Morning Mugs,
I woke up this morning to torrential rain. Persistent rain. Not fucking 'showers' as the Met Office like to call rain these days, even if it's being going fo 3 hours. Pricks.
I decided it might be best to try and walk Bertie early. My strategy was to wear a pair of shorts and boat shoes with no socks. This would limit any trouser/sock/trainer soaking issues. yes I do have proper walking boots but they take a long to put on as it takes to walk Bertie and I don't have time to faff about...proper walking boots for proper walks!
Then with wax jacket and cap on we walked into the rain. We normally walk to a local secure field for dog walkers but due to the sheer heavy rain I decided a walk to the bottom of the road and the grassy verges would suffice. Its not like Bertie likes the rain much. This was fine until at a certain point a complete fuckwit in their 'never been off road' 4x4 decided to drive past ma and ignore the torrent of water running alongside the pavement.
Soaked...from head to toe. Just like you'd see in a sitcom. Except it wasn't funny and I wasn't laughing. water ingress had occurred as the water went UP the jacket and DOWN the collar as well. The cap did little to protect the few dry bits on my head.
Oh, I cursed. I shouted. I gave then the full finger and wanker gestures in the faint hope they'd stop, either to apologise or to remonstrate over my language and gestures. I was ready for either, but they drove on, no doubt oblivious, laughing or scared when they saw this raving and drooling lunatic in the rear view mirror.
We walked on to the grass verges, aware of the fact I could not get any wetter now, slightly less angry because it was just footie shorts soaked rather than jeans and trainers.No poo. Lots of wee, but he steadfastly did not do the business. We walked (trudged) back, saturated. I let him into the back garden whilst I I stripped off the wet clothing in the garage. I had dry clothes in there as an insurance. I let him in, dried him off and decided to use the loo quickly. I came back out to a trail of runny, smelly dog shit from the kitchen door to the living room door. It was like an H-block dirty protest.
As I retched my way around with loo paper, baby wipes and poo bags cleaning it up I knew bigger equipment was needed. Cue the next 30..yes 30 minutes spent using the VAX carpet cleaner (a bloody godsend if you have pets and grandchildren) cleaning the carpet fully. Copious amounts of carpet freshener applied and the smell has almost gone. Almost. I can't help thinking it may never fully go. Only the unadapted nose of visitors will tell us that.
All of this before 9am.
Hows your day going then?
Later Mugs, GJ
Tuesday, 24 September 2019
Friday, 13 September 2019
The Reality Bump
Morning Mugs,
I've been blessed in truth with most aspects of my life. Two lovely daughters, two lovely grandchildren, a nice house, decent cars and a mobile home placed on a site 5 minutes from the Med in the South of France....amongst other things. At this time the good far outweighs any bad, which I think is how most people like things. Yes, bad things are needed or how else do you truly appreciate the good things. Those bright eyed bushy tailed optimists who tell you life is great in every way are basically liars. It's not human nature to live in ecstatic bliss.
After just over 3 weeks in France I'm back. Every year I think that 3 weeks is enough, especially when added to the cruise, the battlefields tour, the week at the mobile on my own and the trip to Budapest, all this year. However, I do think there is a subconscious thing going on. I'm 58 now....if the government allows it and all goes well I could be retiring in a few years. And I wonder if this sits in the mind and makes it harder to come back from holidays and breaks and once more put nose to grindstone?
I came back to over a thousand emails from work, that's the best part of 2 days catch-up alone just sifting those into order and making sense of the conversations. But despite feeling ready to come after the 3 weeks, the actual dread of it starts building few days before leaving. It's like an elephant in the room looming large over the last few days of a well earned holiday. This year, the day before the departure drive, I was sat at the bar smiling throughout teeth gritted with envy at those staying there for a few more weeks. just the ambience of the area, the restaurants, the actual true 'laissez-faire' way of life the French (and it seems the Irish) have. I come back to people smiling at the joy of work, most admittedly younger than me and I wonder what lies behind the faux enjoyment of work and life in a divided and nasty shithole like the UK has become. is it just youthful vigour? Is it genuine excitement at being full of ideas (and mostly shit ones at that)?
