Education
Its all abaht educashun innit?
Yep, that might apply if I'd gone to School in the late 80'/90's, but I didn't. I am a 70's schoolkid and that's why I can read, write, add , multiply, divide and converse, without having had to go to University to do it. Alright, I am at the Open University now, but if the Careers Officers had bothered to tell me that Uni would be 3 or 4 years of sex, dope, more sex, drink, even more sex...with maybe 3 hours of studying per week, with an honours degree at the end and a good job with good pay, then I might have stayed for A Levels and then gone to Uni. But they didn't. They said it was like school, that it was hard work, that it was "unattainable to people like you". Well, fuck them, I bet I earn more money than they ever did. But then their job was to judge people who had no idea what they wanted to do and then send them out to companies or jobs where we could be knocked into shape by the system.
My school, like so many others, was a rough suburban, city edge school. We had a grammar stream (I was in it), and therefore the strange inverse snobbery of the "comprehensive" system kicked into place. If I was intelligent then why wasn't I at Grammar School (not posh enough, and my mates wanted to go to this school), if I was intelligent then I was posh, therefore I was a swot, therefore I could legimitately be bullied, because swots were weeds, and weeds wouldn't fight back. They saw the flaw in this argument when I decked Wanker Gibson for nicking he fags I had nicked from my mum. After that I knocked his mate over as well, and he cried to the Teacher. I got a whack from the teacher, who kept my fags, but winked at me as well. That's when I knew I was as good as the others. I would never be the toughest, and would lose a few fights, but not many gambled on the fact that they would win. As with most bullies, they get scared off at the thought of a fat lip, sore bollocks (I knew where to kick)...even if they won! Nobody likes getting hurt, or worse still being seen to get hurt. I also knew that humour was a great winner, so my reputation as a funny little geezer grew. With that, came the confidence and belief and the humour came even easier. I can take the piss, but in an inclusive manner that doesn't hurt or upset people. I can take stories and anecdotes and colour them in to make people laugh. I do this because it is better to be liked than disliked. Those who don't get me, don't often like me, and I don't often like them. They are hard work, and have no lives. They are the serious ones.
Anyway,more on my past another time. The point is that under the Tories the institutions that suffered the most were...
1.) The schools, by virtue of under-investment, shit pay, sale of assets, lack of morale, bad press from Thatch and gang. Private education was encouraged, state education was discarded. Is it any wonder the standards fell during those years. DC is a governor at 2 schools, and I know that this patronizing bunch of bastards are actually keeping their promise of greater investment to try and bring the schools back to the standard they should be. Unpalatabe to a lot of people who think even more should be spent, but the fact is if 100% of our GDP was pumped into schools, those people would be moaning about the roads, the libraries, the railways etc etc ad infinitum. Teenager and Baby go to state schools. Sure private education has a higher chance of giving them a better education, but it ISN'T guaranteed. There are privately educated drop outs and heroin addicts as well. I am happy for them to get a few knocks, have a few ups and downs, make mistakes, get into scrapes, get hearts broken etc. That is as much a part of education as being shown or taught things in a class. I also value having some of my money for my life, and the life I provide them, such as 3 holidays per year, violin lessons, singing lessons, guitar lessons. That's my balance for my family, and me.
2.) The hospitals. Same as the schools. What about this though. If Thatch had her way and te NHS was dismantled for a private service then if you had a heart attack, you would then be excluded from any policy for further attacks as you are a high risk. The very thing you need the most, you can't have, and there would be such a minimal state system the chances are you would have no chance. Sure, get BUPA if you can afford it, it helps alleviate the load on the NHS, but the fundamental backbone of health care in the UK is the NHS. I will pay more tax to keep it alive. Again, Blair and the other nannies are keeping their promises here, and people forget just how bad the Tories let the NHS become. They were strangling it deliberately to justify the spread of private health care!.
I am still fundamentally a socialist, but a champagne one!
Later, GrocerJack
Wednesday, 31 March 2004
On and on and on...
Chicken Gooner thinks I'm pissed off and down because of my last post. Nah, not really, there is a difference between that and bored, and I'm just bored.
