The Ordinary Man

And It's A Big Welcome Back To......

2011-09-13T11:21:00.000-07:00

....the Conservative sleaze monkeys!

Its been boring since 1997. Labour have had some troubles but no matter how hard they tried they couldn't match the Tories of the Mrs T and John Major era. They were hardcore.

After years of waking up to SkyNews or the tabloids revealing another Tory MP falling out of a brothel, caught with another lover (of both sexes, sometimes the same time, the same person if you catch my drift), brown paper bags full money received to ask questions in parliament, brown paper bags full of money passed to prostitutes for help with a book (yeah, right!), MP gimps in raided S&M parlours giving secret handshakes to Police on being caught..."sorry your Right Honourable MP for Whiplash East...not all cops are Masons, now get in the car"...it all went boring. Blair came in, employed some decent Rottweilers and controlled everyone with his attack dogs....except his wife!!

The job was done, the richer were unbelievably rich, the poor on their knees, industry destroyed, the yuppie invented, British pride now sold to the highest foreign bidder....and it was now time to party. But my life, was it fun. for a short while we could even match the Italians and the Japanese the the political sleaze league table. It was a time to be proud of just what an embarrassment the government was.

Some just got away with a divorce, some where cast out of the party, ridiculed and become joke figures...probably no more than when they were an MP. Some even made the ultimate sacrifice to the Conservative party, donned the stockings and suspenders, an amyl nitrate filled satsuma in the mouth, bin liner over the head and tied a looped noose cord from neck to ankles...and promptly popped his clog's. I've never found death funny...this time I did, its the proper way for a Conservative MP to end it, it seems right.

Even the PM himself got in on the act. Probably after a night of spliffs and high proof white rum at the Jamacian Embassy, he obviously donned the beer googles, gave the Jamacian ambassador a knowing elbow nudge and declared Edwina Curry "a bit of alright" or "Tory M.I.L.F.". Wobbled back home, told Norma he was going to work to phone Boris Yeltsin to tell him that he was "more pished than you", back to her flat and all those in favour said 'aye'. Brilliant...except the bit where 'not M.I.L.F at all' Curry started to brag about it, enough to give you nightmares...or throw up.

"You've been a very naughty boy"

So...it all went quite and the years passed, nothing of of note happened, but now there is light at the end of the tunnel, the first murmerings of what may be about to happen, maybe, just maybe we might be in for a winter of fun again....good ol' George Osbourne.

George Osbourne...a proper Tory MP. Go George!!

New Toy

2011-09-12T13:55:00.000-07:00

It's been two years since I've had something throbbing between my legs and I'm starting to get withdrawal symptoms...and no, I'm not referring to being kicked in the 'nads or returning from the far east with a touch of the 'Bangkok Dribble

I'm off to see Charlie Boorman at the Chetenham Literature Festival so the adventure bike juices have started flowing again. The 'Long Way Round' collectors edition DVD is back in the player. The Touratech catalogue has replaced the Argos catalogue on the coffee table (sorry Bella!). My last foray into the world of two wheel European transport was a Kawasaki ZRX1100, not the best long distance tourer but it did the job, even if my neck muscles didn't. I need a better tool for the task

BMW R1200GS Adventure...too big, too heavy, tooooo expensive on a lot of fronts, buying one being just one of them. KTM 990 Adventure...see BMW R1200GS for details....but with no dealers, well none near me anyway. Ducati Multistrada....I actually want to get to where I'm going!!!

Then at the back of the room jumping up and down trying to get noticed above its big expensive scene stealing classmates was the Suzuki DL650A XP 'V-Strom'. Not as big as its comrades but neither am I. Being only 5' 6" tall with an inside leg measurement to match my options are slimmed down somewhat but the V-Strom fits perfectly. Price...new...fully loaded with luggage, sump bash plate, hand guards, engine protector bars and from what I've heard...a standard comfy seat fitted...£6500. Bargain. Add sat nav for global domination!

Winters coming, bike sales go down, salesman get desperate...£6500...I think not. Gimme, gimme, gimme!!!

The DL650A XP 'V-Strom' on an epic journey to find the sea at Weston-Super-Mare

Estate Agents..The Job I want

2011-05-18T05:14:00.000-07:00

I'm quitting my job, I want to be an estate agent. I'm tired of stressful work day in day out, time for the quiet life. Now let me check if I could handle the life of an estate agent....

1. Go round to a clients house, promise them the world and an unrealistic price they will get for their house and all the publications your house will appear in (not forgetting to cough, cross fingers behind back, completely forget to say that it will be only for the first 3 minutes of the contract) IF they choose me. Easy, it's called 'lying through your teeth'...easy, as the 'Fosters' ad says " it's what separates us from the animals"!

2. Take crappy photographs. No problem, taken them all my life, not one framed effort of mine in my house.

3. Sit in local Solihull town centre pub for 4 weeks then phone client to ask him to drop the price as 'the market is in a downward spiral and the £250,000 they had valued the house at is now slightly over value. Would they reconsider dropping it to £99,000. Obviously forgetting to tell them that it is getting periously close to the end of the financial year and the sale contributes to the annual bonus and a possible new car (Audi TT of course) with which to impress female office staff (they all have the previous years Audi TT's).

4. Bingo, house sold, £30,000, it's the market at the moment and be pleased you got that. "Now do you mind phoning around the legal departments, solicitors and even the new owner as we have lots to do and won't keep you informed...nudge, nudge, wink, wink, the new Audi TT worked and shipping myself and Chantelle the new 'liaison manager' of to0 Paris for the weekend, it's a French propery convention honest, don't tell the wife!".

5. "Have you got a completion date yet, no, why not, OK...let us know when you have and we will send someone to take the 'SOLD' sign down....in the next couple of months, any problems you know where to find us...The Masons Arms. Thanks for your business, please use us again!"

Easy life. Chantelle is a fictional name by the way used to protect someones privacy...her real name's Fiona.

Estate agents hard at work yesterday !

Non Jobs.

2011-05-17T05:07:00.000-07:00

There's a little (well very big actually) at work that contains a strange collection of people, nobodies actually sure what they do. Their day to day activity seem to involve them going around congratualting each other on doing a fine job, whatever that is, and slapping each other on the back. They even get the chance of going around the world to hold 'important' seminars to find out how their colleagues in China, Canada, USA and Germany also slap each other on the back and congratulate each other on a hard days..er..work!
I've been told their official title is the 'Site Improvements Department. These people famously get more active when the threat of redundancy comes to the fore. They will sit around for months discussing back-slapping before the threat of 'streamlining' the company comes out in a works meeting. Low and behold there is a sudden urgency to move this department there, and that one here, redesign something that works perfectly well and ruin it and production for a month so that more lino can be put down on the floor because this years floor colour is blue.
At a meeting once after one of the 'Site Improvement Department' event, someone brought up that it would of been more of a money saving to offer the entire 'WID' redundancy than would be benefitted from the 'event'. If looks could kill!!!!...the the said minion followed up his statement with "well maybe we should let the accountants decide". Round of applause from 99% of those attending and the 'WID' left the room inn protest. The improvements failed to improve production (again) and they are still employed.
You know these people, they now exist in every workplace now. The C.B.I. called them the "parasites of industry". Never a truer word spoken.

Big Birds and the Boogeyman.

2011-05-16T13:57:00.000-07:00

Driving along the Coventry Road near Birmingham airport you know when something different is about to land as the cars in front start swerving all over the road into each others lanes, craning necks to get a better look at whats about to land...cue rear end crashes, cue higher premiums for us all next year!
Sure enough the A45 demolition derby almost came to fruition yesterday as the days impressive visitor was the RAF's C17 Globemaster and it's sad cargo. I already new what was coming as it was possible to see a holding area of to the side of the runway where a parking lot of ambulances had parked up waiting to take the C17's cargo off to the Queen Elizabeth hospital and, hopefully, the road to recovery and rehabilitation.
This huge leviathan of an aircraft in its military grey colour scheme darkens the sky as it goes over the top of my car, if your saw 'Independence Day'...same thing. The plane spotters were out in force, a sight indeed for them, but hope they left it's cargo unphotographed, only the 'severe' come back in the Globemaster. I wish them well.

CI7 Globemaster...as mentioned on accident insurance claims forms on the A45 yesterday

Derek Boogaard, Aged 28, New York Rangers. R.I.P.

Derek Boogaard, 'The Boogeyman', NHL ice hockey player for the New York Rangers. Found dead in his apartment on Friday 13th...unlucky for him it seems unfortunately. Standing 6' 7" minus his skates, his job was not to score goals but look after the players that did...and he did it brilliantly. As with most pugilists of immense size what he was on the ice was nothing like the gentle giant he was known for off the ice, his work for the community was legendary. The outpouring of emotion in Minnesota where he played for the 'Wild' and in New York where he had joined the legendary Rangers last season and the ice hockey world in general paid testament to that. The cause of death is not known but his family have already given permission to donate his brain for medical research into the effects of fighting for a living in professional ice hockey. Boxers wear gloves, these guys don't. So long big man.

The Boogeyman (left)...another day at the office

Filling Time

2010-10-29T02:10:00.001-07:00

Busy weekend coming up again. Spending lots of time trying to fill my time, luckily things just seem to fall into place naturally.

Friday. Route 44 Rock Club. It's on, it's off, now as from a few minutes ago it's back on again. Pure Instinct supported by X-Changed. Only know the support band and its drummer so should be an interesting night, hey, there's a bus every 20 minutes if it isn't.

Saturday. A day for catching up with friends I haven't seen for ages, you suddenly realise when certain situations arise how people can steer you away from friendships without you even knowing it's happening, to protect themselves from someone who is brutally honest coming out with something said person may not want to here it seems to me.
Saturday afternoon/night, all off to the Matlock Bath illuminations, my friend Diane acting as our tour guide. Matlock Bath to me in the past has been viewed mostly out the aperture in a full face crash helmet, park up, talk motorcycle BS and leave, avoiding fleets of cops with speed cameras on the way. If you love bikes, head here on a sunny summers afternoon (if we ever have one again), you'll love it. The town is taken over by them, Mad Max (1) style.
Do I do a Top Gear challenge and try to make it to Matlock in a knackered Mondeo, or get the train...which if British Rail are anything to go by, might not make it either...decisions, decisions.

Sunday. Ice hockey. The big match. A top of the table clash which the visiting team MUST win. That means fireworks on the ice, which means it will blood and guts (literally) all the way. Come on you Barons.

Have a great weekend. Be nice.

Polishing the Sledge

2010-10-22T05:17:00.000-07:00

The forecasters say we may have snow flurries over the weekend, the sledge is at the ready but after Saturday nights party will I be in any fit state to hurl myself down massive hills, probably not, probably be in no fit state to get to the hills in the first place. I'll watch Ski Sunday instead...if it's on yet.
The ZZ Top kits altogether (many thanks to the Costume Department in Hall Green) and I'm sure the pictures will be on certain facebook sites by lunch time on Sunday, long before my reddened eyes and sore head appear from beneath the duvet wherever the duvet cover may be. To say I'm looking forward to it is a bit of an understatement. I love my mates, whenever I need them badly they always come up trumps.

So Wayne Rooney's signed a new five year contract after saying very publicly he wanted to leave the club, £200,000 a week!!!! We'll a least it will keep Colleen in better quality shoes and his good self better quality 55 year old PVC clad Grannies...shudder!!!

Have a brilliant weekend..see you on the flip side.

Tonight Matthew We're going to be.....

2010-10-20T23:45:00.000-07:00

Theres a big Halloween party that I've been invited to this weekend, a week early but the hosts have tied it in with their Daughters birthday and the fact that they are away on holiday next weekend. The theme is Halloween, obviously, and my good friend Jonah and I have decided to do something as a pair. He originally suggested dressing up as KKK klansmen, suggesting to me that for those not in the know we would just be ghosts, to those in the know we really would be the scariest people out that night, but the idea fell down as neither of us wanted to carry the burning cross.

The news from the party hosts was that the party has now been thrown open to just fancy dress as everyone was going seemed to be turning up as either a witch or one of the ghost pirates from 'Pirates Of The Theme Park Ride Money Making Franchise' films. This gave us another option.
Jonah is smallish, roundish and with a full blown ZZ TOP beard, the next option was easy...ZZ Top's Dusty Hill and Billy Gibbons. Jonah is a natural Dusty Hill.
The Billy Gibbons bit is mine. I'm smallish, slimish and apart from todays 3 days worth of stubble, clean shaven. So the search is on for my 'Stars In Your...Squint And I May Look A Bit Like Them...Eyes' make over kit.
A quick look through google images and the list is made, plus some stuff for Jonah. Blow-up guitars, 2 off..check, Cowboy hats, 2 off...check, Rayban Wayfarers (copies...Cheap Sunglasses...one there for the ZZ Top fans out there!), jeans, black jacket, white shirt, 1 off each..check (Jonahs got these). Now for the beard...3 hours on the phone finally procured me a 14" long beard. Job done, just need a crate of beer and a bottle of Jack Daniels to complete the image.

So the subject matter is not quite halloween I grant you but I assure you that If ZZ Top knocked on a door and a five year old answered and they did trick or treat thing it would scare the living day lights out of them and would probably get them arrested...expect for Frank Beard (the beardless drummer) who would just confuse them with his eighties perm.

Happy Halloween...ten days early.

Jonah and I posing for the Halloween party photo album...or...Billy Gibbons, Dusty Hill and a bloke with a really scary perm

Welsh Scousers

2010-10-20T07:21:00.001-07:00

A temperamental breed if ever there was one. But that's what we encountered on a trip to Flintshire at the weekend. Barons vs Flintshire Freeze, top of the table clash, storming the valleys looking for points...well not exactly...turn left at Birkenhead, 250 metres across the border and there you are. Disappointing really but Wales is Wales and that's that.

It also reminded me of my time spent in Canada, signposts in two different languages, which struck me as strange as there as much need for Welsh signs in Flintshire as there would be for Welsh roadsigns in outer Mongolia...nobody there was Welsh, or certainly didn't sound like it. I would call the accent Scouse.

The Flintshire Freezes programme had the Welsh national anthem words in Welsh so we could all sing along. Well we didn't and neither did the home fans, well one man I think was clearing his throat but he could of been having a go at the anthem...who knows!!

The pub we used for a couple of hours before the game was full of red and blue shirts, Liverpool and Everton were going head to head that afternoon. Not a Welsh rugby shirt, footie shirt or dragon tattoo in sight, it seems that patriotism only happens when you a certain amount of miles inland.

Oh yeah, we won 4-11, the Dragons breath was extinguished, we're top of the table, going up. Bring it on!

The Welsh flag and it's dragon...not very visable in Flintshire, it should be a liver bird

(a little bit of) Responsibility.

2010-09-23T05:08:00.001-07:00

Not a word I like to use too much, tends to get in the way of having fun. But the situation has arisen were I must be responsible and not muck about...a board meeting.

My local ice hockey team has it's first committee meeting of the season tomorrow and I seemed to be getting roped into more and more, show some enthusiasm for a task and everything seems to come my way. Maybe I'm doing things slightly different and it's going down well, I'm not sure. But I hate infighting, bickering and arguing, sometimes a bad thing as I tend to hold things in rather than say my piece and cause a argument but there you go. But that is what seems to have gone on for years at this club, through all levels, the pee wees ( tiny kids), juniors right up to the senior team. That seems to have stopped, a couple of individuals have left and thing seem to be settled. The ship jumpers weren't bad people, just didn't get on with others, shame.

So tomorrow night, pad in hand, idea's already scribbled down I shall prepare to say my piece, forward suggestions, drink coffee and right the world (the local ice hockey one anyway). All very sensible...then Saturday...all day on the lash, find a hotel because my house does not redecorating yet, and party 'till I drop. Back to normal.

Video of the day. Found this on one of my favourite surf websites...stunning.

http://www.orcasurf.co.uk/carve/news/news-dark-side-of-the-lens.html

Picture of the day. My favourite women's surfer of all time...Rochelle Ballard.

Want to learn yoga...no better place to start..

http://www.rochelleballard.com/

Things I've Learned This Weekend

2010-09-20T05:21:00.000-07:00

Whole Lotta DC are one of the best tribute bands I've seen. The real thing won't tour again anytime soon, if ever, so go see these. Disappointment won't be on the agenda.

Hull. Nice bridge, decent beer....er...thats it really.

Coach travel. OK on the way there, I think I prefer having my toenails removed rather than travel back in the early hours, tired, emotional and just tired. Roll on the Dr. Who time travel era.