I prefer to think it as them being untarnished by age, experience and the trials of life. I envy that in some ways, maybe once I was like that? Now I come back to work, and like a midfield journeyman I just put my head down and try to get on with the job. No career ambition left, no super bright ideas, just a rat race with maybe a glimpse of a finish line at the end in a few years. A finish line that once crossed, will let me get up when I want, do another degree, walk the dog when I want, go to the pub when I want.....a time when for the twilight years I might just be free to do what I want.
Until then, back to life..back to reality!
Later Mugs
I've been blessed in truth with most aspects of my life. Two lovely daughters, two lovely grandchildren, a nice house, decent cars and a mobile home placed on a site 5 minutes from the Med in the South of France....amongst other things. At this time the good far outweighs any bad, which I think is how most people like things. Yes, bad things are needed or how else do you truly appreciate the good things. Those bright eyed bushy tailed optimists who tell you life is great in every way are basically liars. It's not human nature to live in ecstatic bliss.
After just over 3 weeks in France I'm back. Every year I think that 3 weeks is enough, especially when added to the cruise, the battlefields tour, the week at the mobile on my own and the trip to Budapest, all this year. However, I do think there is a subconscious thing going on. I'm 58 now....if the government allows it and all goes well I could be retiring in a few years. And I wonder if this sits in the mind and makes it harder to come back from holidays and breaks and once more put nose to grindstone?
I came back to over a thousand emails from work, that's the best part of 2 days catch-up alone just sifting those into order and making sense of the conversations. But despite feeling ready to come after the 3 weeks, the actual dread of it starts building few days before leaving. It's like an elephant in the room looming large over the last few days of a well earned holiday. This year, the day before the departure drive, I was sat at the bar smiling throughout teeth gritted with envy at those staying there for a few more weeks. just the ambience of the area, the restaurants, the actual true 'laissez-faire' way of life the French (and it seems the Irish) have. I come back to people smiling at the joy of work, most admittedly younger than me and I wonder what lies behind the faux enjoyment of work and life in a divided and nasty shithole like the UK has become. is it just youthful vigour? Is it genuine excitement at being full of ideas (and mostly shit ones at that)?
I prefer to think it as them being untarnished by age, experience and the trials of life. I envy that in some ways, maybe once I was like that? Now I come back to work, and like a midfield journeyman I just put my head down and try to get on with the job. No career ambition left, no super bright ideas, just a rat race with maybe a glimpse of a finish line at the end in a few years. A finish line that once crossed, will let me get up when I want, do another degree, walk the dog when I want, go to the pub when I want.....a time when for the twilight years I might just be free to do what I want.
Until then, back to life..back to reality!
Later Mugs
Thursday, 1 August 2019
Well..its been month or two
Afternoon Mugs
It's been a month or two since I posted anything. There's nothing sinister there, I've just been busy on holidays or working.
The first holiday was a cruise around the Adriatic for a week. If you take the hellhole of Naples airport out of the week, then it was just lovely. Cruising gets a bad rap , with visions of tea dances, tuxes and blue-rinses. In fast, there's no doubt it appeals to the older, perhaps over 35s demographic, it is very different if you go on TUI and their Marella ships. They are all inclusive and they cater right across the board for all ages and backgrounds. If you want ton wear tuxes and evening ball gowns then you can. Likewise if you prefer shorts and casual shirts, then this is fine. In one week we saw Split and Dubrovnik in Croatia, both of which were stunning, we visited a sleepy place called Ancona onItaly's east coast which I loved. We visited Venice...but I found that rather too crowded. I enjoy the obligatory gondola ride, and even the 15€ half pint of beer in St Marks Square. But the constant top walking speed of shuffling ground me down and I was ready to go back to the ship at 16:00.Overall thought he cruise ws great and the Tuk-tuk tour of Dubrovnik stands as a highlight along with the close sail by of Stromboli in the evening, red and orange lighting the sky from it's summit.
We've booked next year for the Aegean this time.
Next was a week in the new Money Pit (see posts passim) to prepare it for the Siblu renters. This means basically ridding the mobile of the good stuff and putting the vanilla inventory back in place. But it was lovely warm week and a great chance to just relax, read and recharge batteries. I didn't get a single hangover and that in itself was a joy.