My company car has to go back because of the change of role. Not a problem because it costs me over £330 per month in tax and personal contribution anyway. So I've been looking for a new car for DC. She drives our other car, which is quite a big motor about the size of a 5-series. So she said, why don't I drive Goldie (the other car) and get her a smaller motor for running the kids around, but one that is capable of handling the odd motorway run. So we tested a Seat leon (fast, but a bit basic inside). DC fancied the Peugeot 307, so we tried to get one for a test drive. Apparently though, there is a huge Peugeot eating monster on the loose, because they couldn't supply us with one - no matter what engine or model, the 307 does not exist in the UK for a test drive. So, I looked over one in the local dealer (nope they didn't have a test drive model) and liked it enough to ring the dealer I am going to use. "Great" said he "shouldn't be an issue" . Today he called apparently there isn't a Peugeot 307 in the country available in any of the 5 (yes 5) colours we gave him. Apparently Peugeot are about to change the engine availability on the 307 diesels (for that is what I wanted, yes I am a tight bastard) and so he can't order it for me or give me a delivery date. You see, there's either a Peugeot eating monster out there, or it's a personal conspiracy against me!
Peugeot, you are about as much good as a chocolate teapot when it comes to Customer Service, and therefore I assume if you can't look after potential customers, and get that basic bit right, then your cars are rubbish as well.
I am going to order a Vauxhall Meriva instead, so if you know anything about them, then drop me a mail or a comment.
Later, Jack the Grocer
Chicken Gooner thinks I'm pissed off and down because of my last post. Nah, not really, there is a difference between that and bored, and I'm just bored.
My company car has to go back because of the change of role. Not a problem because it costs me over £330 per month in tax and personal contribution anyway. So I've been looking for a new car for DC. She drives our other car, which is quite a big motor about the size of a 5-series. So she said, why don't I drive Goldie (the other car) and get her a smaller motor for running the kids around, but one that is capable of handling the odd motorway run. So we tested a Seat leon (fast, but a bit basic inside). DC fancied the Peugeot 307, so we tried to get one for a test drive. Apparently though, there is a huge Peugeot eating monster on the loose, because they couldn't supply us with one - no matter what engine or model, the 307 does not exist in the UK for a test drive. So, I looked over one in the local dealer (nope they didn't have a test drive model) and liked it enough to ring the dealer I am going to use. "Great" said he "shouldn't be an issue" . Today he called apparently there isn't a Peugeot 307 in the country available in any of the 5 (yes 5) colours we gave him. Apparently Peugeot are about to change the engine availability on the 307 diesels (for that is what I wanted, yes I am a tight bastard) and so he can't order it for me or give me a delivery date. You see, there's either a Peugeot eating monster out there, or it's a personal conspiracy against me!
Peugeot, you are about as much good as a chocolate teapot when it comes to Customer Service, and therefore I assume if you can't look after potential customers, and get that basic bit right, then your cars are rubbish as well.
I am going to order a Vauxhall Meriva instead, so if you know anything about them, then drop me a mail or a comment.
Later, Jack the Grocer
Trapped....
Back to work today - and I have to finally admit something. I'm bored shitless by the new role. My old role might have been hectic, but I talked to people, sparred with them, laughed with them and annoyed them. Now, it's like I'm on my own, not important. Persona non gratis. There was some promise last week, but now we have a new software tool which is integral to my role and my ability to carry it out. And guess what, the tool doesn't deliver a single thing that I could do on the supposedly crap old system. Yep, in typical big organization style, we get rid of stuff that works, replace it with more cumbersome and less effective stuff, consequently pissing off the users, whilst preening, clucking salesman and Project Managers give themselves corporate blow jobs on the success of "delivering this new and exciting tool" into our lives. Wankers is the word that springs to mind. So today, I answered all my emails in 10 minutes, tried to generate the daily and weekly reports for The Top Table (Sandman, M etc) from the new system, to no avail. In fact, at one point I thought it had let me generate something useful, and also allowed me to email it to The Top Table and The Middle Table (the people at my level). Unfortunately ...no...it emailed something to all of them and when they tried to read it, they did not have sufficient access. How shit is that? So I can generate a report, but if I want everyone to see it I have to print it and send it via internal mail...or cut and paste each field into a Microsoft Word document for subsequent emailing. Now, the truth is I don't have anything much else to do at the moment, aside from the odd meeting where nothing happens, and nothing is decided, but I resent using my active mind to such a dull purpose and refuse to sit there all day like some sort of "human word processor" taking automatic reports and putting them into another format via a manual cut and paste and sending it to people who won't read it. Once again the Ministry of Crap Design has cast its dark shadow over my life. I feel trapped, demotivated and demoralized. This weekend can't come quick enough.
