse. You end up unable to carry out any of the simple actions that I took for granted all day.

I know this is not a very cheery blog but I don't feel very cheery, even a beautiful sunset couldn't lift my spirits - and I doubt the bottle of Pinot I am about to tackle will ease the the situation - but at least I can open the bottle, lift the glass and swallow the wine.

If you want to know more about MND - click here.

Nat West - Another Way?

Hello my friends, hello; just called to let you know....

What is the job of a bank? To keep your money safe and to let you have some it every now and then either through a cash machine or via an electronic payment. I suppose in its simplest form that is all we want from our bank.

Yesterday Mrs B asked me to buy $60 to give as a gift and as I had a few cheques to pay in I walked into our branch of Nat West. I had not been in for a few weeks and was surprised to see that the whole place had been decked out with comfy seats. No queues now, just lots of people sitting on comfy seats waiting to be called to the next free cashiers window by an electronic voice.

What you are supposed to do is press a button on a screen telling them what transaction you wish to undertake, it then prints you a ticket with a number and then you go and sit on the comfy seats until called - well I didn't need a ticket to pay in the cheques as that is something you do without the aid of a human being these days. Eventually got the cheques into the bloody machine and then realised that the foreign till was no longer in existence - I had to take a ticket and sit in the comfy seats.

The ticket - T100 - had printed on it a little memo which indicated that all customers should be seen within five minutes and it was after reading that memo for seven minutes that I started to get a little fidgety.

Eventually I was summoned to 'position number four please' - and made my way to the very miserable and ugly lady sat behind the bullet proof glass. In hindsight the glass was perhaps to keep the customers from just smacking the cashier.

"Good morning, how can I help you?"

"I would like to buy $60 please."

"I'm sorry Sir, but I can't sell you $60."

"Why not, pray tell me?"

"Because dollars come pre-packed in amounts of $200 and we are not allowed to split them - Sir."

I gently reminded the ugly cow that I was a customer and that the customer is always right and I may have raised my voice slightly as I turned to walk away stating "what sort of service do you call this?!"

I then found a real person dressed as a bank employee and asked if I might make a complaint - she said I could and suggested I take a number and wait on the comfy seats!

Dear Nat West - please PLEASE find another way.

I got my $60 from the Post Office without much stress, other than it was full of smelly common people queueing for postal orders and stamps.

Have a nice day and avoid Nat West at all costs.

Calling Doctor Lector

Greetings to my tiny band of perfectly formed followers  - I need to ask you a question.

What do you believe?

We are fast approaching the time when you will be asked to complete the census - sadly the Biblical requirement to travel to the place of our birth to be counted is no longer part of the process, which is probably the only reason that I would ever have re-visited Wisbech - capital of the Fens.

On the day of the census the head of the household will record all sorts of information and we will therefore all have to tell the state where we are and what we do and how many times a week we flush the toilet. We will also be asked what we believe, what faith do we belong to. This is where I get a little niggled and would like to stock up on fava beans and chianti - I don't think my faith or lack of it, is the  business of the state.

What will happen is that many will tick the Christian box because it's a default UK position - many who tick the box never go to church, never prayer, never watch Songs of Praise, never buy Daniel O'Donnell CD's and will be the worst hypocrites on the face of the planet.

The Hindu, the Sikh, the Muslim, the Jew, the Buddhist, the Rastafarian, the Jedi will all tick their boxes and those with no faith can tick the no faith option and we will end up with a list of figures which people will then use to argue that religion is dead or alive or wounded...

The information will be used to support the entrenched positions already occupied by fundamentalists of all creeds, including atheist.

So what good will it do? None.

Why can't we let faith be a private thing? Why can't we accept that some people change their mind according to life experiences?

What I believe today I may not believe tomorrow.

It's about as much use as asking what football team you support or what is your favourite colour.

So, followers of the Guru, bend to my will and on the day of the census draw a new box on the form and give it the title 'mind your own bleeding business!'.

There we go, just a quickie this morning - I am having my ears lowered and I have miles to go before I sleep...

See you soon dear ones.

Keeping Abreast of the News

Good morning one and all and welcome to day two of the reinvigorated daily blog...pinch punch and Happy St David's Day.

The death of Jane Russell is being reported in the news this morning, the lady who will forever be remembered for her full figure rather than her acting talent, even though she had them in equal measure. Of course Ms Russell came from an era where actresses actually had breasts and looked like women whereas most actresses these days look like boys who will never need a bra - let alone a reinforced one as Ms Russell was asked to wear by Howard Hughes.