Then 10 days ago, I went with some friends and some strangers on a WW1 battlefields tour. This was eye opening at times. We visited The Somme battlefields and memorials on day 1, and then days 2,3 and 4 were all about Flanders with us being based in Ypres. My biggest surprise was just how beautiful Ypres is...for some reason I'd imagined Guildford-lite but instead got a beautiful picture postcard town. The Menin Gate is a sight to behold (as were Thiepval and Vimy Ridge) and the last post is one of those 'bucket list' moments I didn't know existed until experiencing it.
More to follow I expect, but the biggest non-war related discovery for me was........the fact that German beer, as good as it is, is NOT the best I've tasted. No, this honour now firmly belongs with Belgium and after a careful investigation of several bars this result now seems permanent!
Later Mugs, GJ
It's been a month or two since I posted anything. There's nothing sinister there, I've just been busy on holidays or working.
The first holiday was a cruise around the Adriatic for a week. If you take the hellhole of Naples airport out of the week, then it was just lovely. Cruising gets a bad rap , with visions of tea dances, tuxes and blue-rinses. In fast, there's no doubt it appeals to the older, perhaps over 35s demographic, it is very different if you go on TUI and their Marella ships. They are all inclusive and they cater right across the board for all ages and backgrounds. If you want ton wear tuxes and evening ball gowns then you can. Likewise if you prefer shorts and casual shirts, then this is fine. In one week we saw Split and Dubrovnik in Croatia, both of which were stunning, we visited a sleepy place called Ancona onItaly's east coast which I loved. We visited Venice...but I found that rather too crowded. I enjoy the obligatory gondola ride, and even the 15€ half pint of beer in St Marks Square. But the constant top walking speed of shuffling ground me down and I was ready to go back to the ship at 16:00.Overall thought he cruise ws great and the Tuk-tuk tour of Dubrovnik stands as a highlight along with the close sail by of Stromboli in the evening, red and orange lighting the sky from it's summit.
We've booked next year for the Aegean this time.
Next was a week in the new Money Pit (see posts passim) to prepare it for the Siblu renters. This means basically ridding the mobile of the good stuff and putting the vanilla inventory back in place. But it was lovely warm week and a great chance to just relax, read and recharge batteries. I didn't get a single hangover and that in itself was a joy.
Then 10 days ago, I went with some friends and some strangers on a WW1 battlefields tour. This was eye opening at times. We visited The Somme battlefields and memorials on day 1, and then days 2,3 and 4 were all about Flanders with us being based in Ypres. My biggest surprise was just how beautiful Ypres is...for some reason I'd imagined Guildford-lite but instead got a beautiful picture postcard town. The Menin Gate is a sight to behold (as were Thiepval and Vimy Ridge) and the last post is one of those 'bucket list' moments I didn't know existed until experiencing it.
More to follow I expect, but the biggest non-war related discovery for me was........the fact that German beer, as good as it is, is NOT the best I've tasted. No, this honour now firmly belongs with Belgium and after a careful investigation of several bars this result now seems permanent!
Later Mugs, GJ
Monday, 10 June 2019
In memoriam....
Morning Mugs
Well, far be it from me to be cliche ridden or stereotypical...but bloody hell hasn't June been a stinker of a month thus far? June 1st was a lovely warm sunny day. Since then it seems to have been unrelenting shite with one day last week where I was convinced it was February. Today, the 10th, it is currently 12 degrees outside, dull grey skies and RAIN. Constant unrelenting rain.
A note to all weather people here. if I get wet through from front door to pavement, then not is NOT drizzle. If it rains non-stop for more than an hour, or like today since I got up at 7.....this is NOT FUCKING SHOWERS...it is RAIN. Got it? RAIN!!! It annoys the crap out of me when smiling weatherman/lady points to a screen and says 'showers here'....when I know its been constant for 3 hours.
Anyway, I digress....my question here is this....all of you Mugs that did nothing but moan about the heatwave last year...are you happy with this shite? Are you really that miserable that you think cold and rain is better than sun and heat?