So, as this seems to be my most productive forum at the moment I thought I'd share this little gripe with you.
Sally, you commented on my posts - the reason I didn't tell DC was the same reason as Salam Pax (see new link) in his Dear Raeed blog noted. Once his friends and family knew what he was up to, they would all clam up and not talk to him, unless he swore not to use their stuff in his posts. Which would defeat a lot of the object of my posts. I know I am running the risk of DC finding out, and then being accused of duplicity, but at the moment I don't think she'd understand my reasons or my purpose.
Teenager has been nice to me for 3 days now. I am worried by this. I think it's the build up to telling me something has been broken or lost....something that until now I wouldn't have noticed. It can't be that good to be as suspicious about her motives, but she is becoming very self aware and very clever. An interesting battle of wills is developing between me and her, although not as serious as the one with DC. DC and Teenager seem to be entering the typical Mother/Female Teenage daughter stage, where one forgets what it's like, and the other is trying to find out what it's like. Baby is now completely bemused by this and has subsequently become very clingy to me - of course I don't mind this because she is still so cute, and therefore my "hero" factor rises, which is an ego boost to any Dad.
Time for lunch already.....blimey that went fast (NOT!)
Later, Jack the Grocer
Back to work today - and I have to finally admit something. I'm bored shitless by the new role. My old role might have been hectic, but I talked to people, sparred with them, laughed with them and annoyed them. Now, it's like I'm on my own, not important. Persona non gratis. There was some promise last week, but now we have a new software tool which is integral to my role and my ability to carry it out. And guess what, the tool doesn't deliver a single thing that I could do on the supposedly crap old system. Yep, in typical big organization style, we get rid of stuff that works, replace it with more cumbersome and less effective stuff, consequently pissing off the users, whilst preening, clucking salesman and Project Managers give themselves corporate blow jobs on the success of "delivering this new and exciting tool" into our lives. Wankers is the word that springs to mind. So today, I answered all my emails in 10 minutes, tried to generate the daily and weekly reports for The Top Table (Sandman, M etc) from the new system, to no avail. In fact, at one point I thought it had let me generate something useful, and also allowed me to email it to The Top Table and The Middle Table (the people at my level). Unfortunately ...no...it emailed something to all of them and when they tried to read it, they did not have sufficient access. How shit is that? So I can generate a report, but if I want everyone to see it I have to print it and send it via internal mail...or cut and paste each field into a Microsoft Word document for subsequent emailing. Now, the truth is I don't have anything much else to do at the moment, aside from the odd meeting where nothing happens, and nothing is decided, but I resent using my active mind to such a dull purpose and refuse to sit there all day like some sort of "human word processor" taking automatic reports and putting them into another format via a manual cut and paste and sending it to people who won't read it. Once again the Ministry of Crap Design has cast its dark shadow over my life. I feel trapped, demotivated and demoralized. This weekend can't come quick enough.
So, as this seems to be my most productive forum at the moment I thought I'd share this little gripe with you.
Sally, you commented on my posts - the reason I didn't tell DC was the same reason as Salam Pax (see new link) in his Dear Raeed blog noted. Once his friends and family knew what he was up to, they would all clam up and not talk to him, unless he swore not to use their stuff in his posts. Which would defeat a lot of the object of my posts. I know I am running the risk of DC finding out, and then being accused of duplicity, but at the moment I don't think she'd understand my reasons or my purpose.
Teenager has been nice to me for 3 days now. I am worried by this. I think it's the build up to telling me something has been broken or lost....something that until now I wouldn't have noticed. It can't be that good to be as suspicious about her motives, but she is becoming very self aware and very clever. An interesting battle of wills is developing between me and her, although not as serious as the one with DC. DC and Teenager seem to be entering the typical Mother/Female Teenage daughter stage, where one forgets what it's like, and the other is trying to find out what it's like. Baby is now completely bemused by this and has subsequently become very clingy to me - of course I don't mind this because she is still so cute, and therefore my "hero" factor rises, which is an ego boost to any Dad.