Pin-ups from the past always had a nice figure and Page Three (which I despise of course) keeps this tradition alive today but how many of the models today are naturally ample and how many have been pumped full of salt water, like an intensively farmed chicken breast wrapped and presented in plastic on the shelf at Tesco?


Treading carefully, as I know some ladies are sensitive about their cup size, I would be the first to agree that the sexualisation of a ladies breast area is wrong - very wrong - but there are some men who just prefer a mantelpiece to a picture rail.

My own Facebook icon is a picture of Ms Raquel Welch - she was amply proportioned in the fur bikini department and less so in acting ability and you could argue that she was there to titillate and perhaps the films she starred in benefitted from the extra footfall of men in long rain coats?

There are some actresses today who are well endowed but again they seem to be known for those assets rather than acting ability - Pamela Anderson springs to mind. Excuse me for a moment...



She is one of the many ladies who do not rely on what nature has given them, they undergo surgery to have their breasts augmented. I do not judge ladies for this, this should be about what they want and if they think to get noticed in the world they need huge breasts, well good luck I say.

Katie Price is obviously the exception to this, as she is one person we all judge - she has so many knockers it is hard to keep count.

I know some men also consider surgery an option in the trouser department and some go to enormous lengths... and I suppose in a balanced blog I would now talk about actors and size issues but we should remember it's not size that counts! (Unless you are a porn star).

Whilst on the issue of breasts, did you see Col Gadaffi being interviewed and telling the world that his people loved him - what a tit!

It's all a bit racy for Tuesday morning so I think I better end now and undertake some serious research on the subject so that I might better understand how to handle the breast situation.

I did notice in my initial research that Ms Pamela Anderson is a fan of ornithology and is particularly partial to a cockatoo.

PS

Mrs B is really going to make me suffer for this.

Whatever Florrie Wants....

So, here we are again dear hearts - and after a swift kick up my blogging arse I return to a daily ramble full of intelligent comment and drivel.

It was a reuniting with Florrie that finally pushed me back over the edge into ego-world and to be frank it was not a moment too soon as my head is full of rubbish that needs sharing.

I enjoyed talking about movies and so on but it would seem that my reminiscences are not as well received as my ramblings.

Florrie was visiting our humble part of the globe from her chateau 'darn sarf' to help celebrate the 50th birthday of my sister in law Susan. It was a gathering of 34 people, family members and friends, who scoffed their way through piles of goats cheese, roast beef and a rather phallic looking fish mousse, whose positioning between two potatoes made more than a few ladies blush and a few men laugh out loud.

There were also various sweet treats plus several bottles of Rioja or Chablis depending on your taste.

A nice meal, good company and then a wonderful chocolate birthday cake which did not sport fifty candles due to the fire risk - instead one huge candle that should have come with its own semi clad fireman according to Mrs B.

This was only one part of the birthday celebrations, because very much like the Queen (whose hair style Sue copies very closely) there had been a second and earlier celebration held at Jamie Oliver's new restaurant in Nottingham. It was very nice too but we didn't have phallic fish or candles, these were saved for Sunday.

Anyway, Florrie told me off for not writing a blog she liked - and so throughly chastened I reunite my blogging muscles with the dark recesses of my mind and bring you - rubbish - endless witless, rubbish.


Fortunately I have things to say today - the car has been making a sort of quiet banging noise and I thought I better get it seen to before it becomes louder and more expensive. You will be glad to know that even a gentle, restful almost melodic little bang can cost you an arm and a leg - ask Paul McCartney.

Mrs B needs a new car but that again will be relegated in the list of purchases as I sell a kidney to pay for the repairs of my own sweet chariot.

I got home at about 10.30am, having avoided the news all morning, and settled down to watch The Oscars, which I had recorded. It was a very bad show, the hosts were young and pretty and not up to the job - they allowed Kirk Douglas on stage and I thought he would never go - he'll be back next year as one of the faces in the montage of dearly departed luvvies though.

Colin Firth won - surprise, Natalie Portman won - surprise, Melissa Leo said a rude word - no fucking surprise - the whole thing was awful and then they brought out a children's choir to sing Somewhere Over The Rainbow and I suddenly had the urge to join the Foreign Legion. I resisted though, because I wanted to watch Bargain Hunt.

Well not much else to say today, so I will make my goodbyes and head off to start worrying about tomorrows blog - thanks for that Florrie!