Birmingham City. Actually I've learned nothing new about them, just that I keep not expecting them to let me down. But they always do.

The Pope. Not enough said about your cover-up of child abuse your holiness. Take that one to your grave, I'm sure your in fear of meeting your maker a lot more than some of us, you can explain everything to him.

Old Ladies. Motorway was full of them this weekend, I suppose all going to the man in white. There should be classes to teach the over 70's to use chip and pin cards. Might make getting served in motorway service stations a little quicker

Gripe over, let the week begin.

Swear Words

2010-09-17T02:05:00.000-07:00

...thats all I seem to be muttering today. Loads of things to do (being added to all the time) and less time to do it.
Things to do....No. 1 sue Aldi. They advertise a st of bike lights for weeks and when the day comes to put them on sale they are not in the shops and therefore letting my young 'un down saying that they will be on her bike that afternoon...emotional stress...sue them for £1,000,000.
Some of the people I work with. Deadlines to meet and everyones standing around talking about the pope. Why! If he had meant that much to them they would of been in Glasgow or have tickets for Coventry in their pockets, neither is the case so get on with your work. gggrrrrrr.
The hockey website doesn't work and I have not control of it to fix it. the guy who has got it is going through the mill and losing his job, thereby he has bigger thing on his mind than the website..but I hate his employers for putting stress on him that in turn is stressing me out. B*s***ds.
Why does my caps lock never work and i end up having to do sentences again because they are in capitals..even when I pressed it...aaaaaHHHHHHH.
My tumble dryers broke and my clothes I need for tonight are not going to be dry...S%%T!

Whys this post just published when I'm half way through it and taken ages to reload so I can finish it...sound of hair being torn out (however that sounds)

I need a beer (or six. Roll on Whole Lott DC tonight, roll on an away game with the hockey on Sunday. I need a break. A glass of water and paracetamol sitting ready for Monday morning.

Have a good weekend

Weekend Prep...On A Tuesday!!

2010-09-13T23:58:00.000-07:00

Its Tuesday and already I'm trying to plan my weekend. It's not natural for me, my life consists of doing things just two hours after I've thought of doing them. Cosmic ordering (copyright D. Parkin) does not exist.

So, Friday. I've got to get to work early (6.00am), finish late (5.00pm, normally 3.30pm), home, tea...it's Friday, it's the chip shop. Then off to the Route 44 Rock venue in Acocks Green, Birmingham for the rather excellent AC/DC tribute band Whole Lotta DC. This means copious amounts of alcohol with friend trying desperately to hold conversations over a deafening PA system. It's the best way to learn sign language...especially "I think you'll find it's not my round, it's yours", done with two fingers pointed vertical and one finger pointed in your direction.

Early Saturday morning back to work at 6.00am, on a mountain bike, not car due to the night before, until 12.00pm, then home. A quick run around the shower and then off to a Sheldon Lions charity fundraiser which will take us nicely to a 'just the one pint' night out with friends...until the early hours of Sunday.

Sunday. Road trip with the ice hockey to Hull. Hull...ummm, party town, not so sure, so It'll be a bit of lunch in the Hobs Meadow pub (and a beer...or two), a case of beer and a bottle of JD on the coach (plus a packet of crisps and a sarnie from Tescos) making sure at least one coach load of people up there are having a good time even before we reach our destination. From there on in..who knows. Just might book Monday morning as a holiday at work...uummmm, good idea me thinks.

Angus Young...well Whole Lotta DC's version anyway...but still impressive

Jack Daniels and Business

2010-09-07T23:54:00.000-07:00

"Don't do deals when you drink"...a good piece of advice I was given many many years ago and totally ignored last Sunday afternoon.

I've followed my local ice hockey team for many years, well thirty of them, through think and thin (mostly thin), good and bad (mostly bad) and had an absolute ball while doing it. Its a great sport mixed with a a good social background...or as my better half likes to put it "everytime you go to a game you come back plastered!"...good comment, well made.
The team has been in the top flight of hockey, gone bust, rebuilt itself, collapsed again, rebuilt itself once more, been taken over then been sent to Coventry, literally...all you ex-supporters out there who now wear Blaze colours..TRAITORS!!!

I've always enjoyed, lets say, the social aspect of the game. I've been away on double-header game weekends in Scotland and never seen a puck on the ice, just spent the time with a select number of friends making the most of hostelries in Fife, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Ayr and Dundee. The big end to the season was the Wembley play-offs...spent in the Greyhound just left of Wembley Way!!
In recent times though I have been spending less time in the bar and more time watching the games and become a bit involved in the game itself while still organising get together's for old friends that used to go to the games, some still do. So while on the players/supporters coach on Sunday while travelling to Sheffield to take on the Senators and a small group of us which were sat together which happened to include the new General Manager started banding ideas around along with dubious amounts of alcohol on my part. Before long I was inducted into a sub committee and low and behold given trust of the website after the previous General Manager/website owner-updater had an argument with the clubs chairman and left...2 weeks or so before the start of the season. Nice. But as the beer/JD was taking a nice calming effect I agreed. The task ahead hit me hard the next morning, could be a bit of a headache if things weren't handed over smoothly but that could of been due to a raging hangover. Paracetamol got rid one of them

So there we are, possibly not so much time on here and a lot more time fiddling with statistics and phoning/e-mailing around trying desperately to make the website a one-stop source of information. Here's hoping. Go Barons.

P.S. The ladders worked

So Whats Been Happening

2010-09-03T05:21:00.001-07:00

William Hague's wife is standing by him over the allegations of an 'improper' relationship with his 'special advisor'. Standing by him, maybe, sleeping in the spare room, most certainly. Remember Elton John was married once if you catch my drift, nudge, nudge, wink, wink, say no more.(probably..if there are any lawyers out there)...

The Pakistan cricketers who are under suspicion of corruption had to go to the ICC headquarters in London to face the music. Reporters jostled them as they entered the building. Apparently it was 20/1 that one of them would trip on the third step into the building.

My guttering needs cleaning out, I'm borrowing a huge set of extendable ladders to do the job and I'm not to keen on heights unless I've got the aisle carpet of a 150 plus seater jet under my feet...cold sweat time

Downloading photos from my phone with bluetooth...aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh...holiday snaps on here around Christmas....2012!

Have a good weekend...if there's no post on Monday, the ladders weren't very good.

France and the French Part Deux

2010-09-01T05:02:00.001-07:00

So what did I like about our cousins and their country over the channel...most of it and them actually. I came back with a feeling that as a country we have got it all wrong. Here's just a couple of the thing that stood out.

The roads.

Basically travelling around France. A joy. Superb roads, properly surfaced, no botch jobs with filled holes. No congestion (the only bit of French road that people think of I'm sure is the Paris peripherique and the Arc de Triomphe). On a French bank holiday weekend everything ran smoothly, no queues at the ports and on the motorways, compared to arriving back and being stuck on the M25 for 3 hours while London went to Legoland...and we think we can host the Olympics...what a joke!
Service areas that could cope with crowds, you could always get a seat, toilets that worked. My favourite on the motorways (A roads) were the rest areas spaced every 20km. Wooded areas off the motorway that had toilet facilities, benches in the woods for picnics, camping areas and electric hook-ups for motor homes and caravans so you could pitch up if you suddenly decided you were tired and carry on directly the next morning. Brilliant. On our return journey the cool box was packed and we stopped for twice for a proper break, not a rushed cup of coffee and crap overpriced sandwich.

The French Kids

Every young person that I passed in the village or any of the other surrounding villages always smiled and said "Bonjour" when you passed. Not one flicked up his hoody as they passed and they could all string a sentence together and not one of them asked me outside the shop/bar if I would go in and get cigarettes for them. None of them had a can of strong cider/beer in his/her hand or used an expletive as a form of expression for every other word they spoke...amazing...the real meaning of 'respect' actually works here.

Food/Drink.

It's France for christsakes..the foods excellent..end of. Rubbish restaurants don't survive for long. I actually didn't see one McDonald's, even in La Rochelle. Social drinking, not drinking till you drop, fight and throw up. 2 hours lunch breaks, everyone looking chilled returning to work.

....ahh I'm bored. Just get your ferry tickets (£28 pound either way!!) and go. Forget Paris it isn't what it was anyway, just head downwards. You won't regret a thing. Head for real France, avoid the British enclaves that are here and there. The French find it really funny that the Brits find security in each other and have to travel around in little mobs or take over towns by all moving together...actually they find it anti-social and disrespectful. You'll learn more form Gaston from La calliere than Fred from Croydon.

Vive la France. I'm going back as soon as I can. It's warm in the Vendee at Christmas..that will do.

France and the French. A Reassessment Part 1.

2010-08-31T05:05:00.000-07:00

I've given France and the French people a bit of stick in the past but having spent two wonderful weeks in their company it's time for a new view on both country and people. I've travelled there a number of times, be it on a motorbike or to watch rock concerts but all of the time to party, wander around not really taking in the culture and people. Well this time I could and I have to report I have been wrong...oh so wrong.

The fact that I now class France as the most enjoyable place I have ever been is due mostly to the wonderful people of the Small village La Calliere, an hours drive in-land from La Rochelle and it's village folk and in particular my neighbour for just over two weeks...Gaston Coupois.
Gaston...87 year old, 6' 4" ex-French policeman, distiller of the most lethal schnapps, the best sherry known to man or woman.
My friend who's house we borrowed said I'd know when we've been accepted as he would take us not his cellar to see his wines and spirits...and we would come out only when we had sampled everything. So at the end of day one while in his cellar and feeling decidedly worse for wear after sipping away at 60% plus proof peach, pear and plum schnapps I couldn't help notice a few other items lying around the cellar. A Bazooka anti tank missile from WW2...WITH MISSILE!!! An American carbine rifle...LOADED and loads of live ammunition. When I drunkenly pointed a wobbley finger at them, Gaston just shrugged his shoulders....Tank busting missiles and super strong alcohol...the mind was a bit confused as to why this gorgeous little village was still standing.
After having a nap it was time to try and get my bearings. La Calliere...the word 'sleepy' doesn't really come close. One 'Bar Tabac', one butchers, one bakers, one restaurant come bar...that's it! It became clear very early on that the social aspect of a village like this goes on in the house and so it proved. Either while sitting in the garden taking in rays, or fast asleep in doors at night it you would get a pat on the arm, open your eyes and a completely strange but friendly face would be smiling and talking way at you in French with something for you in their arms, fruit, a pie, bread anything. "Don't lock you door until you go to bed" my friend said before he left us "people like access to to everyone here" He wasn't wrong.

More soon, so much to say.

TTFN...R'N'R Time

2010-08-11T05:04:00.000-07:00

Les valises sont prêtes, l'iPod est plein à ras bord, le matériel de lecture a été acheté. Il est tombé à Dover demain, puis sur le ferry à Calais, le vendredi et un lecteur de 450/500 à ma maison d'amis. Le temps est très chaud sur la côte atlantique sud en ce moment tant de choses sont au beau fixe. Donc tout va bien je serai de retour ici de rapports en quelques semaines avec des contes de la gloire de mes voyages à travers la France, sinon, je vais vous voir sur les nouvelles de la BBC. Nous avons laissé l'adolescent en charge de la maison que nous sommes certains qu'il y aura pas de parties, à tous alors que nous sommes loin, et elle sera propre et bien rangé tous les jours sans faute à l'adolescence ne. Je suis sûr que la maison sera encore debout quand nous serons de retour. Sinon je suis sûr que nous allons lire à ce sujet sur Facebook avant de passer un coup de téléphone nous en parler. Je pense que nous avons tous été là, une fois

Thank god for Google Translate but I should be fluent enough in French to hold political converstions by the time I get back, OK possibly not. I suddenly wish I had got on better with my French teacher at school. Mr. Redshaw if your out there, I apologise, I should of listened instead of messing about, you were right and I was wrong, I will need French someday....someday from Friday this week...sorry...really sorry...really really sorry.

Happy holidays

Thank You Martin O'Neill

2010-08-10T02:07:00.001-07:00

Bye bye Martin

Thank you Martin O'Neill. Just when I was having a bad day, things not going my way, feeling down, when my spirits really needed lifting, you came too my rescue. From a smile free day to tears of joy and laughter in one 'breaking news' flash across the bottom of Sky News 'Martin O'Neill walks out on Aston Villa'. The world is a nice place again. I left my mountain bike at home and skipped to work. Thank you Martin. I wish all the best in the future. The other side of Birmingham is a much nicer place if you are ever in need of a job.

The good ship Aston Villa begins it's decent to the bottom of the premier league...and nobody cares...at least on one side of Birmingham.

Road Of Bones...Birmingham

2010-08-08T23:52:00.000-07:00

Dave T. with whom I work has recently passed his motorcycle test. He does not do things by half. A day after his test a brand new Triumph Bonneville is in the works motorcycle park. After 3 months, bored it is replaced by the top of the range Triumph Rocket 2.3 litre monster of a bike was in it's place. It went on a few trips, the tales of the day trip to Stratford-Upon-Avon are legendary, 20 miles there and back..wooooo. Big bike, all the gear, no miles on the clock. But he has recently decided, now that his wife has got the bike bug as well (only in the summer when it's dry and warm), that it was time to venture further afield. Bye bye Triumph Rocket.

He asked me what did I think was the best bike to tour on, "the worlds your oyster" I replied, "there are that many bikes that do the job, I even toured round Europe on mine even though the small petrol tank was a bit of a pain (I had to fill up every 100/115 miles). But for inspiration on motorcycle travel I lent him my 'Long Way Round' DVD, Ewan McGregor and Charley Boormans 20,000 mile epic round the world trip on 2 BMW's, an awesome, boys own adventure.

Ewan McGregor, Charley Boorman and 2 BMW GS1150 Adventures....and how they should look after being ridden as they were meant to be.

The BMW salesman probably couldn't believe his luck. Sold. One brand new BMW R1200GS and as much of the accessories catalogue as is possible to fit on it, heated grips, top of the range sat nav (world coverage, not just Europe), luggage, touring tyres...the works...next stop...the Road Of Bones, far east Russia.

Dave has run the bike in, it's first service done, so my last words on Saturday after he told me he was packed and ready to go for the weekend were

"so where you going, set off tonight and Europe's all yours?"....
"Broadway in the Cotswold's, stop overnight in a hotel, then on Sunday we are going to see if we can find Jeremy Clarksons house in Chipping Norton".

Silence

"We used to use that route as a training run for my better half when she was just starting out riding on her 125cc Honda. There and back in an afternoon, come on Dave you've got the ultimate tool and a long weekend, don't you fancy popping into France or maybe up to Scotland". "ahhh, but that seems a bit far, and you know it's not like going in the car"....all the gear, no idea, no ambition. It makes me angry. Give me the bloody bike, I'll swap it for mine. I'll show what they build these for. No it's not like going in the car, any car on the road today is probably less reliable than one of these things. You can get you entire wardrobe in to luggage system...where's the problem?

I knew someone around ten years ago that after finishing his last shift at the Land Rover plant for the summer break, packed a rucksack with a few clothes, his passport, waterproofs and a puncture repair kit, got on the same type of Honda CG125 that my other half owned and made his merry way to Barcelona. Stopped a day took a few photos, visited the Neu Camp stadium and the rode back. He said the journey was the holiday. Totally mind blowing to me, around Europe at 55/60mph on a tiny bike.

A Honda CG125. Awesome bike for touring Europe. Better than a BMW R1200GS for the job....or is it just the rider?

It's a waste of £14,000. yep, £14,000 when including top of the range BMW riding clothes/jackets/trousers etc thrown in. It's a waste of a bike, It's a waste of time. This bike is capable of going off road, it can take the bangs and crashes and still carry on regardless, Ewan and Charley proved it. The only time Dave's bike will be going off road is when he parks it in his garage. To me this is like having the Minogue sisters in my bed then deciding to sleep on the couch, not going to happen. Unfortunately Dave is not much different for many of today's motorcyclists, only owning one because they had spare cash, paid off the mortgage, mid-life crisis and it was hip and trendy at the time, looked good polishing it on the drive on a Sunday morning. Good for once a week ride out to the local bike night, show of the bike and the matching leathers then back in the garage for a polish. A waste and I hate them.

Bit uptight this morning...can you tell!

Dave T's bike as it came out of the showroom....and as it will be when returned after his colossal, epic 'Long Way Round (the west Midlands)' journey.