Time for lunch already.....blimey that went fast (NOT!)
Later, Jack the Grocer
Tuesday, 30 March 2004
A Quiet Day...
Today has been one of the quietest I can remember - me off for a day, kids at school, DC at work. You start to relish a bit of peace and quiet when youm get a bit older and days like this are one of the best ways to switch the mind down a bit and relax. Today has been that day. Back to work tomorrow and then the final day before the big weekend. I had a look at the weather report again as today is such a nice day and I don't want to tempt fate but it is different to the one from yesterday.
There has been a report from the government, or The nannies as I prefer to call them. Apparently our kids like the sun too much and spend too long playing outside when its sunny. Jesus fucking Christ, as if we see a lot of the bloody thing anyway. My kids are stuck in day after day during the winter because of the poxy rain and grim windy conditions. When it's sunny, of course they want to go out...so do I. Apparently though we can't be trusted to take a few precautions to prevent burning, no...we're all too fucking stupid. So we get another wanky report from some overpaid stuffed shirt government scientist cum sociologist ramming more "good health" shit at us. Listen, leave us alone, we've got this far pretty much OK and by ourselves. Message to Blair and gang - Keep your bullshit studies to yourself and stop patronising me, my family, my friends - give us some credit and keep your pseudo-socialist , bleeding heart, nanny state noses out of our lives. It's enough to make me reach for the ciggies.....
Don't smoke
Don't drink
Don't drive
Don't sunbathe
Don't eat burgers
Don't use sugar
Don't eat sweets
Don't have sex
Don't watch TV
Don't play video games
Don't surf the net
Don't eat dairy food
Don't eat chocolate
Don't drink coffee
Don't drink Tea
Don't drink Coke/Pepsi/Lemonade/Tizer etc etc
What a crock of shit.
Later, Jack the Grocer
Today has been one of the quietest I can remember - me off for a day, kids at school, DC at work. You start to relish a bit of peace and quiet when youm get a bit older and days like this are one of the best ways to switch the mind down a bit and relax. Today has been that day. Back to work tomorrow and then the final day before the big weekend. I had a look at the weather report again as today is such a nice day and I don't want to tempt fate but it is different to the one from yesterday.
There has been a report from the government, or The nannies as I prefer to call them. Apparently our kids like the sun too much and spend too long playing outside when its sunny. Jesus fucking Christ, as if we see a lot of the bloody thing anyway. My kids are stuck in day after day during the winter because of the poxy rain and grim windy conditions. When it's sunny, of course they want to go out...so do I. Apparently though we can't be trusted to take a few precautions to prevent burning, no...we're all too fucking stupid. So we get another wanky report from some overpaid stuffed shirt government scientist cum sociologist ramming more "good health" shit at us. Listen, leave us alone, we've got this far pretty much OK and by ourselves. Message to Blair and gang - Keep your bullshit studies to yourself and stop patronising me, my family, my friends - give us some credit and keep your pseudo-socialist , bleeding heart, nanny state noses out of our lives. It's enough to make me reach for the ciggies.....
Don't smoke
Don't drink
Don't drive
Don't sunbathe
Don't eat burgers
Don't use sugar
Don't eat sweets
Don't have sex
Don't watch TV
Don't play video games
Don't surf the net
Don't eat dairy food
Don't eat chocolate
Don't drink coffee
Don't drink Tea
Don't drink Coke/Pepsi/Lemonade/Tizer etc etc
What a crock of shit.
Later, Jack the Grocer
Monday, 29 March 2004
Comments?
Thanks to crox you can now comment on my ramblings and musings from the comments links now showing on the site. I have also added some links to other sites. More will follow. Thanks again to Croxy who has been a real star in helping me jazz things up just a little.
Later, Jack the Grocer
Thanks to crox you can now comment on my ramblings and musings from the comments links now showing on the site. I have also added some links to other sites. More will follow. Thanks again to Croxy who has been a real star in helping me jazz things up just a little.