People book weddings for the summer because..you know...it's generally nicer to get married on a sunny warm day. When it's sunny and warm, people smile more. People are generally happier. Pubs are fuller. The mood of the populous lifts on a summers day. Remember how lovely watching World Cup matches was last year? Pub gardens open with people drinking happily. Public spaces showing games in big screens to people in shorts and flip flops. Blimey if that was this June, they'd need Parka's and wellies.
So my message to those of you who prefer this crap weather to the heatwave is simple. You miserable, joyless , doom-laden fuckwits. You're probably all far bright brexiteers as well.
Later Mugs, GJ
Well, far be it from me to be cliche ridden or stereotypical...but bloody hell hasn't June been a stinker of a month thus far? June 1st was a lovely warm sunny day. Since then it seems to have been unrelenting shite with one day last week where I was convinced it was February. Today, the 10th, it is currently 12 degrees outside, dull grey skies and RAIN. Constant unrelenting rain.
A note to all weather people here. if I get wet through from front door to pavement, then not is NOT drizzle. If it rains non-stop for more than an hour, or like today since I got up at 7.....this is NOT FUCKING SHOWERS...it is RAIN. Got it? RAIN!!! It annoys the crap out of me when smiling weatherman/lady points to a screen and says 'showers here'....when I know its been constant for 3 hours.
Anyway, I digress....my question here is this....all of you Mugs that did nothing but moan about the heatwave last year...are you happy with this shite? Are you really that miserable that you think cold and rain is better than sun and heat?
People book weddings for the summer because..you know...it's generally nicer to get married on a sunny warm day. When it's sunny and warm, people smile more. People are generally happier. Pubs are fuller. The mood of the populous lifts on a summers day. Remember how lovely watching World Cup matches was last year? Pub gardens open with people drinking happily. Public spaces showing games in big screens to people in shorts and flip flops. Blimey if that was this June, they'd need Parka's and wellies.
So my message to those of you who prefer this crap weather to the heatwave is simple. You miserable, joyless , doom-laden fuckwits. You're probably all far bright brexiteers as well.
Later Mugs, GJ
Wednesday, 22 May 2019
The Joys of Puppy Parenting
Morning Mugs,
A new addition has arrived in the family. A dog. A puppy dog. 16 weeks old, we've had him 2 weeks now. We got him from a fantastic organisation run by ex-pat volunteers in Cyprus. So he's a Cypriot dog. He's a cross...a mongrel...Heinz 57...call it what you like, I am never going to be the sort of person who insists on pure breed dogs. Rescue dogs have something about them, they seem to know they have been given a chance from where there was little or none when it came to a secure life. Here he is below....
His name is Bertie and we liked it so much we decide to leave it and not change it on arrival. We think it suits him.
So why a Cypriot dog and not one from a UK rescue? Well, we wanted a puppy because we have 2 rather haughty house cats. One , the girl, seems to start every day with a completely new memory and nothing of what has gone previously, the other is an alpha male Tom and he thinks (or knows) the house is his domain. So we thought a puppy would adapt better to the, and maybe any semblance of maternal instinct and pack leader instinct would help the cats adapt to him. This is a 'work in progress' but after just 2 weeks we think we have a North and South Korea impasse situation. They're not quite playing with each other yet, but there is a tolerance being reached with less bats, hisses and growls from the cats, and less sudden playful movements from Bertie. UK rescues rarely get pups it seems, and when they do the costs seemed quite high. Plus the criteria for acceptance looked overly stringent....we had an insecure back garden but the Cyprus Rescue accepted our word this was going to be fixed with an entire new fence. UK Centres implied it had to be done first before consideration. I understand the desire for perfect adoption homes, but it's counter-productive if you just put barriers in place and won't take people on their word. I do wonder how many potentially excellent dog owners have been put off by what might appear to be overly officious bureaucracy in trying to offer a dog a new home.
The upshot of this is we have become part time animal psychologists. We are now dog walkers. I am starting my training on Sunday..I will take Bertie of course. I'm now hawk-eye when it comes to spotting toilet time. But also am very adept at quick carpet cleaning and disinfecting. I walk him around the (now secure) garden because he's an inquisitive puppy and if there's a slight flaw then I'm sure he'll find it. My bank balance is poorer for treats, toys, chews and anything else the family think would be good for Bertie. I'm learning how to give him time alone each day and ignore the pitiful whining and crying. I'm learning how lovely it is for him to sleep in his crate in our bedroom at night. I'm learning that there is never a point in the day when I'm not thinking about him or wondering what he's up to.