On This Day, Things To Ponder

2010-08-06T04:57:00.000-07:00

1945. the United States dropped an atomic bomb on Hiroshima, Japan, that instantly killed an estimated 66,000 people in the first use of a nuclear weapon in warfare.

2001. President George W. Bush received a memo entitled "Bin Laden Determined To Strike in U.S." as part of his daily intelligence briefing. I'm not sure that 'reading an writing' were 'W's thing.

2008. A U.S. military jury convicted Osama bin Laden's former driver, Salim Hamdan, of supporting terrorism in the first war crimes trial at Guantanamo Bay. They claimed to have caught the driving force behind Al Qaeda!!!!

1965. The album "Help!" by the Beatles was released. Took music forward.

1972 (yeah, right!). Born on this day, Geri Halliwell, (Ginger Spice), Spice Girls, vocals (probably, excellent mime artist though). Set music back.

2006, UK singer songwriter James Morrison started a two week run at No.1 on the UK album chart with his debut album 'Undiscovered.' Played at my Aunts hotel in Newquay, Cornwall, for her birthday before he was famous.

1926. Warner Brothers premiered its "Vitaphone" talking movie system in New York. 84 years later I'm off to see Toy Story 3 in 3D this weekend.

1992. Tim Berners-Lee put the first website online; it explained the World Wide Web and described how to use it. Anyone got his number for the next time I try and download stuff from itunes or youtube???

Have a great weekend...."to infinity and beyond!"

Motorcycles...why?

2010-08-04T01:52:00.000-07:00

My step-daughters boyfriend has asked me about buying a scooter to get around on, he can't afford a car yet, actually the car's the easy bit, it's the insurance, so a small scooter will do the job for now. So he asked me for my advice. He's well aware of my two wheeled history but asked how I'd started riding bikes, what training(!) I'd had, the bikes I'd owned and why. It was easy. It was a matter of milestones, events and people that made me want to ride, but not forgetting the thrill of riding. I used an explanation I had read from my favorite Dan Walsh book..."from a car you see the world, on a bike your in it". Good enough for me.

So how did motorcycles and motorcycling shape my life...well lets a take a look...

My Dads Norman motorcycle. I never saw him riding it apart from attempt to get it going a couple of time a year, trying to bump start it on the pavements up and down our road and then returning it to our shed. This is where the story starts. For a young lad a motorbike bike in the shed is a great toy. Your watching the scrambling (motocross as it's now called) on Grandstand of World of Sport on the TV on a Saturday afternoon, then its out to the shed to pretend your Vic Eastwood or John Banks (the British Travis Pastrana's of the 1960's). Watch the black and white coverage of the Grand prix or the TT races and you disappear to the shed to pretend you were blasting around the track, making Giacomo Agostini or Phil Reed look like they was standing still.

But then along came new heroes...

Evel Knievel. I remember watching him jump the fountains at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas, then getting the landing horribly wrong, still makes me wince when I watch it now on Youtube. But it was the coolest thing I'd seen since Steve McQueen tried to evade the Germans then jumped his bike itno the barbed wire in the Great Escape. Both used Triumph motorcycles by the way.

When Evel Knievel did his jump at Wembley years later he was so cool doing pitch length wheelies on his Harley. Then the jump, the noise of that Harley at full throttle sent tingles up my spine. he jumped he landed...then cocked it up again and fell off. Some things never change. But my mind blocked out the man lying on the floor in agony, just the wheelies and the noise remained.

Years later I stood transfixed outside Caesars Palace in Vegas, trying to work out which way he had jumped the fountains. One of the fountain statues had its head missing, my daughter asked if Evel Knievel had knocked it off doing his jump, I'd bored her with that Youtube video many times

Barry Sheene. Giacomo Agostini, Phil Reed, great riders, brilliant champions but when Barry Sheene came along so did the cool element. Gangley, chain smoking (cool at the time), bird pulling machine with Donald Duck on his crash helmet. This is who I wanted to be. Granada (TV channel) followed Barry to Daytona, USA, for a race and Barry being Barry his back tyre decided to explode right in front of the Granada camera's at 175mph (another moment that makes me wince on Youtube, especially when the ambulance crews try to straighten his leg). Instant hero, six weeks later someone picked his skinny body up' plonked him on his bike and he raced again, the picked him off his bike and back on his crutches. Once again I ignored the pain there in front of me on the TV screen, just the bloke in the leathers with the gorgeous blonde and the hole drilled in the front of his crash helmet so he could puff on his Marlboro. I wanted to be him, although the nearest I got was owning a Sheene replica AGV helmet...should never of got rid of it...but that's another blog entry!!
Honda C50 field bike. New riders today have training courses and the CBT test to make sure they have the sufficient skills to be able to ride on the road. We had battered Honda C50 field bikes. Take a look at the picture above and in your mind remove the leg fairings, mudguards, side panels,lights, possibly most of the exhaust and there you have it. Put this in a field with a bunch of 'hungry for speed' teenagers and there you have it...our training. First thing in the morning wheel it down to the fields behind the canal (now a housing estate), send someone off with an old petrol can for fuel and for day after day, night after night, week after week, no helmets, no protection, we'd race this around our dirt track course until we were motocross (or scrambling!) gods...or until the bike blew up...usually the later. It was the start of my serious motorcycling.

Fantic Cabellero 50cc. My first road legal bike, years of saving and with some help from my Mum and Dad with paying for some gear (helmet, gloves). 16 years old and with my own wheels. Possibly the most excited I've been in my life. Schools allowed you to ride you 'mopeds' to school. That first day of riding past everyone down Shakespeare drive on the way to Light Hall School was one of the biggest buzzes of my life. Parked it up in the car park and it was instantly surrounded by my pushbike riding, extremely jealous classmates and others. There were more of these sports mopeds, about 7/8 of us, but the Fantic Caballero looked like a real bike. A plus side it was a babe magnet, not sure if I was but the bike certainly worked it's magic. For a year I was Barry Sheene, the blonde babe on my arm, I couldn't lose. Come the seventeenth birthdays, lads started to get cars, I'd didn't, I bought a bigger bike, my Barry Sheene days weren't so prosperous. It needed a bigger bike for that...and zit cream.

Mad Max. My mates and I saw this film 4 times in the week it came out in 1979. I had graduated to a Suzuki GT185. After seeing this we all decided that our collection of 'L' plated 125/185/250cc bikes just didn't cut the mustard, it was time to think big, start travelling, take over towns. We all passed our tests, got our full bike licenses and took on the seaside towns of England. We copied the Mad Max biker gang to the last stitch, aviator goggles, motocross boots, battered leathers, sleeping bags strapped on, no tent, tents weren't cool.
The scene in the above photo was recreated in Newquay, Woolacombe, Tenby, Barmouth or anywhere that didn't have a 'no motorcycle' policy at that time...which seemed just about everywhere...or was it just us.

So that's how it started...it still hasn't finished....chapter 2 is still being ridden.

They're Back!!!

2010-08-03T01:58:00.000-07:00

The turf war is back on again. The Jehovah's Witnesses are back in the 'hood, well, they'd put a leaflet through my door anyway. I wonder if there was a big showdown in the road with the Mormons, OK Corral style...I'm guessing not, just sneaked in and scarpered, SAS style. Can't see the Witnesses in full camouflage face paint though, it wouldn't go with the cardigans.
For the first time instead of dispatching the leaflet straight into the bin I actually read it (Jeeezz, they've got me!), and the next time they pop round I have a couple of questions.

1. Do the people of the Hubbard Delta near Vancouver, Canada, know that they are the promised land, because that's the picture on the front of the leaflet, I've got a photo I took while there and they are identical. But does this mean that the Drake Show lounge strip bar will have to close?..could upset the locals that one.

2. Apparently Lions and bears will live along side people and they will grow to love each other, it's in the picture on the front of the leaflet...ummm...anyone been to West Midlands Safari park and read the signs. How long does this process take and will there be anything left of either species at the end of it...remember, it's a peaceful paradise,no guns...my moneys on the lions. I've lived in Canada for a short time...bears, humans, not good together. Until the bear 'repatriation' scheme started some years ago, one or the other ended up dead.

3. We are not going to die, live forever, no illnesses. Does this mean that Oasis song will be used as the Witnesses anthem...could be the coolest anthem at the Olympics when they win the 'door slammed in your face' gold medal. They've cured cancer without any help from science. So the entire NHS, private health care system, pharmaceutical industries and the scientists that go with it had better start re-writing your CV'S. People in the blood transfusion service will probably be shot. I Wonder who's going to help with the injuries from battling with lions and bears.

4. Everyone will work for themselves, self employed I guess, A tax office nightmare. Everyone will build there own houses and live in it, people will not build houses for others. So there goes the building industry. Brickies, hod carriers, roofers...find another vocation,onc eyou've done your own pad your on the dole.

Unemployment seems to be mounting up here, civil unrest, wonder if there is a JW police force, Army even, it may well be needed.

Questions, questions, so much to talk about....nah, can't be bothered. I'll pretend I'm not in.

Facebook and Ex's

2010-08-01T23:52:00.000-07:00

I like Facebook even though it comes in for a lot of stick. Everyone I have on my list of 'Friends' I really do know and still know and have met, except one. The young 'un in our family has 400 + friends and doesn't know half of them, just people that went to the same school, travelled on the same bus etc etc.

For me it can be very handy. If I'm organising an ice hockey get together or jaunt on an away game, our crew have our own Facebook page, all that are concerned in our little group have a place to go to find out all the details "meet in the pub at...., coach leaves at...., next game is...." log on, click on the page, job done, it's easy and saves a fortune on phone calls, texts, bother. A great tool.

But there are drawbacks with Facebook, for me occasionally embarrassing ones. Sure, you get tagged on the odd photo "The Old Days" or something like that, dodgy photos, with dodgy mates, with dodgy haircuts.

A few weeks back an ex-girlfriend of mine added me as a friend and I accepted. I haven't seen her really for about 10/11 years apart from the odd quick 'Hello' and quick shouty conversation in very loud Birmingham rock clubs, before disappearing into the dark. She's now happily married and has been for many years. All cool.

For the benefits of this post I'll call her X. X had sent me a long and detailed message about her self and the fun we had all those years ago, we were, at the time, both on the rebound and just had fun, run our course and went our separate ways, end of. She reminded about he time we all went to the Monsters of Rock festival at Donnington. She drove, we stopped in Ashby-de-la Zeuch over night, straight to the concert the next day. I don't remember too much about it, apart from both being extremely drunk before we jumped into a taxi and made our way to Donnington, liquid breakfasts/lunches, don't ya just love them.
So many years later X said she'd got some photo's of me, her, friends and she said she'd e-mail them to me. Should of realised something was a bit strange when she e-mailed instead of shoving them on her Facebook photo page, didn't realise she still had my e-mail address...I've never changed it.
So there I was quite happily watching the darts on Bravo (your getting boring now Phil Taylor, give someone else a chance!) when my better half asks if she can borrow the laptop to check her e-mails. I'd forgotten to log-off when I'd used it, but to be honest I don't bother anyway.
"Oh you've got an new e-mail...who's X, I've heard of her?"
"Just someone I knew years ago, added me on Facebook not long ago, must still have my e-mail addy, see what it says, said she was going to forward a few photos of the lads in the old days"

Click....silence...long silence.

"How well did you know her?"
"We sort of hung out together for a bit, that's all really".
" Hanging out....yep, I'd certainly say that"...turns laptop towards me.

Ah.....the screen showed a scene I that now recalled. X being in the spirit of the day and with spirits pumping their merry way around her bloodstream had done the typical rock chick thing and lifted top above head for the boys on the stage. Not long before her bra had already been dispatched I think towards Sepultura. I being the knight in shining armour had seen fit to try and hide her not inconsiderable modesties underneath my hands...with a big smile for the camera that one of my (still) friends was holding, snapping away...I bet he's still got copies as well.

"Just trying to spare the girls blushes love!"....."yeh, right".

Next photo....top back in place, my hands still firmly in place, X staring at me with big grin.

Wouldn't of been that bad but the title of the e-mail was "remember these (wink)".

The weekend has been a 'quiet' one.

44 Years of Hurt

2010-07-30T05:10:00.000-07:00

44 years ago today my only memory is jumping up and down on my Dad. Not an unusual thing for a 4 year old to do but the reason my Dad was lying flat on the floor was that he was unable to stand up and the reason...he had been 'celebrating' England's 4-2 world cup victory over West Germany at Wembley and winning the above trophy. It is only one of two times I can remember him totally out of it, a bit wobbly yes, but 'off his trolley - out cold' only twice. The second was when he retired and I had to pick him up from the party in my new MG Metro (surprised it got there..big 'up' to all at Longbridge...I wonder why you all lost your jobs!!) in which he proceeded to be very ill, I repaid him years later, just before I had to leave home!!

So I'm jealous, he got to celebrate a world cup victory. On this years performance it is clear that in my lifetime I never will. The nearest I have been in when I was on holiday in Paphos, Cyprus, when Greece won the European championships...Greek/Cypriots you see.

The place went berserk, the streets filled, traffic came to a halt. It was 11.30 at night and I made my way out of the hotel bar and down to the town centre, thought I'd make the most of this. Free Ouzo and Keo lager everywhere, I tried my best to do a 'Dad' impression but it was also extremely hot, Paphos is not Birmingham...er...at all. But I'd witnessed something not a lot of people will see, and many Englishmen will never see. Shame.

Have a great weekend.

Lil' Rambo's

2010-07-29T03:51:00.000-07:00

There's an article in one of my local papers about the banning of kid's replica toy weapons after someone complained that it leads to an obsession with weapons which in turn has lead to the knife and gun culture that is apparently ravaging our streets today.

So...let me get this straight, my years of playing war with my childhood mates in my road with my tin pedal car making an excellent tank, cowboys and Indians with wigwams made out of bedsheets, with twin gun holsters and a repeater rifle, not to mention the oppositions axes, bows and arrows etc are now going to turn me into the same guys who rampaged through Columbine University, who went on the rampage in Hungerford...er..no!

Back in my childhood there wasn't that many times when I actually wasn't armed. You always needed and carried a penknife, who knows when you were going to need a bit of rope cutting for the steering mechanism on your go kart, or sticks whittling for the pegs in you den, splitting the shells of conkers, then the string needed to go through them, carving the initials of a mate and the girl he was too scared to chat up into the bark of a tree. Penknives were freely available from the local sweetshop or newsagents...."a quarter of bon bons and a deadly weapon please". Can't remember too many stabbings down my road when I was a kid...in fact...none.

As I got older the weapons got upgraded. First..the Gat gun. The most primitive of the airguns. unscrew the pin at the back, insert the pellet, push the barrel down and fire. If you were lucky it it would hit what you aimed at, a target of more than 30 feet was ambitious. In the days of ratting down at the local canal, Gat guns were not the best choice, it would annoy the rats more than anything if it had the power to get there in the first place. The inner barrel that shot out when firing was more dangerous the the pellet it delivered

A Gat air pistol....rubbish

Then the big upgrade, a BSA Airsporter .177. This is when things got serious. Sights were added, a proper bag to carry it in, complete with seperate compartment for pellets and cleaning brushes. Professional.

My Dad was a marksman in the army so he would take me to one side and show me how things were done...as fathers do. But there was never any "guns are dangerous, get rid of it" talk, just "make sure it's used properly" and that was it.

BSA Airsporter...great air rifle, good practice for trying to shoot down Mirage fighter/bombers...or not as the case was unfortunately

So come the six weeks holiday, 11 o'clock on the dot, just after Robinson Crusoe (the black and white dubbed french version) and the Double Decker's had finished, everyone gathered and we made our way on mass to the banks and fields surrounding the Stratford-upon Avon canal. Looking back now it must have been like a scene form Reservoir Dogs, all be it with out the cool suits and shades, baggy jeans, monkey boots and T-shirts instead...not quite the same. But in broad daylight we marched down the High street, rifle shaped shoulder bags on our backs, conversation about sniper tactics about to be unleashed on the rat population. The local people must have quivered with fear, grabbed their children and run indoors waiting for the carnage to be over and pray they would live. In reality most people that knew us just said "hello", everyone else ignored us.

Once we were at the canal, we were sensible, if there was a fisherman on the banks we moved well away, simple, common sense, even at our age. Every time we took aim at a target, there was always that last look around to make sure nobody was in the way. All very easy.

