*May contain strong language and material that some people may find offensive!*
Date: Friday 15th May 2020
Quarantine: Day (no idea - lost bloody count now)
Location: Rotherham (well somewhere that ain’t paradise)
Specifically: *On roof of moho with telescopic rifle keeping zombies away from Stuart & Bronwyn.*Or maybe I’m just mooching about in the moho scratching my booftah.
Incredible isn’t it? That I know exactly what you’re thinking. “Sure we have to see lockdown as liberating if we are to survive with our sanitary intact”, “sure we have to get creative in finding ways to ‘see’ distant family members” (in our case thats anyone who lives further than next door) but “why is it you can never find a zombie when you need one” Aha! Spooky eh? How could I have known that!?
Well truth is I don’t but it certainly applies to me. You see after my encounter with some kind of mythical wild beast late on Wednesday evening - grunting, snorting, growling and grunting outside my moho and being laughed at by my so called ‘friends’ I was desperate to prove my point. Something was definitely out there, something supernatural or alien or maybe even alien and supernatural and I needed to prove it.
So Thursday evening - no running away into a virtual world. Instead I have my camera at the ready, I’m fully dressed and my shoes are by the door. I fortify myself with a glass of warm milk, dive under the duvet and peer over the top listening for anything out of the ordinary.
It doesn’t take long.
It doesn’t take long because I fall asleep.
...and wake up at 9.40 a.m!
So much for Captain Victory the great adventurer.
From outside comes the sound of people. Loud chattering emanating from the open windows of the apartments above. A group of neighbours across the way (who began with good intentions of social distancing but gradually gravitated to within a couple of centimetres of each other - less in one case but the least said about that the better) playing that loud, infernal thud thud thud ‘music’.
Blended into this fine wholesome mix from the recklessly irresponsible is added the sound of a mother who has clearly been using her ‘Isolation creativity time to learn a new language.
“Christ chuffin’ ‘ell! Going on 19 ‘n this is his f****** attitude. What is his f****** problem. Wait while I get my hands on the little get”
This new language is clearly catching on because the moment ‘responsible mother’ shuts up I hear a child communicating with his mother from one of the upstairs windows...
“I want summat to eat now, she’s not f****** ‘avin it”
“Look you can ‘ave yours in a minute but I need to see to your sister first!”
“She always gets stuff first why do I ‘ave to effin wait?” “What tha starin’ at yer little shit!?”
They must be creating a wonderful impression at school where no doubt mummy is saying “ee gets on me twatting nerves I’ve no idea weer ‘ee gets is bleedin’ language from!”
Oh lets move on. Depresses me all this stuff.
THE FLYING FRIEND!
Yes it’s true, not making this up at all... hang on I’ll down, catch my breath ‘n start again.
Right
So Rachael is quiet for most of the day (quiet in that I don’t receive any messages from her that is). I message her just to check she’s OK. She’s fine of course, been busy - this time working on her drive, not to mention deep cleaning the house and, GET THIS!! “hovering on the stairs!!!”
I do a double take at the word. Sure enough I didn’t misread it - she definitely said ‘Hovering’. Wow!!! I message her expressing my amazement at her new ability but she was having none of it - “all I did was hover the stairs”. Oh see!! She’s so modest!! Bless her little training shoes!
As if this news wasn’t startling enough I then look closely at the first picture of her driveway. There’s clearly something at the far end, but I can’t quite make it out, eyesight isn’t what it used to be, but it definately appears humanoid and, even more incredibly, it appears to have wings!
Excitedly I grab a magnifying glass and take a closer look. This time there is absolutely no doubt. The figure at the end if Rachaels drive is a faery!!! It’s like the Cottingley faeries all over again! I attach the photo for your perusal so you can see I’m not making this up!
CALL THE MIDWIFE
No not for me! That would make me a biological miracle. I refer to a TV series I would not usually watch. But when in Rome ‘n all that. Bronwyn has begun watching it regularly and since I’m staying with her and Stuart I watch it as well. (It’s that or play about with my mobile which would be rude). It’s an excellent series that has all the ingredients of success excellent acting, spot on casting, and superb, well written storylines.
But one thing bothered me about the episode I was watching today. Women were being offered the opportunity to have a chest X Ray from a mobile X Ray service. It was crazy. The machines we have today give better quality images at far less exposure to radiation. Clearly the producers had no idea about this. It was my public duty to do something before these innocent women were exposed to an unnecessarily high dose of radiation.
I immediately rang the company who make the series to explain that the women must not, under any circumstances, use the X Ray machine when there are much safer ones being produced! They listened carefully for a while then asked me if I was on any medication at the moment and whether I had suffered from any type of mental illness in the past.