I'm remembering just how exhausting a puppy is, but also just how loving they are and how rewarding it is to have them in the the house.
Welcome to England Bertie, the weather is shit, there are lots of dog snobs, lots of horrible people and lots of dig unfriendly pubs. But they are all outweighed by by the dog lovers, the nice people and the great pubs and places that welcome dogs. Maybe the only thing we can't improve on Cyprus is the weather.
Later Mugs, GJ
A new addition has arrived in the family. A dog. A puppy dog. 16 weeks old, we've had him 2 weeks now. We got him from a fantastic organisation run by ex-pat volunteers in Cyprus. So he's a Cypriot dog. He's a cross...a mongrel...Heinz 57...call it what you like, I am never going to be the sort of person who insists on pure breed dogs. Rescue dogs have something about them, they seem to know they have been given a chance from where there was little or none when it came to a secure life. Here he is below....
His name is Bertie and we liked it so much we decide to leave it and not change it on arrival. We think it suits him.
So why a Cypriot dog and not one from a UK rescue? Well, we wanted a puppy because we have 2 rather haughty house cats. One , the girl, seems to start every day with a completely new memory and nothing of what has gone previously, the other is an alpha male Tom and he thinks (or knows) the house is his domain. So we thought a puppy would adapt better to the, and maybe any semblance of maternal instinct and pack leader instinct would help the cats adapt to him. This is a 'work in progress' but after just 2 weeks we think we have a North and South Korea impasse situation. They're not quite playing with each other yet, but there is a tolerance being reached with less bats, hisses and growls from the cats, and less sudden playful movements from Bertie. UK rescues rarely get pups it seems, and when they do the costs seemed quite high. Plus the criteria for acceptance looked overly stringent....we had an insecure back garden but the Cyprus Rescue accepted our word this was going to be fixed with an entire new fence. UK Centres implied it had to be done first before consideration. I understand the desire for perfect adoption homes, but it's counter-productive if you just put barriers in place and won't take people on their word. I do wonder how many potentially excellent dog owners have been put off by what might appear to be overly officious bureaucracy in trying to offer a dog a new home.
The upshot of this is we have become part time animal psychologists. We are now dog walkers. I am starting my training on Sunday..I will take Bertie of course. I'm now hawk-eye when it comes to spotting toilet time. But also am very adept at quick carpet cleaning and disinfecting. I walk him around the (now secure) garden because he's an inquisitive puppy and if there's a slight flaw then I'm sure he'll find it. My bank balance is poorer for treats, toys, chews and anything else the family think would be good for Bertie. I'm learning how to give him time alone each day and ignore the pitiful whining and crying. I'm learning how lovely it is for him to sleep in his crate in our bedroom at night. I'm learning that there is never a point in the day when I'm not thinking about him or wondering what he's up to.
I'm remembering just how exhausting a puppy is, but also just how loving they are and how rewarding it is to have them in the the house.
Welcome to England Bertie, the weather is shit, there are lots of dog snobs, lots of horrible people and lots of dig unfriendly pubs. But they are all outweighed by by the dog lovers, the nice people and the great pubs and places that welcome dogs. Maybe the only thing we can't improve on Cyprus is the weather.
Later Mugs, GJ
Thursday, 9 May 2019
Lynch Mob / Groupthink Britain.
Morning Mugs,
I'm a big fan of the BBC and everything it supplies. Or I was. But there is no doubt it has got more and more rotten recently. It regularly platforms hard right liars and cheats such as Farage, Duncan-Smith, Rees-Mogg...it has interviewed Gerard Batten for fucks sake. The utterly despicable, lying and cheating ERG are often interviewed. Jacob Rees-Mogg, a back bencher gets more BBC TV and radio airtime that Tom Watson or David Lidington.
And then today they sack Danny Baker for a misjudged tweet. He admitted it was a poor judgement call. He apologised. he took the tweet down. But this wasn't enough for the BBC so they sacked him.