The goal of all this was to get good with a gun, become a good shot. I don't remember anyone just firing off at random, there was always a point to it, always a legitimate target, be it a placed Coke can or a rat. When the day was over and the rat population has been decreased enough or we were just got stung that much by stingers in the log grass we packed everything away and made out way home, guns emptied, safety catches on, bagged and put away, home for tea and Blue Peter...or Magpie if you were slightly rebellious

I'd like to point out that although we all become mighty handy with our air rifles, not one of us has been in trouble with the police for gun crime, not one of us felt the urge to turn our weapons on the general public, popped a cap into somebodies ass during a drive-by, nobody has stabbed anyone in the street, walked into our university or college and slaughtered all we saw. One did march off to the Falklands in 1982 to fire a really big gun on his ship but an Argentinian lad who was obviously better with his airgun as a child, sunk him.

Lesson over.

The Baby Name Game

2010-07-28T05:05:00.000-07:00

Stuart, with whom I work, is expecting his first child, well not him exactly, his wife. After the initial congratulations, warnings and then inevitable horror stories from the assembled work colleagues, the conversation turned to names. It's already caused a bit of a 'domestic'. He wanted the newbie to be named after his grandparents, his wife after her's. That avenue for names was closed just before someone went off to live elsewhere. They are now officially back to square one.

So after a while, the gathered crowd of workmates started chipping in with suggestions, a helpful bunch, with still no decision on a name we thought we'd help as 'friends' do.

For starters he's a hardcore Birmingham City supporter so various names were banded about with not much enthusiasm from soon to be Dad. Someone pointed out that some footie fan's name their kids after an entire team after they've won the FA Cup or won the the league that year. Once was again pointed out that he is a Birmingham City supporter so that was an end to that idea. I did suggest just a number, 'No.1' in this case, but was immediatley shot down on the grounds of "too Star Trek". Good point, well made, suggestion dropped. Being a Birmingham City fan is one thing, being a Trekkie is another, we moved on.

He lives not too far from one of Solihull's less prime housing estate area's...Chelmsley Wood. 'Location. Location, Location' will never be filmed here. so we suggested names that might help, it didn't. We suggested names that might help his child fit in in that area and pointed out that there is a naming code in that area that all seem to stick too, the police are very grateful for it

You see, on Chelmsley Wood, every time they arrest someone that was born in the mid eighties they know his name is Jason, or if it's a woman it's Kylie. They know that all boys born in 1999 are called Brooklyn, 2002 are Romeo and in 2005 Cruz, after David Beckhams sons. When the (awful) series 'Footballers Wives' was being shown on TV, all girls born on the estate at that time where given the name Chardonnay. Its easy for the cops, just give them a birth year and they know the name. Apart from the odd Madonna, or of late. Lady Gaga, its pretty much rule of thumb. There are no reported Susan Boyles though!

The names Wayne and Colleen I've been told are causing complications at the local maternity hospital. Proud grandparents on day release from prison run expectantly into the waiting rooms "..we've come to see our new grandson Wayne" only to be answered by the nurses "take your pick! and by the way your the ninth couple claiming to be the Grandparents...who is the father?". Apparently some of the better players at this years world cup are not getting a look in...Kaka being one...well not in the naming process of the baby anyway.

He's got six months to go yet so no hurry I suppose for names, he's still struggling. I think I was called 'it' for the first few days of my life, and many times during my teenage years as well.

A Typical Chelmsley Wood baby

Holiday Prep..U-Boats and Yoga

2010-07-27T07:37:00.000-07:00

Still a couple of weeks to go before I head across the channel, arrive at Calais, then do my version of the 'Cannonball Run', 'Gumball Rally' or 'Smokey and the Bandit' and try and get to a friends house a hour away from La Rochelle. Ferry docks at 10.00am, need to be there for the BBQ by mid afternoon...ish. 616kms, No probs, probably.

Just tapped in the town I'm stopping at (La Caillere) into google to see what the local nightlife is like, is it Keith Moon, is it Leonard Cohen. Well it appears that the main social event in the town is the yoga class, sort of rules out the Keith Moon thing. Best if I pack extra books, thank god for Grandma's and Waterstones vouchers as Christmas/Birthday presents. It maybe not a bad thing as life is a bit stressful at the moment so this may be what the men in the white coats ordered, although I have been told that the next door neighbour (Gaston) has a cellar of exceedingly fine and brutally lethal wines, once he invites you in, you don't leave until you crawl out...Keith Moons back on again.

La Rochelle is an hours drive away. I've always wanted to go here since watching 'Das Boot' and see the U-Boat yards the film was based around, they are still there, apparently in good condition, a big thumbs up to German build quality or a thumbs down for late 1940's allied precision bombing...not too sure on that one. La Rochelle is also the new favourite haunt for the Parisian elite...a bit like Blackpool for us Brits...joking!

The U-Boat pens at La Rochelle...as featured in 'Das Boot'

The Direct line website, rubbish insurance company, great route finder, it puts the AA and RAC routefinders to shame. All variable routes printed, all places of interest on the route to the house, added, you can almost see that BBQ going to waste, I can...."oooh hang on, got to stop and see that, were only 4 hours away, we'll make it!!"...not. I have got a Garmin sat nav but after a recent trip to a vineyard in Worcester where it took us through what can only be described as 'Deliverance' country it has been dispatched back to its box in the loft. Maps don't tell you which way to go, they show you which ways you can go if you want...much nicer "nah, lets go there for a cuppa, then go there, then head to where we want to go"...yep, much nicer. How many times have I shouted at that sat nav and all she has to say back is "recalculating", or if I've got my Ozzy Osbourne voice programmed in "you've gone the wrong f***ing way!".

So more homework to be done, all part of the fun of a road trip.

1 Minute 44.2 My Arse!!!

2010-07-26T04:57:00.000-07:00

Cameron Diaz and Tom Cruise try to unmask Ben Collins...sorry...The Stig from Top Gear

The gorgeous Cameron Diaz graced my TV last night when she appeared on Top Gear and brought along Tom Cruise for good measure. Both seemed totally relaxed and the banter between Jeremy Clarkson was really quite entertaining, 10/10, both obviously car fans, but Cruise admitting that he's more into bikes nowadays (major Brownie points for ol' Tom there). No mention of Scientology in the segment, just cars and a clip of the pairs new film, hey, a small price to pay. Jezza even getting a quip in about 'man juice' in Something about Mary...classic.

But then came the laps in the 'reasonably priced car'. Miss Diaz first and despite having trouble with the gearbox it was quite obvious that she was not hanging around. The Stig had taught her well.

Then came Mr Cruise, slow, careful maybe, lots of missed gears and bad lines. Could he be slower than Terry Wogan surely not

Jezza read out the times. "Cameron Diaz, you did it in 1 minute 45.2!!", hysteria amongst the crowd, she goes top of the leader board, fair do's, she was really quick.

Now for Tom's time..this is going to be embarrassing, "Tom Cruise, you did it in.......1 minute 44.2!!"......utter bollocks. Cue images in my head of Tom's 'people' meeting with the Top Gear 'people' behind closed doors with a suspicion of "If you want Tom on the programme, he is the fastest you've had on here...right?..."(gulp) er..yes, ok"...."good, sign here to make sure it happens". Don't think I'm too far off the mark. But he has raced cars in the past so I may be wrong (solicitors/lawyers please note that one).

Top entertainment though. But the bit with the VW Toureg Dakar car was worth the viewing time on its own

urrrgghhh...Real Ale.

2010-07-23T05:14:00.000-07:00

I feel a bit rough this morning, must of been that last packet of crisps I had. Thought I'd pop out late last night for a quick beer and catch up a few talking points with my friends, haven't seen a couple of them for a while. A 'few' hours and a 'few' beers later, a fine selection of real ales at J.D. Wetherspoons at the moment, a shambling wreck came crashing through the front door of the family home, according to on-lookers, desperately trying to figure out how to turn off his ipod while swearing at it and eventually throwing it on the sofa, aparrently uttering something about never having this problem with his old cassette Walkman. Violence and technology..not good bedfellows.

A pub. Avoid at all costs

Five hours sleep, 2 paracetamol, large glass of orange juice, banana and a bowl of cereals later...no difference, still feel like I've got a team of lumberjacks felling trees in my head with very loud chainsaws, and the one's using their axes are missing the trees and hitting the inside of my skull. Never drinking again, ever...honest. Have a good and sober weekend...maybe!

Luck and Courage. My Grandad and his Friend 1915

2010-07-22T02:02:00.000-07:00

I'm off to France for a couple of weeks next month, borrowing a friends house about an hour from La Rochelle. Gorgeous sleepy village where nothing happens, one bar, one shop, it will do me just fine. A perfect chill-out holiday. It will also act as a springboard for something I've wanted to do for many years.
We have decided to comeback up to northern France a couple of days early in order to visit some of the world war 1 and world war 2 cemeteries. My better half has a great grandfather who died at Ypres and a grandfather that died at Dunkirk. My side of the family seemed to have better luck during the wars, all seem to have managed to get through it and come home. My Mum's cousin was one of the escapees that managed to get out of a German POW camp in the famous 'wooden horse' escape

My Dads father was a whole lot luckier in every sense of the word. During the first world war was enlisted in the 2nd Battalion, the Royal Warwickshire Regiment.

On the 25th September 1915 they were in an attack on the German trenches at the Hulloch Quarries during the battle of Loos. He and a few on his regiment had been given wire cutters to cut through the German barbed wire so the rest of the regiment could advance on the trenches, keeping the momentum going. As they went over the top they were met by withering machine gun and rifle fire, they were mown down. My grandfather and his wire cutting detachment tried to make their way forward but just before the wire he was hit in the shoulder by a rifle bullet and collapsed.

His good friend Arthur 'Titch' Vickers managed to get to the first line of barbed wire and stood up in broad daylight and cut the wire while his regiment were falling all around him. He managed to get through to the second line of wire and cut that, the battalion managed to get through.
500 men of the Royal Warwickshires went over the top on that charge, 140 survived.

My grandfathers war was over, he survived, his wound meant that he would fight no more. Arthur Vickers also survived that day, he was awarded the Victoria Cross, he remained in the Army.

My Dad was talking about Arthur last night, he said his memory of him was when his Dad took him round to Arthur's house to visit him and take him some food. There was a man, a tiny man, clearly unwell, with a cap on, wrapped in a shoal or a light blanket. He found it hard to believe that this small, fragile, grey man had been the man his Father had told him about at Hulloch Quarry. Arthur died of TB shortly after the visit in 1944 in West Heath, Birmingham

He was buried without ceremony, without a proper headstone, quite common at the time as many stone masons were fighting in yet another world war. His grave at Witton cemetery, only recently (in 2000) was given an appropriate headstone by Birmingham city council.

I'm not Bill Oddie.

2010-07-21T02:09:00.000-07:00

The winter cost my garden pond dearly. I went away for a few days only to return and find the pump not working the pond frozen with a couple of inches of ice and the sight of 70% of my fish belly up. My first thought was "bloody 'ell, I didn't think they were that big", before going into mourning realising that years of hard work and ended with them being stared lovingly by three cats with dripping mouths waiting for the ice to melt.

The ice was broken and the casualties removed as quickly as I could to give the survivors the best possible chance, topped the pond with fresh water and cleaned the pump. Added a football to the water to try and give me a hole when the ice forms again. The dead were given a heroes funeral...in the dustbin...they don't give you a special bin for recycling pond life by me.

Later that week when the ice had melted I noticed more casualties at the bottom of my pond. My frogs. I'm not too sure how long they had been dead, but they were clearly dead, a prod with the end of my fishing net pole confirmed it. Out with the fishing net and off to the funeral home (the dustbin).

Next day I retold my frog story to my work colleagues and was met with the words that I had long forgotten..."they hibernate"...."but they were at the bottom of the pool!!!"..."that's were some of them hibernate males usually, how many have you got rid of?"..."4, big 'un's as well".

Yep, I'm a murderer. I'm just one step away from Harold Shipman. I couldn't stop thinking about the frogs coming too in the warmth of the dustbin and trying to get out...or when the dustbin men tip the bin into the back of the wagon and...no, too many pictures going through my head.

This frog is alive and happy in his pond....so were mine.

Well as from last night I have new frogs. A friends pond is overrun with them and he has kindly donated a few to start me off again and a book on aquatic pond life and their habits. My Orfe can't wait..tadpoles...yummy!!

Planespotting In Style...No More

2010-07-19T00:57:00.000-07:00

Farnborough air show offically opens today and seeing as my company is a very big part of the aviation industry, We get free tickets, 'access all area' passes for us and our families and the transport to get us there and back.

We get to see up close and personal all the latest planes, simulators, accessories military hardwear, everything to do with the aviation industry. Executives, auditors from other companies that we know that used to walk round our facility, who would grill you about working practices, question you intensly about our product knowledge and generally try to to give you a hard time all of a sudden become backslapping, round of beer buying mates who haven't seen you for a while...actually the beer is free in the corporate villages, so's the food, so's everything.

Our kids get to go and play on everything. One flash of a 'pass' and my daughter was whisked up in the air and placed in the front cockpit of a Sukhoi fighter flight simulator much to the annoyance of the large queue of regular punters and aircraft enthusiasts who had queued for god knows how long. One on one attention form one of Russia's top fighter test pilots she managed to shoot down a nasty capitalist American Tomcat and return to base safely..mission accomplished. Once out of the simulator I encouraged my daughter to say "thank you" to the Sukhoi pilot and give him one of our company lapel pin badges as a gift. I've never seen a Russian pilot panic before, I didn't think they did...cold as ice I thought. But the panic that set in when he realised he hadn't got anything to give to my daughter in return took me by suprise, he almost fell over himself as he disappeared into a back room of the simualtor exhibiton, to reappear with armfulls of Sukhoi stuff and just plonked all of it into her arms. Cue hysteria from said gathered regular plane spotters and enthusiasts. I now know what Russian for " this is for her, not you" is, before a big grin creased his face and he waved goodbye.

A Sukhoi SU-33. My daughter can fly one of these...with a little help

That's what it's like there for the kids they run round all day swapping my company pin badges with everyone. It is funny watch this bunch of little kids with bags and bags of freebies sitting at the front of the airfield with all their booty laid out on the grass, not slightly interested that the latest miltary hardwear is lined up on the runway, engines screaming and about to make its public debut to the crowds...kids are fickle. But it is a truely great day out

Not any more!

All this has come to an end. Apparantly it's now only executives allowed in the corporate village. We can still get tickets, £25.00 a pop, and the travel...theres a train leaving Birmingham international train station and 6.00am in the morning that should get you there for 10.00am.
We the engineers that build the products, put them right when they go wrong, rescue the managers butts when they have made an incorrect decision that has led to almost a catastrophe, have now got to stay away from their day/week in the spotlight.
No more being able to speak to our customers, no more being able to say that there is a problem with a product they send us but we have all the processes in place to sort it out. Credit crunch, company cutbacks...I think I've just found out why we are not allowed in the executives any more...we know too much...they don't.

Bob Probert...R.I.P.

2010-07-16T02:12:00.000-07:00

I wasn't going to post today but a quick flick onto my beloved Detroit Redwings website to see how the closed season signings are going stopped me in my tracks. One of my favourite players of my time, one of my heroes, has passed away. Bob Probert died after suffering chest pains while on holiday with his family. He was 45 years old.

I still have visions, when in BC, of the nice man in the Vancouver Canuck's shop at their arena (the PNE at the time) trying to persuade me to buy a Canuck's home jersey..."nope, Detroit Redwings away shirt, '24' and 'Probert' on the back with the proper font as well, can you do it...no!...I'll go elsewhere!" I got one, with a fight strap!!! and cherish it to this day. I'll now retire it, frame it along with the 'upper deck' trading cards I have. Pride of place in my 'Jungle' room

He was a great player but will be remembered more for his fighting abilities, the best enforcer the NHL has seen...I think so. I remember going to the 'Heineken Ice Hockey Play-offs' at Wembley arena in London in the eighties and buying a dodgy copy of the 'Bruise Brothers' video featuring Bob and his partner in crime at Detroit Joey Kocur. Absolutely hooked. Some people frowned on what Bob Probert and his kind did on the ice for a living, to me it was part of the game and could turn a quiet game into an a classic, fire everyone up and Steve Yzerman was safe.

Detroit Redwings' Bob Probert (left) and Chicago Blackhawks Stu Grimsom settle their differences

Bob Probert was no angel, you could argue that someone with his CV of trouble should not be a 'hero', I'm having none of it. To say he had run-in's with the law would be an understatement. Drug addiction, alcoholism, assault, jail..the list goes on, but with some help he sorted himself out, although when he did 'Battle of the Blades' it was painful...no not painful, confusing...but at least he did it in hockey skates...forgiven. He loved his bikes, the picture of his funeral has encouraged me to change my will, that's the way I want to go out of this world and into the next..wherever that my be. He was 45 years old, I'm 48. We've both abused our bodies and it's made me think about a few things.