Later, Jack the Grocer
Contact...
Another contact from the blog world has arrived at my mailbox (grocerjak@lycos.co.uk). Thanks to crox for the kind comments. Check his site out here
www.crox.blogspot.com
Frankly I would rather be playing golf. I think we have too much info these days. I was really looking forward to my golf weekend. I then did the worst possible thing.....checked the weekend weather forecast for DevWall - and guess what....yep rain, rain by the shitload, buckets of bloody rain, and now I have the vision of me standing on a golf course swigging the last drop of single malt from a hip flask in a vain attempt to lift my sagging spirits, cold, wet, miserable and pissed off because I CAN'T play good golf in the rain. I wear glasses, and when it rains they have to come off (no windscreen wipers!) and that means the small white sphere I am attempting to hit off of a much larger sphere becomes a blur and if I hit it well, after 20 yards I can't see it. I'd vote for any government that spent some money on weather control technologies. Hopefully, one day I'll be given early retirement and can stop working at 50 something (yeah I can dream), and when that happens, the house is sold and DC and me can move to the South of France, or Italy....anywhere the weather is better. People say I'd miss the UK weather.....bollocks will I!
We are a party of four going to DevWall. My friend, The King is sharing my room. One other guy I do not know, he is a friend of Bob6 and Bob6 is the friend of mine from London. I may have said this before but he is called Bob6 because of his rather strange habit of hitting 8 or 9 shots on certain holes and then saying "it was a 6" or "lets call it a 6". The thing is I never say anything about this. Last year we had a game near where he lives in Iver. On the 11th hole he had a 3 shot lead. He then got an 11, yep thats 11. 7 to the green then 4 putts. I,like every golfer, know what this is like and the only person to beat up is yourself. You swallow your pride, you look at your mate and you say "11, a fucking 11, thats my poxy game over". Then you birdie the next....it's that kind of game. But Bob6 said "That was an 8"...hmm I thought ...well at least he didn't try and claim the 6 so it's an improvement. I wrote down 8 because I'm that much in need of golfing friends. We finished the game - he won by a single stroke, and a single point, although the matchplay was even. I don't mind defeat, after all I am playing myself more than him. But then Bob6 went on to deliver me a critique of where I go wrong in my game. Cheeky bastard - I know where I go wrong...I tell the truth about my scores! Perhaps thats my problem and why I'm off 24.
Another thing about Bob6 is ...well he's a bit like Benny Hill. Not in looks or anything, but he is what I define as a typical Sun reader. Now this might piss a few people off, but the Sun is a shit rag and appeals to the worst attributes in people. Bob6 gets it to see the Page 3 girls tits. Now,I like Tits like any other heterosexual bloke (I don't like Colin Montgomeries though) but I kind of got over buying the Sun for the tits when I was 18. Bob6 has never moved on. Golf is also a nightmare for Bob6 because of his unceasing capability to live in the world of double-entendres. You see, he thinks its funny to constantly mention and snigger at "hold it further down the shaft", or the green is "the other side of the mound". Don't mention the"head" of the club, or the endless hours of hilarity he gets from "balls" and "holes" and "lipping out". This is why The King is coming along as I need to have a point of sanity and reason to refer back to. Oh, and then he will regale the poor bar staff with piss poor chat up lines (didn't we go to the same school? errr no, she lives in Cornwall and is 15 years younger than you!)or a hole by hole account of his game - yep just what the bar staff want, another golfer lying about his game, because they've never heard this stuff before.
Why am I going then? He is my friend and has been there during rough times. I don't reject friends because they politically aren't like me, or they are racist, gay or whatever. My criteria for friendship goes much deeper than that. Bob6's wife is a close friend to myself and DC and they're off to Spain for the weekend (yep, no fucking rain there I would think). Last year they went to Italy and I went to Cornwall with Bob6 where I played the best golf of my life and he embarrassed me at every moment. I did kind of vow not to do it again to DC, but when The King offered to back me up I decided to have another go. As the man says, I'd rather be playing golf...