It all smacks of a number of things. The first is ageism. Baker is 61 so in my view they had the perfect opportunity to remove an experienced, funny, eccentric presenter and can now replace him with some dull, younger fuckwit in the mould of Dermot O' Leary...surely the dullest, blandest prick to grace a TV or radio station. It also removes a working class presenter, so no doubt they can get some ex-grad presenter in. Someone for the millennials. It also doffs the cap towards privilege. They can look some minor royals in the eye safe in the knowledge the establishment is less infected by someone from the rougher side of the tracks.
It was cowardly, craven, overtly politically correct action. It was arse gravy. And now 5 live has lost another listener. LBC may field cunts like Farage, but the allow other presenters to dig him out for the racist gobshite he is. But they have excellence in James O' Brien, Shelagh Fogarty and Eddie Mair and now my speech radio patronage goes there.
Something is rotten at the core of the BBC. The hipsters and bleeding hearts are in charge now. Expect more blandness. Expect more forced diversity. Expect more PC. Expect less support over the funding model. Because right now I hope they ditch the licence and allow the thing to whither on the vine. Netflix and Prime are the future of ad-free TV.
In the meantime, the Danny Baker Show podcasts are treasured items on my iPhone.
Later Mugs, GJ
I'm a big fan of the BBC and everything it supplies. Or I was. But there is no doubt it has got more and more rotten recently. It regularly platforms hard right liars and cheats such as Farage, Duncan-Smith, Rees-Mogg...it has interviewed Gerard Batten for fucks sake. The utterly despicable, lying and cheating ERG are often interviewed. Jacob Rees-Mogg, a back bencher gets more BBC TV and radio airtime that Tom Watson or David Lidington.
And then today they sack Danny Baker for a misjudged tweet. He admitted it was a poor judgement call. He apologised. he took the tweet down. But this wasn't enough for the BBC so they sacked him.
It all smacks of a number of things. The first is ageism. Baker is 61 so in my view they had the perfect opportunity to remove an experienced, funny, eccentric presenter and can now replace him with some dull, younger fuckwit in the mould of Dermot O' Leary...surely the dullest, blandest prick to grace a TV or radio station. It also removes a working class presenter, so no doubt they can get some ex-grad presenter in. Someone for the millennials. It also doffs the cap towards privilege. They can look some minor royals in the eye safe in the knowledge the establishment is less infected by someone from the rougher side of the tracks.
It was cowardly, craven, overtly politically correct action. It was arse gravy. And now 5 live has lost another listener. LBC may field cunts like Farage, but the allow other presenters to dig him out for the racist gobshite he is. But they have excellence in James O' Brien, Shelagh Fogarty and Eddie Mair and now my speech radio patronage goes there.
Something is rotten at the core of the BBC. The hipsters and bleeding hearts are in charge now. Expect more blandness. Expect more forced diversity. Expect more PC. Expect less support over the funding model. Because right now I hope they ditch the licence and allow the thing to whither on the vine. Netflix and Prime are the future of ad-free TV.
In the meantime, the Danny Baker Show podcasts are treasured items on my iPhone.
Later Mugs, GJ
Growing Older - Part 3 of many
Morning Mugs
I love walking football. It's a great way to get fitter. it allows the over 50s a great way to play the game they love but are excluded from because of a natural inability to compete with much young players.
However, for the second time yesterday, and after a few weeks of improving play, the other hamstring pulled yesterday. No...I wasn't thinking I was 18 in a 57 year old body this time, it was purely a trainer sticking to the floor and a subsequent tumble which pulled the hammy.
But it does make me question why bother trying to get fit doing something you enjoy.
Later Mugs, GJ
I love walking football. It's a great way to get fitter. it allows the over 50s a great way to play the game they love but are excluded from because of a natural inability to compete with much young players.
However, for the second time yesterday, and after a few weeks of improving play, the other hamstring pulled yesterday. No...I wasn't thinking I was 18 in a 57 year old body this time, it was purely a trainer sticking to the floor and a subsequent tumble which pulled the hammy.
But it does make me question why bother trying to get fit doing something you enjoy.
Later Mugs, GJ
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