Probert is survived by his wife Dani and his four children: Tierney, Brogan and twins Jack and Declyn.
One of the most touching moments of the service came from Probert's daughters.
"On July 5, 2010, my father was called to heaven," said Tierney.“Heaven will never be the same.”
"I had the goofiest, most embarrassing dad ever," Brogan said during the service. "But he was my dad, and I will always love him."

R.I.P. Bob Probert and thanks for the memories, enjoyed every single one of them.

On This Day....Things to Ponder

2010-07-14T01:59:00.000-07:00

1988 - The Nashville radio station WYHY offered $1 million dollars to anyone who could produce Elvis Presley alive.
1998 - Death of Richard McDonald, American fast food pioneer...possibly the reason nobody will find ol' Elvis, unless they start digging up Gracelands gardens. Although I did meet him in Las Vegas last year and have the pictures to prove it.

http://www.vivalasvegasweddings.com/pink_caddy_wedding_new.html

1933 -All German political parties except the Nazi Party were outlawed...I have a 1935 VDA yearbook "Volksbund der Deutschen im Ausland" (Nazi organization for Germans who lived outside the borders of the Reich) thats been in my family for many years. If anyone wants to read the most frightening book there is.....

1999-Race-based school busing in Boston ended after 25 years....and 44 years after Rosa parks refused to give up her seat on a bus in Montgomery...what took them!!

1903 It became known that the government would reject proposals to introduce driving tests, vehicle inspections and penalties for drunken drivers.....How times have changed. Probably thought it would never catch on, or the public coffers where full at the time

1766 The official opening of the 137 mile long Grand Union Canal (Britain's longest canal) that links London to Birmingham...one of favourite mountain biking routes.

1940 World War II: Britain tackled the threat of a German invasion by forming the Home Guard - a part-time volunteer army, generally comprising men too old for national service....and Arthur Lowe, John Le Measurier, John Laurie and Arnold Ridley got an extension on their careers.

1967, The Who began their first full North American tour at the Memorial Coliseum, Portland, Oregon, appearing as support band to Herman's Hermits on 55 dates...and Hilton Hotels, Holiday Inns would learn some new words...Keith Moon. Rolls Royces didn't look good unless they were

at the bottom of a swimming pool

Live Aid...Happy Anniversary Dave and Annette

2010-07-13T02:09:00.000-07:00

Live aid took place 25 years ago today. I've just realised I've lived almost as long since Live Aid than before it...I now feel old...uuurrgghh.
It was also the day that friends of mine decided to get married, seemed to be the trend with people I knew at that time, if one did it they all did it, This was the 3rd wedding I'd been to in as many months. But this one was different..It was Live Aid day although it must be said the wedding was planned long before Geldoff got his butt into gear. Even now I remember Dave and Annette asking a few people just before the wedding if they would like to come and the replies of "but its Live Aid!" coming back at them. Needless to say all that should of been there were there and that's all that mattered BUT under orders that there was a telly in a separate room that we could nip out and watch the rumoured Black Sabbath/Led Zeppelin re-unions if they happened (and they did...sort of).
It was a gorgeous sunny day, I managed to get the opening salvo of Status Quo in before the Style Council killed Wembley's party atmosphere stone dead and I decided to head to the pub, The Plume of Feathers, opposite St James church for pre-wedding drinks and better bands hopefully, despite orders from the grooms father that we were to behave ourselves and not be intoxicated in the church...cue grooms father driving past with said groom to see us waving and whistling at them as they drove past the pub...he hated us.
I don't remember much about the wedding strangely enough, I don't remember much about the reception either apart from getting turned down by the bridesmaids for that last arse grabbing dance to the slow songs at the end...their loss!! All I do know is that I ended up back at the flat of some people who'd I'd only met that night and carried on partying while watching the concert. Zeppelin did get back together and were stunning....until I saw the DVD many year later and decided that copious amounts of beer had made them sound immensely better than they were by a large amount...Phil Collins is no John Bonham, Ozzy was out of it and Sabbath were awful, even the beer couldn't cover than one up.
But it was, I was told, a hugely successful wedding, I made some good friends, Dave and Annette are still together, Led Zeppelin and Sabbath are not (once in a while re-unions for cash don't count).
It was a good day. Happy silver wedding anniversary Dave and Annette.

They Think It's All Over...

2010-07-11T23:43:00.000-07:00

.......It is now! Summer, BBQ's, Holland's (Netherlands, Nederlands, the Dutch) image that they play total football, unless you count 'total' as the amount of yellow/red cards or the amount of opposition kneecaps, or in a couple of cases ribs, you can break. Boring match, first world cup final I've decided to go and feed my fish and stare at my garden pond, chat to my neighbour who'd also got bored with the 'midfield tussle' and decided to sweep his patio. Lance Armstrong's Tour De France, Red Bull Racing's 'we're one big happy family here' reputation. The list go's on and on this weekend, but we are British, we thrive on disappointment (and queues).
So it's back to normal. Camping gear that's been hovering ready for use is now stacked on my upstairs landing ready for stowing in my loft. My waterproof cycling jacket is dusted off and in my backpack ready for use. The lawnmower blades will be sharpened ready to cut the grass that will now grow 3 feet in 3 days. The BBQ instant lighting charcoal will be back in Tescos if I can find the receipt..."sorry, brought the wrong stuff can I have a refund, I meant to buy a set of gloves and a woolly hat!"
It's not such a bad thing, watching British people confused by the weather walking around, bright red in colour, wondering why their skin has changed from from it's normal pastey blue colour and hurts a lot. Never quite being able to carry off wearing shorts and summer clothes like our continental cousins with out looking like the worst Blackpool has to offer in the height of the tourist season, union jack shorts, cap sleeve t-shirts...shudder.
The Sun never quite got to re-print it's 'Phoo..what a scorcher' headline again. They can put that one with my camping gear in the loft if they want, save it for next year...maybe...hopefully.

"Keep your head up son, watch where you going and you won't crash". Lance Armsrong fails to heed the basic cycling rules that my Dad taught me

Today...I Will Be Mostly In Front Of The TV!

2010-07-11T02:09:00.000-07:00

and why....bit of an armchair sports fans dream actually, or 'outside with the BBQ cooking, cold beer and the TV set up outside in the shade so you can see it' sports fans dream!!! Have a nice day.

The Old Footballing Enemies Meet Again...please!

2010-07-05T06:34:00.000-07:00

"You are now driving into the country of the European champion."

England vs Germany...nah, footballing equvilient of two Grannies sitting down for afteroon 'tiffin' at the local tea shop. Netherlands (or Holland as we used to call them) vs Germany..22 man warfare with a couple of extras to replace the wounded. History on and off the pitch makes thias unmissable and the footballing worlds hope that this will be the 2010 final. Off the pitch 1939-45, you know the story, on the pitch well...a Daily Sport football editors dream.

World Cup final, Munich, Germany 1974

Total football the Dutch called there style of play. They weren't far wrong. Long recognised as possibly the only national team put together that could come anywhere near the the legndary Brazilian team of 1970 (how come I can name both Brazilian and Dutch teams of those era's but can't name the England team of 2010!!). They looked good too; long-haired, decadent hipsters swanning around Germany for a month, love-beads a-clacking as they romped with waitresses in hotel pools. Destroying everything in the opening rounds all the way to the final, a joy to watch and doing it in swashbuckling style...how many fathers still do the 'Johan Cryuff' switch turn, turn their 3 year old sons inside out and turn to their wives and utter the words "there...still got it!" with wife looking on disgusted as said three year old is in tears or utterly confused as to whats going on.

Then to the final...opponents...West Germany.

A wise German newspaper reporter had got wind of the fun and frolicks happening in the 'roman galleon' camp and leaked it to the press networks and into the Dutch media. Cue the clattering of Dutch footballers wives shoes stomping through customs at Munich airport to confront their husbands and partners.

It was a different Holland that came out for that final, they seemed to have forgotten a few things...total football being one, which seemed to be replaced by an urge to show up the German team for the sins of their forfarthers

It's not Germany's fault Holland started to bugger about in an attempt to "humiliate" the Germans for the crimes of world war two. The Nazis had indeed visited misery and death on the Netherlands, but this was 30 years down the line and only Wim van Hanegem, whose entire family were tragically killed, harboured any real bitterness. The Germans just did what the do best, even now..stick to the game plan...and it worked. For all the wizardry of the Dutch, they couldn't upset the Germans, not even with the help of a British referee! 2-1 all over, better luck next time.

World Cup 1990

Frank Rijkaard....Rudi Voller...mullets..airbourne and hair bound lung butter...nuff said!

Heres to the next meeting.....mid July 2010 hopefully.

2010-06-29T05:09:00.000-07:00

'Famous Last Words' courtesy of The Sun newspaper, spot on again lads, add this to the Falklands 'Gotcha' front page to your 'Hall Of Fame' The headline writer is now banished to the Athletics pages...all dopes together!!. Still at least we can enjoy it now...unless you own an Off License, BBQ sales outlet or an England sportwear enterprise...second bounce recession comes early...unlucky, should of moved to Brazil.

Seems a long time ago now!!!!

Gutsy isn't half of it..

2010-01-13T05:21:00.000-08:00

Tamsin Jones is bidding to become the youngest British women to complete the most gruelling, dangerous motorsport event on the calander on two wheels...The Dakar Rally. The Dakar is now run in Argentina and Chile instead of from Lisbon, Portugal, through to Dakar in Senegal, but the route is no less forgiving, more so on some stages.

Riding a KTM rally bike she is a present on stage 11 (out of 14) of the rally and some of these stages are 800km long, few roads, almost all on gravel rocks, sand and the infamous white sand dunes in 40 degree heat, she's still going strong albeit at the towards back of the field but this is not a race it's a challenge, completing the rally is as bigger victory as being one of the professionals who actually will win it. To put things in prespective 50% of motorcycle entries in the field are already out including some of the worlds top rally riders, but for a change on the Dakar...nobodies died.

As I type, January 15th, on stage 13 she's still there, and improving. ..gutsy isn't half of it

http://www.tamsinjonesdakar.co.uk/

Confession time..not good

2010-01-08T05:24:00.000-08:00

...and not of the 'Window Cleaner' or 'Driving instructor' type, but it's bad all the same...

"I'VE WATCHED CELEBRITY BIG BROTHER!!"

There, I said it, now I know what it feels like to an alcoholic at an AA meeting for the first time, that weight of your shoulders after getting rid of the denial then running off to the pub for a quick pint.

I thought I'd swap over from the World Darts Championship while they were between games and never went back...I feel ashamed. Worst bit is that with the exception of two I know who they all are. It took a teenager to fill in the blanks (Lady Sovereign...Basshunter...who??, nope still never heard of them). I thought Vinnie Jones had a successful movie career, the film roles must a bit thin on the ground this time of year...and if they're not, they will be now.

I sat there and watched a born again christian hellraiser preacher slowly try and convert a young twenty something rapper. A born again christian hellraiser preacher try and get off with a former Dynasty star. A former (supposedly) Hollywood Madam being chatted up by a one hit wonder boy band member (sorry just found out he had another chart success with Victoria Beckham...doesn't count). A large chested model trying to convince a large chested models boyfriend that his large chested model was trouble and he'd be better of with her mate...who is a large chested model (but he's just found out Ivana Trumps last two toyboys have walked off with about $5,000,000 each...churrchinggg!!!)

In the end it's really sad, careers ending, well the ones that already haven't, right in front of your face. The last throw of the celebrity dice before selling the assets to pay for the (or more) plastic surgery..the botox has all been used up...see Heidi Fleiss, the Hollywood Madam for details., former high class prostitute now in the bargain basement.
Still Vinnies ruling the roost at the moment..hope nobody annoys him, Paul Gascoinge spoke in a high pitched voice for months after he did.

Still I'll be there tonight...or have I got some paint to watch drying...who knows...who cares.

Cool Runnings...The British Version

2010-01-08T00:57:00.000-08:00

The snow's down and while North America, Scandinavia and every other snow covered nation carries on as if it were summer, we've ground to a halt and given ourselves lots of leisure time and leisure time in the snow means sledging. Your elderly neighbours can't get to shops for food and supplies...stuff 'em, its time us us Brits to use our initiative and build the mother of all sledges.
Years ago, in my and my partners in crime youth, the weapon of choice was a car roof, or as we used to call it, a four man bob... four roof pillars, one roof pillar each to hold on to...easy. The sight of a mark 1 Ford Escort with a car roof on IT'S roof always used to draw admiring glances from the public and not so from officers of the law, but they always sent us on our way and phoned ahead to the local hospital warning them of 'four incoming'. Still Henley-in -Arden awaited and armed with state of the art winter gear (donkey jackets, German paratrooper boots and motorcycle gloves...the Army and Navy store...the 'River Island' of its day to a young man in the late 70's/early 80's) we were ready for the Warwickshire winter Olympics (Vancouver eat your heart out!).
The sledging, luge, toboggan, ski, sled, truck tyre, tea tray, inner tube, plastic sheeting, car roof (told you we were inventive) course was simple. Big, very steep hill, with the added incentive that if you didn't stop at the bottom there is a nice deep stream to stop you dead...dead being what might happen on a car roof!.
The Car roof was brilliant. The fastest thing on the slope, flying past every other contraption that the British public had invented in their sheds to deal with this Siberian weather (almost!). We made it to the deep stream on every attempt where our state of the art winter gear soaked up the frozen water like a desert...hypothermia within a hour. Unfortunately it was also the most dangerous. The Mark 2 version a few years later had padding around the roof pillars as we decided that having teeth in our heads and five fingers on our hands lead to a much better standard of living..and plaster of Paris on your wrists and hands is a pain when trying to carry pints of beer back from the bar. The Mark 3 version never went into production..we got older and stopped healing as quickly.
Still...we laugh now about it. it's still funny to see people reminiscing while removing the denture plates and showing the scars where the metal plates where removed. So when you watch 'Cool Runnings' and the Jamaican four man bob team have crashed and are heading down the course clinging on for dear life before sliding to a halt and preying to their gods to thank them for life, just remember there's four guys in the Midlands shouting at their respective TV's.. "what a bunch of amateurs...there's not even a stream at the bottom!". Have fun out there.

Canucks takin' the Michael

2010-01-07T07:30:00.000-08:00

I've got a couple of Canadian colleagues that are quite amused at the moment, watching a country grind to a halt after a couple of inches of snow (not gone metric yet..well not the English speaking side anyway). They've been e-mailing me with jokes certainly not publishable here about our incompetence to anything when the temperature drops below zero.
Having spent a fair deal of time in Vancouver in the past I can see their point. As one of them pointed out, snow means fun to them, panic to us, plus we make the best four wheel drive cars in the world and don't know how to use them. All I can send back in 'South Park' YouTube clips (Blame Canada...look it up). Oh well at least we get better summers...er...no we don't do we anymore.
I'm emigrating!!!!

Happiness is...Buzzin' Ears

2009-09-25T21:55:00.000-07:00

Live music is the best music, combine it with a good pit of beer and its a recipe for a great night out. A new music venue has opened not too far from where I live. 'not too far' being a fiver or less in a taxi. Route 44 is based in what I presume is an old 'function' room at the side of a pub in Acocks Green. It was once a pub with a reputation of 'ENTER ON YOUR OWN RISK' written all of it...literally, the graffiti artists work overtime around here.
I need not have worried, the venue was decked out in all late '70's/80's splendour and the children of those era's could breath again...if they could, still trying to get into jeans they bought at around the same time..tut, tut.
The 'support' band...one guitarist and a singer straight out of the later new romantic era, singer with little finger raised front he mic, doing his best to be Tony Hadley (Spandau Ballet) and failing miserably to our great delight...a wedding singer gone horribly wrong. One 'Marc Almond' comment too many and it was too much for him and he left the stage for a pint...of beer hopefully (nudge, nudge, wink, wink to people in the know).
So on came 'Rockstar' and instantly won the crowd over, loud proud and covered songs that don't normally get an outing, you can only listen to Freebird and Ace of Spades so many times. Throw in a lead singer with a voice like Rob Halford and the comedy touch of Lee Evans and the the gathered masses were with them all the way...finishing with the Beasties boys 'Fight for your Right'...job done. We spilled into the chilly night air shouting ( it was loud, we were deaf) that we will meet again in a couple of weeks time...just need to find my old 'cut-off' denim jacket with the rock band patches on the back....then again......