OFF WITH IT
I’ve been concerned about many things since the lockdown began; will I have enough money to survive? will I be able to sustain my business until normal service is resumed? How will I cope with the closure of caravan and motorhome parks? But the issue which is rising to prominence at the moment (rising on the top of my head mainly) is my hair. It’s always grown quickly and is also very thick. At the moment I’m starting to feel like a guardsman outside Buckingham Palace.
I’ve made a few enquries but it’s hopeless. Unless you actually have a hairdresser living in your household you’ve pretty much had it. Solution, cut the lot off. It’s something I’ve fancied doing for ages anyway especially in summer. Be nice just to see what it feels like - not having to worry about whether its too thick, needs a trim or if I have any nasties running around in there that I don’t know about.
Success!!
...to a degree. Turns out Bronwyn has some cutting sheers! She has agreed to let me borrow them but with Bronwyn it will be when she’s ready to fetch them. In the meantime I can only wait around dreaming of lawnmowers, weed killer and cutting sheers.
POETRY CORNER
I’m loving this facility to look at posts from way back on Facebook. This morning I discovered a poem that I wrote in 2017, written during the night when I couldn’t sleep! I call it....
The Ballad of Zebadiah Milqueington-Toast
There once was a famous and noble man
Who was famous from coast to coast
Who went by the dashing and noble name
Of Zebidiah Milqueington-Toast
Now toast dressed in the most magnificent cloth
Of himself he sure made the most
He would pamper himself with eu de Cologne
And he could knock up a mean Sunday roast
Now Zebadiah (despite outward appearances)
Was a disappointment to his ilk
In that he was rather poor at the art of defence
And would sooner have a glass of warm milk
Now truth be told our hero
All afeared of mass insurrection
Would charge forward at the sound of "onward me lads"
But always in the opposite direction
When faced with a battle he couldn't avoid
He would turn to his brave men and say
We appear to be somewhat outnumbered lads
So I think we should all run away?
Sadly for Zebidiah as he fought
For king and country and crown
He would call for trousers of red which would not show the blood
But they always brought trousers of brown
Now you may be forgiven for thinking owd Zeb
Was not really much of a man
But in truth he had an excellent brain
And could usually come up with a plan
Now year upon year there had been trouble
Caused by a King who lived nearby
Who believed he was being cheated out of land
And he was puzzled and didn't know why
Now Zebidiah he had other ideas
And rather than go straight of to war
Set up a meeting between this king and himself
So they could discuss land rights and more
After much deliberation and talking
And making it clear they weren't on the fiddle
Zebidiah made the suggestion
That they split the land right down the middle
Well the King of the land was right chuffed with this
And announced that he couldn't be happier
As it avoided the need for battle and bloodshed
Which he said would have been a lot crappier
With this big decision out of the way
The atmosphere was much more relaxed
Because both of the men had conceded
They no longer got up each other's back
So the King in his infinite wisdom
And because they had closed the main gate
Suggested Zebidiah stay to dinner
Rather than try to go home so late
The meal was greatly enjoyed by all
And because the men had such a good session
The King offered a new solution
Where of the land all could share possession
It was decided that they should be allies
One would help the other when in doubt
And they would set up trading rights with others
With which to aid the land throughout
And both the kingdoms would unite
They would share the land together
And enjoy the peace or just hang out
Whatever the climate or weather
So Zebidiah returned home to a heroes praise
Now everyone knew he was on the level
So they had a bit of a whip round
To buy him a gift and a medal
And so my friends it would appear
That many lessons have been learned
For if all had gone of to fight in war
More than fingers would have burned
So consider instead of fighting and strife
We do lots more of thinking
And engaging in sensible dialogue
To save the world from sinking
FACEBOOK MEMORIES
Monday 15th May 2017
We are all concerned these days about data protection but I hadn't realised just how much of a threat this actually was until today. There I was on Facebook minding my own business; uploading material (which is a sight more difficult than uploading data I can tell you) hacking into the Bank of England (bloody bronchitis) and sending blackmailing messages to the pope when I unexpectedly received a PM from a page administrator telling me to remove all my posts and from thenceforth only add one a week.
I could not believe it! Whatever happened to privacy? I was even more angry since I had only recently installed a fence that I was quite proud of. It took me until 3.00 in the bloody morning to remove the posts as I'd been told! Things got worse when I tried to remove posts from the neighbours where I heard cries of "Oi you little b****** that's me bleedin fence put it back or I'll set the dogs on yer".
But the most trouble I encountered was while trying to remove the neighbours posts. I tried desperately to get the postman to hand over the post but he wasn't having any. In desperation I felt somewhat obliged to club him over the head and remove the post from him. My God yer life's not your own these days.
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