Later, Jack the Grocer
Another contact from the blog world has arrived at my mailbox (grocerjak@lycos.co.uk). Thanks to crox for the kind comments. Check his site out here
www.crox.blogspot.com
Frankly I would rather be playing golf. I think we have too much info these days. I was really looking forward to my golf weekend. I then did the worst possible thing.....checked the weekend weather forecast for DevWall - and guess what....yep rain, rain by the shitload, buckets of bloody rain, and now I have the vision of me standing on a golf course swigging the last drop of single malt from a hip flask in a vain attempt to lift my sagging spirits, cold, wet, miserable and pissed off because I CAN'T play good golf in the rain. I wear glasses, and when it rains they have to come off (no windscreen wipers!) and that means the small white sphere I am attempting to hit off of a much larger sphere becomes a blur and if I hit it well, after 20 yards I can't see it. I'd vote for any government that spent some money on weather control technologies. Hopefully, one day I'll be given early retirement and can stop working at 50 something (yeah I can dream), and when that happens, the house is sold and DC and me can move to the South of France, or Italy....anywhere the weather is better. People say I'd miss the UK weather.....bollocks will I!
We are a party of four going to DevWall. My friend, The King is sharing my room. One other guy I do not know, he is a friend of Bob6 and Bob6 is the friend of mine from London. I may have said this before but he is called Bob6 because of his rather strange habit of hitting 8 or 9 shots on certain holes and then saying "it was a 6" or "lets call it a 6". The thing is I never say anything about this. Last year we had a game near where he lives in Iver. On the 11th hole he had a 3 shot lead. He then got an 11, yep thats 11. 7 to the green then 4 putts. I,like every golfer, know what this is like and the only person to beat up is yourself. You swallow your pride, you look at your mate and you say "11, a fucking 11, thats my poxy game over". Then you birdie the next....it's that kind of game. But Bob6 said "That was an 8"...hmm I thought ...well at least he didn't try and claim the 6 so it's an improvement. I wrote down 8 because I'm that much in need of golfing friends. We finished the game - he won by a single stroke, and a single point, although the matchplay was even. I don't mind defeat, after all I am playing myself more than him. But then Bob6 went on to deliver me a critique of where I go wrong in my game. Cheeky bastard - I know where I go wrong...I tell the truth about my scores! Perhaps thats my problem and why I'm off 24.
Another thing about Bob6 is ...well he's a bit like Benny Hill. Not in looks or anything, but he is what I define as a typical Sun reader. Now this might piss a few people off, but the Sun is a shit rag and appeals to the worst attributes in people. Bob6 gets it to see the Page 3 girls tits. Now,I like Tits like any other heterosexual bloke (I don't like Colin Montgomeries though) but I kind of got over buying the Sun for the tits when I was 18. Bob6 has never moved on. Golf is also a nightmare for Bob6 because of his unceasing capability to live in the world of double-entendres. You see, he thinks its funny to constantly mention and snigger at "hold it further down the shaft", or the green is "the other side of the mound". Don't mention the"head" of the club, or the endless hours of hilarity he gets from "balls" and "holes" and "lipping out". This is why The King is coming along as I need to have a point of sanity and reason to refer back to. Oh, and then he will regale the poor bar staff with piss poor chat up lines (didn't we go to the same school? errr no, she lives in Cornwall and is 15 years younger than you!)or a hole by hole account of his game - yep just what the bar staff want, another golfer lying about his game, because they've never heard this stuff before.
Why am I going then? He is my friend and has been there during rough times. I don't reject friends because they politically aren't like me, or they are racist, gay or whatever. My criteria for friendship goes much deeper than that. Bob6's wife is a close friend to myself and DC and they're off to Spain for the weekend (yep, no fucking rain there I would think). Last year they went to Italy and I went to Cornwall with Bob6 where I played the best golf of my life and he embarrassed me at every moment. I did kind of vow not to do it again to DC, but when The King offered to back me up I decided to have another go. As the man says, I'd rather be playing golf...
Later, Jack the Grocer
So that was the weekend was it....?