Twiddling thumbs..Not.

2009-09-20T23:48:00.000-07:00

Lots of stuff happening in Ordinary Towers. Big, events in my life about to take place which is now taking up all of time, time which is fast running out. Explains my absence from the virtual world anyway.

I've always put aside 'chill-out' time, when after a hard days work or running around at home I can switch off, turn on the TV, get a book out, hit the lap-top, generally mess about with not too serious stuff...those days seem, for now, seem to have gone. No time to buy a new motorcycle (really missing Sunday mornings with a cup of tea just cleaning it, it was a sort of therapy!), no time for socializing of the excessive beer intake type, no time for blogs...and just when I don't need it, work is picking up as well. Love the overtime money, it pays for big boys toys, but I've got no time to do it, my weekend seem to have been gobbled up, my nights seem to be the same. The recession could have gone on for a bit longer if I had my way.

Rediscovered Wings and Beatles this week, not the flying kind or creepy crawly bugs, but the 'Paul McCartney and...' type. Strange how a lot of films nowadays are featuring 70's music on their soundtracks. Unfortunately it means the prices of the said CD's goes up on ebay, but still cheaper than downloading from itunes.

So TTFN and its back into the muck and the bullets...anyone got a motorbike I can polish!!!!

Party time

2009-08-28T01:57:00.000-07:00

From having really nothing to do for most of this upcoming bank holiday weekend, all of a sudden the social diary is full. Unfortunately one of the event s means that bank holiday might be mostly spent horizontal on the sofa..fast asleep.
A friend of mine has a wedding anniversary on Sunday and is celebrating with an all day barbecue. Excellent, so much better than a night only one where you know you've only got limited time to..er..enjoy yourself.
What it does mean is that a) don't eat anything during the day before I get there, he's BBQs are legendary (Carlsberg BBQ...all meat, no veg, you've probably seen the advert on TV) and b) Is a two case BBQ, two cases of Budweiser for the bath tub full of ice. You always take extra and leave some for the host at the end...48 bottles should do it!!!
They are lucky people, the next door neighbours are a lovely elderly couple who, and its probably a good thing are tone deaf. The hosts are huge rock fans with a huge music collection and a system to play the stuff on to match.

I am supposed to be selling my motorcycle this weekend (will happen..fingers crossed) and then going off to find my new off-road bike (will not happen...you don't by motorcycles when you've got a hangover...you buy rubbish because bartering hurts your head). May have to leave that until next weekend. Oh well it gives me a week to lie on the living room floor, motorcycle papers and magazines scattered everywhere, with my tongue hanging out, circling everything that takes my fancy...probably everything. Then bribing my better half with a new pair of shoes to take me to some god forbidden part of the country to go and look at something that looks like nothing like it did in the picture or the description. She loves it.

Recommendation of the week... The Hurt Locker. Get to your local cinema now, don't wait for the DVD.

Have a great holiday weekend...pass the aspirin!

Ebay...money for nothing

2009-08-26T02:03:00.000-07:00

...or money for rubbish I should of thrown out years ago. Old RAF uniforms, football, rugby league and ice hockey shirts, confectionery collectibles (thanks to my Dad working at Cadburys), you name it, it's about to be sold to the highest bidder, even my bike at the rate it's going.

I've never sold anything on ebay before, bought loads, always in for a bargain. I've never been drawn into a bidding war, what's the point, there'll be another one along shortly.

So I've spent the last couple of days in the loft eyeing up what would be greatly appreciated by the general public out there. I can't wait to get into my Mum and Dads loft, that will be a true test of mental strength. My 1960's Scaletrix set, forget Damon Hill, we are talking Dad Graham here. I haven't used it for 30 years, should I let the dust get thicker or get rid of it now..me thinks the later. Huge piles of Birmingham City programmes, 'Park Drive' books of football, oh yeah, get cancer and collect football books while your doing it. The list go's on and on.

The only problem I find with ebay is I try to re-buy my childhood. The 'Johnny Seven' for £165.00 was one example. Luckily I was out bid with 5 seconds to go. What the hell was I going to do with it...straight in the loft. My first moped was another, watching a bidding war going on and thinking "if it goes past £1000..I'm out". 3 minutes later...."if it goes past £3000...I'm out. Fools game. But my CD collection is mostly ebay. HMV £9.99, ebay 2.99, no contest.

So tonight it's back in the loft, rummaging in the garage to see what else I can profit from. So much easier than car-booting and without the horrid banter that you always get there..."how much do you want?"..."£5.00"...."I've got 20p...etc etc.

How much do 2 year old male tabby cats fetch nowadays!!!!!

Timewasters...shoot 'em

2009-08-24T02:04:00.000-07:00

With my bike up for sale in in various newspapers and on the odd website, the phone calls started bright and early on Friday. One in particular was very encouraging. A guy from south Wales. Lots of phone calls between us agreeing a provisional price upon him seeing the bike (he would not of been disappointed) and it was all sealed. I would pick him up from he local train station, cash payment and he would ride the bike away, but could I fit a couple of the accessories that I was selling with the bike, "no problem" I said, "see you tomorrow..2.05pm train" he said. There was also a couple of phone calls after when he was sorting out his insurance. As good as sold.

Come Saturday, I'd left work early giving up some valuable overtime to be there, 2.05pm at the local station, the train pulls up and low and behold...no Welshman with a crash helmet, missed the train, got on the wrong one, off at the wrong station...I would ring him and find out.

"Hi Paul, just wondering if your on you way here?"

"Hello mate, you just read my mind, I was going to give you a call. I will have to give it a miss
with the bike, we are doing some work to the house instead"

He didn't get chance to finish his explanation, I'd already decided to save my phone credit. So it seems Munchhausen syndrome is alive and well in south Wales. I did get warned with my bike that it would lead to 'wannabes' and 'tyre kickers' coming after it but the first one...jeez.
Oh well, I've got his mobile number and I'll pass it on to the local 'massage' parlour stating the guy on the end of the phone wants to know if you can bring yourselves and a couple of donkeys around to his for a party, but give him a ring first...I do hope his wife answers.

Bitter and twisted signing off for today. See you soon.

Stan the man...I mean...eagle

2009-08-21T05:03:00.000-07:00

"How much!!!!". Thats what replaces the initial ooohs and aaahhhhs at the sight of one of England's best preserved castles. £50.00 off me before I've seen my first jester and if he had taken the stage at Birmingham's comedy club 'The Glee' he would of had to retire...hurt. Jesters may have been a figure of fun to people many centuries ago but to a two year old they might as well be Godzilla, fire breathing and all. But Jesters have an amazing turn of speed when parents and uncles are trying to stop their kids from screaming. Why have they all got Cornish accents??

Sad news of the day, Arthur the Buzzard is no more, probably a good thing. Good news of the day Stan the sea eagle and his mates the American bald eagles have replaced him. Much better entertainment, not quite worth the entrance fee alone, but great all the same.

Stan is the star of the show, an enormous bird, 6 foot plus wingspan, but totally focused on his handlers glove and whats in it...food.

The handler told the crowd that he had been told off by a couple of members of the public earlier on in the year for trying to scare the ducks and mallards in the castle pond before the show. He explained to them that they were in danger from the sea eagle, but the public complainers were having none of it, so he stopped shooing the birds.

Later that day, in the middle of the show, he introduced Stan and form out of the distance sky's came a magnificent sea eagle...mallard in talons, he landed mid arena on his perch with the screaming duck and proceeded to dismember the still live bird in front of the crowd. The handler spotted on of the members of the public who had remonstrated with him, what did he do..."I just smiled as she tried to shield the eyes of her sobbing kids as she led them away". Brilliant.

Stan the Sea Eagle

The jousting, all very spectacular. Out of work Shakespearean actors earning a few 'bob'. Over acting in the extreme. Out came our hero, Sir Richard, loads of cheers, then the black night, loads of boo's, then the French night, bigger boo's. A lot of people had obviously been doing their homework before they arrived yesterday.

But Warwick Castle is..well, not bad. It seems to have 'Americanised' itself a bit nowadays, not really sure that's what our colonial cousins really want when they see our history but its obviously what the Tussuad's group who own the castle are pampering to. Would I again, yes, but buy tickets in advance, saves you a fortune and take a picnic, the ground a manicured and the burgers are £4.75...nuff said.

Old bricks

2009-08-19T23:59:00.000-07:00

Off to see a pile of old bricks today....Warwick Castle. Having a day out with my nephews. Its only down the road from where I live really so it's nice and easy, you don't get stressed just travelling there then have to cope with five mile long ice cream queues, it is the school holidays.
The last time I went to Warwick Castle with the little ones it was on the basis of the much heralded and advertised 'Birds of Prey' exhibition/demonstrations that the castle was pushing along with a Madamme Tussauds waxwork display of all the English Kings/queens of legend.
The birds of prey were very impressive, falcons skimming the heads of the crowd, Buzzards picking things of peoples heads, ooohhs and aahhhhs in abundance.
Then came Arthur, the golden eagle, a huge magnificent fully grown creature, happy to be touched by kids, displayed his absolutely enormous wingspan on demand every time.
Arthur, we then told was going to be released and come back down from a great height skim the crowd, attack a lure and land back on to his trainer arm, all good stuff.
So off went Arthur, soaring into the sky circling above us, out came the owners tempting 'half mouse on a string' bait for Arthur to attack and the owner starts swirling it above his head, all the time telling the expectant crowd what they were about to see.
At this point my niece pointed out that the mouse on the string was now mouseless, it had come off with all the swirling. Now nieces must have the same intense eyesight as a golden eagle because no one else had noticed...except Arthur, who then, without a tempting mouse to tempt him back to his trainer decided to bugger off and find his own. Arthur became smaller and smaller until he'd completely disappeared, out came the hand held satellite dish to home in on his microchip, along with apologies from trainer about his skiving bird.
I hope Arthur is there today, his disappearing act was the most entertaining part of the show, but try telling a blubbling 5 year old that.

Floating Pikeys

2009-08-18T07:26:00.000-07:00

A few days off does the world of good, millions of things sorted out, millions of jobs done. Even got chance for a bit of mountain biking along the canal towpaths of the Grand Union and Stratford-upon-Avon canals. I'd forgotten how nice that could be, I just need to remember a water bottle or my rucksack bladder next time, dehydration...not a good thing.

Barge people, the pikeys of the waterways, they seem to come in certain categories.
1) The arsey local 'get orf moi land' type, not a good word to say about anyone else on the towpaths and canals, especially someone hurtling past them at great rates of speed, anglers...well they might as well be dressed in a balaclava and black clothing, potential burglars the lot of us. Red faced, always full of cider.

2) Divorcees. Mostly men, split up, lost the house, a narrow boat was a cheap form of a home as the Mrs had run off with the family fortune and the milkman. Narrow boats turned into floating love nests/bachelor pads..."hey babe, fancy coming back to my boat, it's the Ferrari of the waterways...does 6mph!!!"

3) The 'must have accessory' people. A narrow boat is the ultimate accessory to have on a sunny summers day, drink a glass of wine, visit the pubs on the towpath, sunbath on the roof. If only they could learn how to start the bloody thing.

I have to say most of the narrow boat community I rode past seemed to fall into the last two categories. All very friendly, virtually everyone said "hello" or asked me where I was heading, apart from one or two who told me I should have a license to cycle on the towpath, I produced one, and then was told I still shouldn't be cycling on them..."call the police, you know which way I'm heading!!"...and I would carry on with the mumblings of profanities in my ears.
Strangely the nicest people you pass are the people whose houses back on to the canal. In the space of my two and a half hour one way trip (got a lift back home) I was offered a burger tow or three times by Kingswood Junction, nice one, but a beer/drink would of been better.

It was a really pleasant day out, may even try to make it to Stratford-upon-Avon if the weather keeps up but that may be asking a bit too much. I said to my better half that I would through my mountain bike in the rear luggage carriage on the train for the return journey from Stratford, she asked me when was the last time I had travelled in the luggage carriage of a train....how times have changed.

Swindlers List

2009-08-14T05:08:00.000-07:00

Weekends are a time for relaxation, unwind, eject work and all its hassles from the brain cells, chill -out, sleep, right......wrong!

Clean bike, minor maintenance and take photos of bike for selling
Cut lawns (evil job...I get hayfever)
Clean patio with power cleaner
Clean and re-pack camping gear.
Couple of maintenance jobs on car
Buy and fit inner tubes, new handlebars and possibly new brake pads for mountain bike
Visit parents
Restock ipod completely (getting bored with same tunes riding to work, all 600 them)
Open ebay seller account
Washing
admin for upcoming event

Toooooooooooo much, I need to swindle some time out amongst that list, I might just get time to watch the MotoGP on Sunday if I'm lucky (go Rossi!). It's not often I pray for rain but seeing as this weekend I'm not living under canvas, this is one of them. But this all could be to do with the fact that I have got a bit of a hangover...John Smiths smooth flow...it is an evil brew.

Have a great weekend

The love of my life is going

2009-08-13T05:09:00.000-07:00

Busy times in the ordinary household. Decided to sell my motorcycle of ten years and now ruin myself with an off-road bike. I was still pretty good at dirt bike riding the last time I seriously tried a couple of years back and I'm probably in better shape now than I was then, so the exertions involved should not be a problem, but will the injuries (and there will be plenty) heal as quick...I think not. But hey-ho, just have to try.

So the bike is slowly going up on various websites and in a few papers and hopefully someone will buy it for the price I want and treat it with the same loving polishing mop that I did...and there lies the problem.
No summer...no riding. No one wants to ride a motorcycle in the rain, regardless of how much the hardcore bikers will go on about it.."yeah, its pissing down, think I'll go for a ride on my bike"...rubbish, it doesn't happen. My bike has done may a thousand miles this year and probably the same last year, mainly because once I've spent a week cleaning it so it sparkles I don't want to ride it in anything but glorious sunshine, you don't have that problem on a dirt bike, they only look good caked in mud. The perfect tool for a British summer.

I'll be sad to see the bike go, it's taken me around Europe, motorcycles are so much more intimate than a car, your in the scene not looking out of a car window at it. It's allowed me to meet people over the last decade that I now class as very close friends without even a mention of bikes anymore, once people you met just to go riding with, now the closest of buddies.
But its time to move on, I've spent the last ten years tearing up the roads of Britain and Europe, I'm now likely to spending the next ten doing the same to green lanes, fields and trails.
The only bad point is the police now use off-road bikes themselves...is there no sanctuary from the long arm of the law.

Lads night out tonight, more obscure named real ale to try, will it it give me a hangover, will it not..life's tough questions.

"Me got big wigwam"

2009-08-11T07:25:00.000-07:00

That was one of the quotes I was greeted with by one of my neighbours on the campsite in Newquay. "Aaahhhh, it must be 'care in the community' week here" was my first thought, but was relieved when the sight of the porch of his tent full of empty wine bottles assured me us that he was just...er...wobbly. His wigwam wasn't big and neither was something else according to his equally sozzled Mrs at 2.30am on Saturday morning....he really did like his wine.

The weather when we arrived was 'scorchio', 23 degrees, positively Caribbean compared to what we've had thrown at us recently. Tent was up, kitted out and the kettle whistling within an hour. Home from home. The only task I left to my better half was the cups and saucers and the sleeping gear (sleeping bags and pillows). The pillows...a great success, the sleeping bags...er!
It is summer, granted, but this is a strange English summer and 1 - 2 season sleeping bags are made for indoor slumber parties, not outdoor under a bit of state of the art nylon.

After a day of going gently red with sunburn, we made our way to the legendary 'leadbellys' in Newquay for a great 'Levellers' type tribute band, supped the local Skinners ale and once our thirst was quenched (drowned) retired back to our 'mobile' home for the night.

Unfortunately the temperature had dropped to 7 degrees and while I met up with the sandman within seconds, my better half proceeded to "get frostbite". Too stubborn to wake me up and say she was cold, mainly as made a comment that these might not be up to the task, she shivered her way through the night, before admitting defeat at 7.30am the next morning. By that time the sun had heated the tent up and a blurry eyed me wondered what all the fuss was about. Next stop local camping shop for 3 season bag...her lesson learned.

