Here he is, Dog number 2. Arriving 3rd November. He was called Elmo and that will be on his passport, but his name will be Ossie...named after Chelsea icon Peter Osgood.
One dog is a handful, but two dogs? Twice the fun I'm sure!
Later Mugs, GJ
Friday, 25 October 2019
Twice the fun. Twice the hard work.
Morning Mugs
Here he is, Dog number 2. Arriving 3rd November. He was called Elmo and that will be on his passport, but his name will be Ossie...named after Chelsea icon Peter Osgood.
One dog is a handful, but two dogs? Twice the fun I'm sure!
Later Mugs, GJ
Here he is, Dog number 2. Arriving 3rd November. He was called Elmo and that will be on his passport, but his name will be Ossie...named after Chelsea icon Peter Osgood.
One dog is a handful, but two dogs? Twice the fun I'm sure!
Later Mugs, GJ
Monday, 14 October 2019
Softie Klaxon
Afternoon Mugs,
He's been with us since the 1st May. He chews everything not out of reach. He leaps at the grandchildren and licks them. He licks me. He licks everyone. He play nips from time to time. He needs walking twice a day and constantly needs to go in and out off the garden. He'll eat anything dropped on the floor. He barks at daft times and sometimes for no apparent reason that we can see. The cats either run away from him, or run hissing at him, and they constantly have to bat him away. He's cost us loads in toys, chewy things, food and treats as well as vets bills for castration and a dew claw removal.
Then there's the cost of leads, poo bags, harnesses, collars, trackers and ID tags.
But here's the thing. We love him. And, it seems he loves us. Unconditionally.
So ....what on earth has made us reserve a second dog from the brilliant Cyprus Rescue and Rehome group?
Life is going to change again.
Later Mugs, GJ
He's been with us since the 1st May. He chews everything not out of reach. He leaps at the grandchildren and licks them. He licks me. He licks everyone. He play nips from time to time. He needs walking twice a day and constantly needs to go in and out off the garden. He'll eat anything dropped on the floor. He barks at daft times and sometimes for no apparent reason that we can see. The cats either run away from him, or run hissing at him, and they constantly have to bat him away. He's cost us loads in toys, chewy things, food and treats as well as vets bills for castration and a dew claw removal.
Then there's the cost of leads, poo bags, harnesses, collars, trackers and ID tags.
But here's the thing. We love him. And, it seems he loves us. Unconditionally.
So ....what on earth has made us reserve a second dog from the brilliant Cyprus Rescue and Rehome group?
Life is going to change again.
Later Mugs, GJ
Friday, 27 September 2019
52-48 - the ultimate Weapon of Mass Destruction.
Morning Mugs,
We are not the Mother of all Parliaments, or if we are then we are a bat-shit crazy, alcohol riddled version of one. The one where Mum drinks a couple of bottles of wine, then a few gins and then decides the future direction of the family. Whilst physically and verbally abusing the family and telling them just how much they've ruined her life. All happening whilst Dad sits in the corner on the fence, quietly smoking his pipe and trying to reason in gentle tones but getting shouted down at every turn. Downtrodden and browbeaten into servility and his supine version of the quiet life.
This week an unelected faux-PM used words like 'surrender' and 'betrayal' to describe Brexit and the 16.1m who voted Remain. Yes, 16.1m people are being told to shut the fuck up and back off. So that a Brexit can be forced through with no deal, impacting a huge number of the terminally stupid who voted us out.
And once done, then we'll be told to unite, to be a United Kingdom again. Scotland will be told they're better off in one union but not the other. It isn't a Union, Scotland will be ruled by England. They will be Vichy Scotland. In effect they already are and have been for centuries. I really hope they get their collective senses together and decide to leave. The idea they can't survive without England is laughable. After that I think (and hope) that the people of Northern Ireland (NI) also come to their senses and decide that England will do fuck all for them, and that England doesn't have the money post-brexit to give them what they received from the EU. A unified Ireland would regenerate NI and it's people.
And then Wales. Wales voted to stay so as far as I'm concerned it can continue as an annexe to England. When I see the closures of plants and businesses across Wales I genuinely think why the fuck should I, as an Englishman bail them out? You reap what you sow etc.....