Played golf on Saturday, and went round in 96 - that's good for me. My main golf mate - The King went round in 94. Beat me on the last fucking hole again! Why can't I play like that on the Corporate days? The pub was good again, it gets better each week. I am away this weekend in Devon or Cornwall (depends on the map as to where the place is - lets just agree that it is in DevWall). One of my friends - Mr Chelsea - was in fine argumentative form on Friday. His wife, Mrs Chelsea sometimes looks on us both a little bemused, because we do actually support the same team, but we disagree on just about everything to do with the club. I think Ranieri should go because I don't think he is the man for the future, Mr Chelsea thinks he's the best thing since.......well Luca Vialli I guess, although for those who don't know, he is also the only thing since Luca Vialli! Poor Mrs Chelsea seems to be stuck in this role of referee between us, I'm sure she doesn't mind but like I say I just get this impression that she'd like to bang our heads together like a couple of naughty schoolboys. Hmmm....as Mr Chelsea is a member of the GOGB it might just be possible that we are just fulfilling our roles as miserable old sods (MOS) - an organization that I might just form, which is open to both genders. There are honorary members of the GOGB who are women, but "honorary" is the best they can achieve, unless they undergo an operation to add some vital bits.
We beat Wolves on Saturday - good, Wolves are one of the most arrogant of clubs. They have been harping on about being " a big club" for 20 odd years, whilst languishing in the lower divisions. Well, they have certainly discovered what it's like being at the top table this year, and when they are inevitably relegated perhaps the fans can spend a year learning some humility in preparation for any future promotions. Yes, I know humility is sounding a bit rich from a Chelsea fan, but I've been with them for 30 years, through mainly thin, sometimes thinner, with just a soupcon of good times. Maybe it's time we did shout our Chelsea flash boy mouth off, after all Glory Hunters and Gooners have been doing it long enough.
The Grand Master and Raptor stayed and went. They had a good time, and I was on sparkling form on Saturday night, even if I do say so myself. LittleSis also joined us and I can genuinely say it was a very good and genial time. Thanks to the black stuff, and some chilled Cotes du Rhone I passed out, contented and smiling, after the footie :-)
The week before a break is always painfully long and this one is no exception. I will use the break to play golf, and switch my mind off. Truly to relax.
Later, Jack the Grocer
Played golf on Saturday, and went round in 96 - that's good for me. My main golf mate - The King went round in 94. Beat me on the last fucking hole again! Why can't I play like that on the Corporate days? The pub was good again, it gets better each week. I am away this weekend in Devon or Cornwall (depends on the map as to where the place is - lets just agree that it is in DevWall). One of my friends - Mr Chelsea - was in fine argumentative form on Friday. His wife, Mrs Chelsea sometimes looks on us both a little bemused, because we do actually support the same team, but we disagree on just about everything to do with the club. I think Ranieri should go because I don't think he is the man for the future, Mr Chelsea thinks he's the best thing since.......well Luca Vialli I guess, although for those who don't know, he is also the only thing since Luca Vialli! Poor Mrs Chelsea seems to be stuck in this role of referee between us, I'm sure she doesn't mind but like I say I just get this impression that she'd like to bang our heads together like a couple of naughty schoolboys. Hmmm....as Mr Chelsea is a member of the GOGB it might just be possible that we are just fulfilling our roles as miserable old sods (MOS) - an organization that I might just form, which is open to both genders. There are honorary members of the GOGB who are women, but "honorary" is the best they can achieve, unless they undergo an operation to add some vital bits.
We beat Wolves on Saturday - good, Wolves are one of the most arrogant of clubs. They have been harping on about being " a big club" for 20 odd years, whilst languishing in the lower divisions. Well, they have certainly discovered what it's like being at the top table this year, and when they are inevitably relegated perhaps the fans can spend a year learning some humility in preparation for any future promotions. Yes, I know humility is sounding a bit rich from a Chelsea fan, but I've been with them for 30 years, through mainly thin, sometimes thinner, with just a soupcon of good times. Maybe it's time we did shout our Chelsea flash boy mouth off, after all Glory Hunters and Gooners have been doing it long enough.
The Grand Master and Raptor stayed and went. They had a good time, and I was on sparkling form on Saturday night, even if I do say so myself. LittleSis also joined us and I can genuinely say it was a very good and genial time. Thanks to the black stuff, and some chilled Cotes du Rhone I passed out, contented and smiling, after the footie :-)
The week before a break is always painfully long and this one is no exception. I will use the break to play golf, and switch my mind off. Truly to relax.
Later, Jack the Grocer
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