After the sleeping bag problem was solved the whole trip went brilliantly, the better half even admitting that she'd had a great time and wanted to camp again soon but we just needed a couple more thing to make it perfect...my suggestion of an 'au pair' was dismissed in favour of a wind-break and bigger cooker. One look around the campsite also suggested that you could go too far, turn your tent into a house and all its contents...and how stressful is moving house...I rest my case.
But is was a great success, the campsite was great and the weather helped...unless you arrived on Saturday for the surf competition too find the waves 1 foot high and the contest over and done with a day before.

Next stops, the Loire Valley and the Milau bridge...then Murcia, then Italy, then Africa...but probably Woolacombe, Devon.

R.I.P Chanelle Sasha Jones. I thought I knew your Dad, maybe I didn't.

Yeeehaaah!

2009-08-05T23:54:00.000-07:00

If SkyNews's weather presenters, the lovely Lucy Verasamy and probably equally lovely, from a womens point of view, Francis Wilson have got their homework right, this weekend looks like being a good 'un. Looks like we've chosen one of the few good weekends of the year for the camping trip. My one bad gut feeling is that everyone else capable of banging in a tent peg, lifting a suitcase into the back of a car or attaching that hell of all inventions, a caravan, to the back of their car will have the same idea. The road to hell beckons.

I've already started to have nightmares, last nights one was about being stuck for hours on end on the M5 at Bristol, the British Caravan Club had their annual general meeting on the M5 bridge over the River Avon...and the police were on their side!! Arresting motorists who dared to try to get past them, shooting those who verbally abused them (don't know why, caravaners must get used to that one!!) until they had finished their jamboree the following Monday...nightmare, I woke up screaming.

I remember getting stuck, earlier in the year, behind a caravan all the way from Barmouth in Wales, all the way back to the English border, the queue behind him even got a mention on the traffic news. When we finally got to the dual carriageway, I gave him the usual 'pleasantries' and applicable hand signals and he replied " we are human beings as well you know"...debatable. I think he'd run out of witty and cutting replies, I was about 20th in the queue behind him
I'm against gun ownership but for the execution of caravan owners I will make an exception.

Well our living room is now full of camping gear, the tent will be better equipped than our house but anything for a quite life and the small comforts will keep her indoors happy. It's going to be an interesting weekend, a laugh for me, a challenge for her. If I'm back on here before Tuesday...we're divorced.

Not quite Ray Mears...

2009-08-04T23:57:00.000-07:00

...but well on the way. The trip to the 'outdoors' shop was a success. Only came out with what I needed...almost. Bought a couple of those ' ready meal in a bag' things that you need when touring outer Mongolia, Siberia and Newquay, mainly out of curiosity about what chicken casserole and spotted dick with custard actually tastes like in a bag, but mostly so I've got something to eat when I get back to my tent with the munchies after a night the pub, crisps just don't seem to cut it anymore.
I've e-mailed my uncle and aunt who live not to far from the campsite to see if they will do a 'reccie' and walk their dog onto the site to see how it's fairing with this weather. More worrying is the reports I'm seeing on 'TripAdviser', "don't eat at the fish and chip bar", "costs a fortune to use the pool", "entertainment consists of Britain's Got Talent first round rejects" but more worryingly "the beers flat and is extortionate!"...disaster. This is supposed to be Newquay's premier campsite. Paying outrageous hotel prices now seems not so bad...er...on second thoughts yes it does (£500 for 3 nights in a run down 3 star...i don't think so).
Luckily we are using the site purely as a base and entertainment and nutrition will be sought off site, just as well. If all goes wrong my Uncle and Aunt just up the road will be called into action...although I haven't told them yet.

Tonight our living room is going to look like a pre-Everest expedition, double check we've got everything then pack it. Can't do it tomorrow as it's 'lads night out' and if I sort it out then you can guarantee I will forget the tent. How I yearn for the simplicities of travelling around Europe on my motorcycle, why is it less complicated to go further on two wheels than just down the road on four???...I've just answered that question and she's not coming next time!!!

If your in Newquay, lots to see and do this weekend even if your not into surfing, check out the link below...and if the night time entertainment on that list doesn't float your boat (or tent if the weather forecasters get it wrong), then there's always Leadbelly's, my new favourite bar in Newquay.

The Boardmasters 2009

http://www.relentlessboardmasters.com/

Leadbelly's, Newquay.

http://www.beerintheevening.com/pubs/s/34/3482/Leadbellys/Newquay

Don't Panic! Don't Panic!

2009-08-04T01:57:00.000-07:00

Corporal Jones would be proud. You know when you get that feeling that all of a sudden time has ran out and you've been caught on the hop. The camping event of the year happens on Friday and last night I let out an loud "aaaaahhhhhh" as I realised there's a million (well about 10) things I've forgotten to do. Extra groundsheets, cooker, waterproofer for tent, fold-out table and chair set that folds back into its own case, small pillows, torches, mallet and bucket(!) and there's probably more, I should of made a list. Add to that that I've suddenly also thought about clothes I need that have to be washed, mainly shorts, no point in wearing jeans/long trousers when your wading through mud, wet grass and puddles...probably, given up on the sun already.

So its off to the outdoor shop tonight and while I'm determined to keep it as basic as I can, as soon as I get there I'll be suckered into the 'you can't possibly go camping without this accessory' department. I remember watching Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman on their first (and best) of their motorcycle adventures 'The Long Way Round' and watching them load up their BMW R1150GS bikes with all manner of stuff that they "would not survive without" like battery operated toe-clippers, then wondering why they got bogged down in the first decent puddle! Still excellent 'Boys Own' stuff though. I'm just jealous. Iused to go on holiday on my motorbike with some mates when I was younger (a lot younger) for week with just a sleeping bag, used bus shelters for hotels, en-suite was if there was a public toilet next to it, room with a view was sleeping in the dodgems at Barmouth on the sea front. Ewan, Charley...you haven't lived.

So tomorrow expect tales of being told to go back to the shop and get a refund on the petrol operated sheep shearers and trampoline that the salesperson told me was absolutely necessary for camping in Cornwall. Hope they sell canoes.

Men in Frocks

2009-08-02T23:53:00.000-07:00

Well the Saturday night in Walsall went down fantastically, the drag artist was exceptional, the beer was excellent (Banks'...can't really go wrong). The bar was an old pub that has had some serous work done without taking away too much of its character, one of those that you walk through the door and hit your chest on the bar immediately, small enough to get an atmosphere at night with only a small amount of people there. As it was the clientele was mostly gay couples, singles but a fair amount of straight people, girlies on the town, bit of mix really, even I got a couple of smiles, out did my better half for once, would preferred it if they were women though.

You knew this bar was slightly different when some guys came in early on in the most Las Vegas of Las Vegas dresses, long, flowing and sparkly, my better half was a gasp and extremely jealous " ask him where he gets his dresses?" she asked me, "probably better if you ask!" I replied and ran off before she bribed me with drink. As it was she bottled it and carried on dancing. Great night great bar, will definitely go again.

Also this weekend had a practice at putting the tent up for our planned expedition to the Relentless Boardmasters in Newquay this coming weekend. It was touch and go whether we would be able to try but the rain kept off just enough for us to have a go on the front lawn. At least it kept the neighbours entertained, just got to get a couple more home comforts (cooker for tea/coffee/bacon sarnies in the morning) and were ready. You just know this weekend is going to be the wettest on record. Reports from the campsite I've seen is that on the caravan/motorhome parts its a mud bath from dragging the caravans back and forth, hopefully the camping part will be better. I've got the local travelodge number ready just in case.
This is my better halfs first serous camping adventure, not Everest base camp in anyones opinion, but for her it might as well be. Must remember to pack the earplugs!!!

The Red Lion, Walsall, top pub.

http://www.beerintheevening.com/pubs/s/34/34870/Red_Lion/Walsall

Tattoos and Bubblegum

2009-07-30T23:56:00.000-07:00

Well the garage looks like a showroom...sort of, I did an 'OK' job before becoming a bit distracted to say the least. Half way through the cosmic cleaning I stopped for a cup of tea and a read of the local newspaper. Low and behold a tattoo shop has opened up in Solihull centre, looks good and professional too, not one of your 'scratch and run' joints that seem to be popping up all over the place at the moment. So I decided to hurriedly finish the real job of the day and run into town to check this new studio out.

I love tattoos, some people see them as a desecration of the body, disfigurement, not me. To me it's an art form. Yes sure, you do get the dodgey artists out there who end up ruining peoples lives with awfully done tattoos, but then these same backstreet tattooists more often than not are also the ones responsible for the 'BCFC' (Birmingham City Football Club) tattoos on the forehead brigade that you see in ever increasing numbers unfortunately, sad!

Do your homework, visit the studio, have a look around, look at the tattoo's that the artist has previously done, not the 'flash' pictures and drawings on the walls, hit the t'internet and find out how good they actually are. easy really. The good artists don't do 'BCFC' tattoos.

I already have an extensive collection, including my first smilie face tattooed knee-cap at school to my last dragon on a shoulder blade a couple of years ago. It all started when as a kid you used to be able to buy bubblegum with tattoos in the packets. Soak them in water and stick them on your arms. I used to be completely covered in them for most of my young years. My parents really should of seen what what was coming.

My first 'real' tattoo was when I was 18. A large dragon on my right upper arm by a local Birmingham artist Micky Sharpz. Hes been retired a number of years now, still making his much sort after 'irons' (the tattooing guns) and equipment and is still held in incredibly high esteem today. I found that out when I recently went to have the dragon re-coloured at a Studio in Newquay and as soon as I took my T shirt off to show the artist exactly what I wanted the artist said "aahh, Micky Sharpz, classic, hope you not going to go over it?". Not a chance, it was recoloured, brought back to life and looks like it did almost 30 years ago.
Yesterday, the artist at the new local studio was brilliant all you could ask for. Listened to my suggestions for my full Japanese style sleeves (incorporating my dragons) and bettered them with ideas from photographs of his work and after what seemed an age, came the picture of what I've wanted since I was a kid.
It's going to be an interesting and at times very painful journey, one which over the time it occurs will be covered in here.

Happy Tattoo bubblegum...gets you inked for life

This weekend it's try and pitch the tent before next weekends trip to Cornwall (more of that later) then off to watch a drag artist on Saturday in Walsall....should be interesting!!!

Have a great and hopefully rain free (please!!) weekend.

Cosmic Ordering the Garage

2009-07-28T23:48:00.000-07:00

Wahaay!! Got some days off for general household 'cosmic ordering' (copyright D.Parkin) but mainly my garage (maybe some real household stuff...maybe). Horrible to think of now, but it will be great once I get started. While my motorcycle is my pride and joy and kept in A1 condition know matter what it takes, its home is not so good, but it is my sanctuary, when things get to me or I'm having a bad day, it's out to the garage to 'tinker' with my bikes, motor and mountain. So it's time to spring clean my safe house.
I always wanted one of those garages you see in some motoring/bike magazines where there is a guy sitting on a sofa in a carpeted garage, the top of the range snap-on tool chests covering one end on the garage, beer fridge (fully stocked), TV, radio, heaters for the winter. As it is it's a pile of assorted old rusty toolboxes, spare parts, swapped parts, broken parts all over the place, not good, desperately in need of 'cosmic ordering'. I just hope for this job I don't end up ordering a 'cosmic skip' for all the rubbish. Got this picture of one of the band members from Hawkwind delivering my cosmic skip...never mind.

So tomorrow, its bin-bags, boxes and countless trips to the local tip. It will be worth it and I'll be at Halfords ordering new shelves, new sparkly toolboxes and tools to go in them and the garage will look great, Orange County Choppers, eat your heart out. But unfortunately the first time I have a major job on my bike, the parts won't fit, the skin is removed from my knuckles, tools, cleaning equipment and my patience strewn all over the place it will be back to normal. Just finish the job and out on the bike to calm down, clean up later..probably. I'll do it, next week, next month, next year. Strange I can always find things when there not organised, only one in my house that can...must be a man thing

Still..it does mean another day off in a couple of months. TTFN.

Dave

2009-07-28T01:57:00.000-07:00

Not a person, a TV channel, one that when any other occupier of our household walks into the house while I'm chilling with the mug of tea/chocolate biscuits for 5 minutes (honest) in front of the TV always seems to make them say "not Dave again, is there no other channel on there now?? The answer is NO, well except SkyNews if some really interesting news is breaking and they've thrown all their airtime at it..."Big news just coming into us... Ronaldo's humping Paris Hilton!", you know, things that matter to the world.

Dave has it all, Top Gear, Mock of the Week, Michael Palin, Ray Mears, The Fast Show, it goes on and on (and on and on according to the better half), all stuff I've seen a million times and want to see a million times again, brilliant blokey stuff and to top it all tonight...The Red Bull X-Fighters, it can't get any better

Red Bull X-Fighters chief nutter Robbie Maddison doing his job!

This is what I've tried to be like in the past many years ago, not the X-Fighters, they where still being pushed around in prams (probably while Mum was doing wheelies with it), more Evil Knievel, Eddie Kidd. I wanted to ride a dirt bike like this so bad I bought the bike guaranteed to do it for me, the Yamaha XT500 (below). Brutal to kick start (no electric start comforts here), I still carry the dinks in my right shin bone today with the times I got it wrong.
But within no time I really was like Evel Knievel, rubbish at jumping and crashed a lot...but I could do a decent wheelie, just enough to impress the local schoolgirls coming out of Light Hall school and the ladies of the Stero Electrical factory just a bit further down the road. I met one of young ladies a few years later.."you where that bloke that used to pull wheelies on his motorbike past us at the bus stop at night when we'd finished work weren't you?".."yes!"..."you where rubbish!" . But it did work because I went out with her for a couple of years..before she disappeared with a bloke on a big Kawasaki. My next bike was a big Kawasaki!!

A Yamaha XT500, excellent at wheelies, rubbish at pulling the opposite sex...at bus stops

Tonight on 'Dave', see how its done properly, if you can't get DAVE, click on the link below...don't try this at home kids

http://www.redbullxfighters.com/

He's not real!

2009-07-26T23:41:00.000-07:00

Busy, busy weekend really was busy, busy. Major gardening on Saturday (rather have swine flu!) followed by the excellent Kevin Paul as Elvis on Saturday night. A top show by an excellent performer. But for me the top entertainment of the night was the audience. While many there enjoyed it for exactly what it was, pure fun, there where those to whom this was a more 'spiritual' event. Ladies (and one or two gents) clad in Elvis T-shirts, genuinely blubbing when he was handing out the roses and the sweat soaked scarfs. Myself and a buddy of mine who were watching with our better half's were also crying...with laughter, but were immediately and tersely brought to task by a women ( I presume she/it was female) standing next to us with a "it means something to them, they love Elvis" (love -15)..." but its Kev!" retorted my friend (15-all) "to them its Elvis" she replied (15-30), " but he's dead!" replied friend (30-all), "No, tonight he is alive, just for us" (30-40), "can't be the real one, I saw in in the bog and he wasn't flat on his face" (40-all) serves , game set and match). Then we pointed out that two of her tattoo's were spelt incorrectly (game, set and match)...classy woman.

But even Elvis gets flustered. A large lady (large, possible use of huge use of understatement there) climbs the stairs and mops her chest, his brow and drapes an equally large pair of knickers on the sweaty and distinctly scared Elvis and on her way down the steps turned and gave him a "you know where to find me" looks. Elvis was definitely 'all shook up' and on the point of throwing up.
Strangely it the quickest stage exit I've ever seen Kevin do, normal hangs around for everyone to have their photos taken with him, not this time, can't understand why.

Viva Las Vegas.

No sleep 'till Erdington

2009-07-23T23:37:00.000-07:00

Busy, busy weekend coming up. In no particular order:

1) Wake up
2) Visit parents

3) clean house/dry clean furniture.

4) Overhaul garden

5) Motorcycle maintenance then test ride...to Wales (any excuse).

6) Elvis!

7) sleep.

Yep, did say Elvis. The man himself is performing in Erdingtion, Birmingham on Saturday night, honest...he lives. After popping his clogs on the toilet he became a graphic designer. He used to work with a friend of mine for the Yellow Pages in Birmingham City centre, it's true, this isn't the made up stuff you read in the 'Sunday Sport' you know. He also became a secret Motorhead fan, I know, I stood next to him at the Birmingham Carling Academy...its almost unbelievable. So next time you visit Gracelands and look onto his grave. Remember.....he ain't there, he's over here and putting on a brilliant show. Elvis never came to Britain!!.....don't you believe it.