Please note I am also Irish as due to a great fortune my Mum was Irish and therefore one of my greatest treasures is my Irish passport. The best of both worlds, except that one half of those worlds is collapsing in a hurricane of piss, bile and vitriol. One half has become racist, bigoted, homophobic, and is lurching inexorably to becoming a far right state. When that is complete then I'm off to Ireland (or maybe France) and by hook or by crook my family will be given every chance to come with me.
By rights, London which generates huge amounts of wealth for the UK, more than any other economic area, would have great case to declare independence. It could take control of the money it generates. It could get itself ready to put border controls around it and London would be an independent country. It would still be more populous than Wales, NI and Scotland.
United Kingdom? It will never be unified again. It remains England versus the rest. Scotland versus England. NI versus England. North versus South. Young versus Old. Left versus Right. Family versus Family. And as we can see from the family of the faux-PM we have, it has even pitched brother versus brother and sister versus brother.
Leave versus Remain will never ever disappear. The country is fractured, shattered beyond repair to the point that even if Russia invaded then it would be welcomed by many. Even a war wouldn't heal the wounds.
It's fucked. Even a Peoples Vote won't repair the damage. It's the equivalent of being on a sinking ship where 52% of the people voted to sink it and don't care that it's sinking as long as the ship is no longer in the harbour.
Later Mugs, GJ
We are not the Mother of all Parliaments, or if we are then we are a bat-shit crazy, alcohol riddled version of one. The one where Mum drinks a couple of bottles of wine, then a few gins and then decides the future direction of the family. Whilst physically and verbally abusing the family and telling them just how much they've ruined her life. All happening whilst Dad sits in the corner on the fence, quietly smoking his pipe and trying to reason in gentle tones but getting shouted down at every turn. Downtrodden and browbeaten into servility and his supine version of the quiet life.
This week an unelected faux-PM used words like 'surrender' and 'betrayal' to describe Brexit and the 16.1m who voted Remain. Yes, 16.1m people are being told to shut the fuck up and back off. So that a Brexit can be forced through with no deal, impacting a huge number of the terminally stupid who voted us out.
And once done, then we'll be told to unite, to be a United Kingdom again. Scotland will be told they're better off in one union but not the other. It isn't a Union, Scotland will be ruled by England. They will be Vichy Scotland. In effect they already are and have been for centuries. I really hope they get their collective senses together and decide to leave. The idea they can't survive without England is laughable. After that I think (and hope) that the people of Northern Ireland (NI) also come to their senses and decide that England will do fuck all for them, and that England doesn't have the money post-brexit to give them what they received from the EU. A unified Ireland would regenerate NI and it's people.
And then Wales. Wales voted to stay so as far as I'm concerned it can continue as an annexe to England. When I see the closures of plants and businesses across Wales I genuinely think why the fuck should I, as an Englishman bail them out? You reap what you sow etc.....
Please note I am also Irish as due to a great fortune my Mum was Irish and therefore one of my greatest treasures is my Irish passport. The best of both worlds, except that one half of those worlds is collapsing in a hurricane of piss, bile and vitriol. One half has become racist, bigoted, homophobic, and is lurching inexorably to becoming a far right state. When that is complete then I'm off to Ireland (or maybe France) and by hook or by crook my family will be given every chance to come with me.
By rights, London which generates huge amounts of wealth for the UK, more than any other economic area, would have great case to declare independence. It could take control of the money it generates. It could get itself ready to put border controls around it and London would be an independent country. It would still be more populous than Wales, NI and Scotland.
United Kingdom? It will never be unified again. It remains England versus the rest. Scotland versus England. NI versus England. North versus South. Young versus Old. Left versus Right. Family versus Family. And as we can see from the family of the faux-PM we have, it has even pitched brother versus brother and sister versus brother.
Leave versus Remain will never ever disappear. The country is fractured, shattered beyond repair to the point that even if Russia invaded then it would be welcomed by many. Even a war wouldn't heal the wounds.
It's fucked. Even a Peoples Vote won't repair the damage. It's the equivalent of being on a sinking ship where 52% of the people voted to sink it and don't care that it's sinking as long as the ship is no longer in the harbour.
Later Mugs, GJ
Tuesday, 24 September 2019
How's Your Day Going?
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
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
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
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