The real Elvis....but it could be Kevin Paul

http://www.kevinpaul-elvis.co.uk/

Have a great weekend.....me, I'll be 'all shook up'

The Wanderer Returns

2009-07-22T05:28:00.000-07:00

A mate of mine, Keith, is back in town for a few days on what seems his bid to make Michael Palin's world tours seem like a trip down to the shops. Last met him before he made his way to Ontario with his long suffering wife to 'begin again'. It became apparent they he could not settle and seemed to hang around one city, drink it (literally) for all it had to offer and move on. Had a message on my 'myface' or was it 'spacebook' recently that said...

"How you doing, In Pennsylvania at the moment, know wonder Dracula left..it's boring"

"I'll think you'll find it was Transylvania, Keith"

"yeah, yeah (rolls eyes) next you'll be telling me Hitler wasn't born in Australia!!"

I've know him for many years since he became a member of my motorcycles owners club. A hard drinking Scotsman, who owns a cake making company while he lived in London. I got to know him really well when the French arm of our motorcycle owners club had their annual rally in Clerment Ferrand some years ago

Still the only married man I know who, after his wife had seen the credit card statement which gave away the fact that on a 'business trip' in London wobbled into a strip club, and bought the ladies of the club bottles of champagne at £100 a bottle all night, who got away with it...how!!!

His wife is Malaysian and in order to marry her he had to convert is Islam in accordance of her fathers wishes, not a problem for Keith, try anything once.
I remember telling me about his conversion and the fact that his Islamic name 'Zidane' came about when he was watching France play England and decided that his original choice 'Beckham' wasn't really a good name for a Muslim.
He also said that when you become a Muslim all your sins from your previous existence disappears, you are clean, free of all sin.....said it lasted 20 minutes until he caught an usher nicking his pint...stealing a Scotsman's beer...some people really should know better.

Lads night out tonight which is always good fun but fed up with walking to or from, or both, from the pub in the rain. Fed up with not being able to stand outside with my pint because of the rain. Fed up of rain. I see I've been read by someone in Australia, bet he/she's thinking "fed up of going to the pub in the sun, not being able to stand outside with my pint (tube) because of the sun. Fed up of sun" hahaha, yeah right.

This is one small step for man

2009-07-21T07:22:00.000-07:00

...one giant leap for mankind. Yep, Neil Armstrong mucked up his most historic line at the most historic time. But I suppose he'd got other things on his mind, like "did I change my nappy before I put my space suit on???" Yep, he had one of those too, I wonder if he had to lie on his back while Buzz Aldrin changed it for him. But for all his sins, there was a very interesting programme on BBC4 on Monday night about a BBC reporter trying to make contact with him, really gripping TV considering the main man in the programme wasn't technically ever in in it, and to be honest with people like his barber keeping his hair and selling it you can see why NA got fed up with the public and became the recluse he is now, I feel sorry for him.

But where were you when he jumped of the LAM and onto the moon? Me, drifting in and out of consciousness on the sofa as my Dad kept shouting over to me" here he is!!...here he is!!". I didn't give a damn about the moon landings at that moment. Earlier in the night I had been performing at my Junior schools end of term play, had been for a week or so actually, but that night they put the school television up in the 'waiting room' (yes it was really that posh a school), so we could watch them walk, great, but all we saw was the same picture of one side of the lunar module, no astronauts...nothing (but who was holding the camera?..aahhaa!). Two hours of that, a quick adrenaline rush as I did my bit on stage in front of about 10 people, I seem to remember vaguely, yes all the parents demoted their offspring to second place behind the moon landings, and I'd had it. Home to hot milk, cookies and bed and a fuzzy memory of a chunky white man shaped thing stumbling about on a grey, black and white planet and my dad shouting his commentary over at a semi-conscious, not very interested me.

I did actually get hooked on the space thing, can still recite every Apollo, its crew and lunar module/capsule names off the top of my head. But talking to my Dad on the phone the other night he was all very excited about his memories of that July in '69 and asked me If I remembered watching the moon landings.."No, I was seven, do you remember Churchill's 'we will fight them on the beachs' speech?"....click.

Big Boys Toys

2009-07-21T02:05:00.000-07:00

well not actually, they belonged to little Joel who's birthday party we went to last night. Loads of prezzies, loads of new toys. His existing boxes of house toys, slides swings, play houses etc are all outiside (better than Alton towers I kid you not) seem to be mostly cars, trains sets etc that he has inherited from big (10 year old) brother, which Joel obviously loves with a passion. But...put a group of 30/40/50 year old men in the same room as these wonderful toys and watch said males reduce themselves to a bunch of squabbling kids.

First starts the reminiscing, "...got a genuine first issue Captain Scarlet SPV vehicle in the loft, worth a fortune", next follows..ahh, but, I've got a Thunderbird 2 with the Thunderbird 4 still in the pod"..lots off ooohs and aahhhs at that one. I tried to trump them with " well, somewhere in my Dads loft is a UFO interceptor, still complete with nose missile", I shouldn't of bothered, seems 'UFO' was Gerry Andersons bastard child that should of been sent to the workhouse. Well that chat went on, slowly getting louder and louder, James Bond Aston with the bloke shooting out the roof, first edition Star Wars Tie fighters, graduating onto mark one Chopper bikes (round knob as a gear stick, oh yeah!) etc etc all getting out of hand, the little ones at 2 years old had decided we were sad (we were) and had gone outside with the despondant mums to play on the slides and see-saws.

Got any of these...worth a fortune (in a box!)

Then just as everyone was bursting at the seams with ideas of what they were going to buy with the proceeds, Bugatti Veyrons, yachts, new washing machine (kidding) from the sales of the valuable antique toys, a Granny piped up that they were all worthless unless in decent condition and this was the knock-out punch " in a box".

As calm and sense decended back in the living room and Friday night to gather all our treasures, inspect them, put them on ebay and open Swiss bank accounts was cancelled because as kids we hadn't cherished them as profits of the future, we'd played with them and smashed them to pieces...just like the real thing we watched on telly all them years ago. But I'm still going on ebay this afternoon because I still want Captain Scarlets SPV and a Johnny Seven..and if you don't know what one of those is...well you haven't lived...well not in my road 35 years ago.

A 'Johnny Seven' by the way

Neil the Mormon...Top bloke

2009-07-19T23:48:00.000-07:00

I've already written about my relationship with the door to door salesmen (and women) of the religious type in prevoius blogs and attempts, while not trying to stop them practising their arts so to speak, just give me a wide berth.

Well news on the local front is that there seems to have been a 'turf war', the Jehovahs witness's seem to have been run out of town, not a sighting of one for what must have been a year. Now there is a new king on the block, the salesmen of the church of the latter day saints, or to us children of the Osmonds era, the Mormons. But this time they mean business...they've got wheels.

I've seen them hurtling around the local area, white short sleeve shirts (even in the winter, hardcore!), charcoal grey trousers, rucksacks, cycling helmet and aboard mountain/hybrid push bikes, pedaling like Lance Armstrong, on a mission..literally.

I had an afternoon off work on Friday and while chilling with a cup of tea and chocolate digestives, the door bell goes, I open the door and there in front of me, teeth gleaming in the rare sunshine of late are two of our white shirted, pedal biking friends.

Right, 'so...do you know Jimmy Osmond?' catchphrase at the ready, I open the door and they politely introduce themselves Hi, I'm Freddie and this is Neil and we're in the area today wondering on how you yourself see the future and if you feel that you need help from......, by this time his words had faded into silence as I looked down from his gaze on to the bike that his very silent friend was proping up and within seconds I had brought the sermon to a shuddering halt.

"Giant XTC Advanced...s**t, great bike, looks like ts been put to good use". Silent Neil, who looked every part the apprentice, sits quietly, learning from the master (grasshopper!), shot a grin like a chesire cat across his face and opened up...
"yeah, I go cross country and down hilling, every chance, got this through the church". WOW, top of the range mountain bikes for becoming a door to door preacher, almost pondered joining up for afew nano-seconds.
Montain bike terminology and tales went back and forth for a good few minutes, Freddie now becoming obviously irate that the teachings of the lord were now coming second place to getting covered in mud on a sunday afternoon. I did notice that and carried on to wind him up more before he literally shouted above us "so do you think you will consider anything we've spoken about today...."yep, flog my bike and get a Giant XTC", to which Freddie (just Fred will do mate, Freddie sounds so....well you know, I blame Fintoff) turn to Neil and gave him the signal that they were done here to which Neils grin disappeared and they turned a left, Neil turning and giving me the thumbs up half way up the path.

I hope Neil does well and finds what he is looking for in a U2 sort of way, seemed a really decent guy. A friend over the weekend told me that these guys donate 10% of there day job wages to the church, which makes Neils bike horrendously overpriced by about a million pounds(...ish) and promptly severes any slenderest of slender ties that came from our paths crossing. Shame it was a cracking bike.

The happiest Birthday ever to Joel today, 2 years old and with all the trauma and tragedy of the past six months that was almost too much for many adults to handle let alone a young boy I hope its the best party in the world. Save us some cake little 'un, see you later.

http://www.birminghampost.net/news/west-midlands-news/2009/01/03/married-couple-amongst-dead-in-staffordshire-air-crash-65233-22600124/

Fake ID's and sheepdog bra's

2009-07-16T23:51:00.000-07:00

...is all it takes to get past the smiling doorman. It was the usual Thursday lads night out last night and as the weather was so apalling (again Lucy!!, see post yesterdays postfor details) we decided to stop in the starting point pub instead of making our way around every hostilery in town. People watching is a great pastime, in a pub its even better, watching peoples personalities change, the quite become loud, the shy become brash, the old go the the toilet a lot. But the main topic last night..."how old are they?, is the doorman blind"...said quietly in case he heard us and threw us out into the rain, but we seem to be shouting it a lot of late.

The fun is watching these kids, one group in particular last night, completely underage (proof later), celebrate like premership footballers after scoring a goal when they succesfully get past the doorman then, when in sight of the holy grail (the bar) started stuttering and become nervous, mainly because Sarah, the owner of the bar has clocked them and they know they are in for a second grilling. They've already decided who looks the oldest and who's going to order the drinks and sure enough we guessed right which one it would be. Tall, make-up applied by a plasterer, and a chest like Yull Bryner and Tele Savalas fighting in a sack. "Can I see your ID's" says Sarah, "We've already shown them to the doorman" says leggy teenager.."he's old and blind" replies Sarah (confirms our theory!), leggy teenager hands-over ID..."23 eh!, you look good for 23", howls of laughter can be heard coming from our direction, which stop instantly when we are given that 'you'll be waiting a lot longer to be served next time' look.

But said leggy teenager and mates are allowed to proceed with their night out and two hours later one is carried out, throwing up on the doorman on the way, to loud applause and someone shouting " she'd better be sober in the morning, she delivers my paper!!".

The best was saved for last when the wife of one of our drinking party arrived to give him a lift home. On walking towards us she spotted one of the same leggy teenagers friends and inflicted the ultimate torture. "Hello Samantha, how are you, just seen your Mum, she said you'd gone to a slumber party round at a friends house for the night"...teenager now looking a bit worried, the wife shouts over to husband across the pub..."Mark, this is Samantha, you know, in our Rob's class at school, you know, came to his sixteenth birthday party at our house in May!" Six pairs of teenage eyes dart towards the bar and Landlady Sarah, too late shes got better hearing than we gave her credit for, the bouncer has already arrived and the girls are escorted out to another raptuous ovation, wolf whistles and the usual paper round jibes and just for a parting shot Marks wife shouts after embarrased teenager " see you, Sam, say Hi to you Mum for me", then turns to us and with a vicious sneer and spits "that'll teach the little sod for throwing up on my carpet."

Lessons learned:
1) Don't crtisise the beer in the pub when Sarah the landaldy is within 100 yards
2) Don't ever mess with Marks wife
3) Don't throw up in his house
4) Don't believe my sixteen year old when she says shes got a slumber party.

Have a great weekend.

Don't blame it on the Sunshine...

2009-07-15T23:25:00.000-07:00

.....blame it on the weather presenters. Well there goes my 'Jacko free zone' promise to myself. It was only a few weeks ago when we were going through the 'heatwave', or as we used to called it in the old days 'a week of sunny days', and the weather forecasters warning of heatstroke sunburn, the water companies jumping on the bandwagon, as they do if you get three dry days or more in a row, of water shortages and the government issuing recomendations of what to do if you get warm....we know Gordon!!!
Well that was then. Lately I have found myself cursing the weather presenters every morning, noon and night. As a keen cyclist (mountain biker to be precise) I use my bike almost every day for work and every chance I can get in my spare time. It also means I'm glued to the TV most mornings to get the weather forecast. Most evenings of late the better half has had to put up with me moaning, swearing, cursing the day that these presenters were born the moment I walk in the door, "Sunny, periods, cloudy but dry, how many satellites have they got up there?", as I'm standing in the hallway dripping wet, I know its not them, the presenters, its the forecasters, the drunks at the Met Office, they must be drunk its the only excuse I can think of for getting the weather constantly wrong.

I have always thought weather presenters should be on performance related pay. Can you imagine the TV news it would be great..." we'll now it's over to Lucy Verasamy with the weather, where are you today Lucy?"..."Thank you Eamonn, well this morning I'm speaking to you from under this canal bridge where I've had to spend the night covered in newspaper as I'm no good at predicting the weather, and the landlord has thrown me out for not paying the rent". Justice. I don't feel so bad about the presenter/forcaster thing now as I've just been told that most presenters, especially on the BBC are Met Office employees.....they are as guilty as their masters. Sorry Lucy.

But it's supposed to be nice today, according to SkyNews, floods in the afternoon according to the BBC. It's even more crucial today as I've booked some of the day of work for a bit of motorcycle maintainance, I wondered why the better half asked me which draw my earplugs were in.

A talent lost.

2009-07-15T00:00:00.000-07:00

Take a look this portrait, its a self-portrait, by a talented young, 18 year old, up and coming local artist from Castle Bromwich, not a million miles from where I live. A talent that when fully matured would bring to us all, inspired or captivated by the painting, so much pleasure in the future. I find this painting captivating, those eyes, you can stare at this image for hours on end, to me it represents what art is all about.

The tragedy is that the artist is no longer with us. Rifleman James Murphy of the 2nd Battalion, The Rifles, aged 18 years old, was killed last Friday in Sangin, Helmond Province, Afghanistan by a secondary bomb, while trying to carry to safety a wounded member of his battalion that had been caught in an initial explosion who also died at the same time as James. He died what he loved doing, he died helping his brother in arms. Any loss of life is a tragedy, to me this one more so. What would he have painted when he had returned home, what did those eyes see...I do not want to even imagine.

But we probably would not have had to imagine, he's visions would of been put onto canvas for all to see and we would of been captivated. His family have every right to be proud. Out of war have come some of the great artists, great writers, great poets..it seems that we have been robbed of this one.

Tragedy, can't stop typing that word,...there is no other word for it. My thoughts are with his family and friends.

So where do you plug the hairdryer??

2009-07-13T23:47:00.000-07:00

In a couple of weeks time the budding surf gods (the not quite Kelly Slaters of the Surf world) arrive in the UK for the Relentless Boardmasters surfing competition in Newquay Cornwall. From just a week or two before donning nothing but a rash vest and boardshorts and taking on the mighty thirty foot waves of Teahupo'o on Tahiti or Hawaii's North Shore, they must clad themselves head to foot in neoprene and tackle Fistral beach's frightning six foot monsters...er...thats if we are lucky, two foot will probably be more like it...bet they are quivering in their wetsuits.

Fistral beach, Newquay

Teahupoo, Tahiti...bit of a difference!

Anyway, the competition is the biggest event of the surfing year to hit the UK and Newquay gets its busiest week of the year, holiday makers and surf fans all packed into one little town....big BIG problem.

Newquay is changing, or was changing. Just before the credit crunch many of the hotel owners, including some of the bigger so called better hotels, where selling up their hotels/guest houses to property developers or builders and retiring on the profits..good luck to them.

Along come the bulldozers, down came the hotels, up went the 'surfpods' (tiny, one bedroomed self contained flats to you and me), along came the credit crunch, back went the deposits, down went the sales. Newquay is now full of empty newly built flats, half built developments and no hotel rooms for us punters wanting a holiday or a weekend watching great (or as great as it can get on 2 foot waves) surfing...I know, I spent two days on t'internet and phone trying to get a room..no chance and those that were left were bordering on mafia extortion. So we were left with one alternative........

Camping, I love it, be it a weekend on Shell Island in Wales or hurtling through Europe with the gear strapped on the back of my motorcycle. My better half, well given the choice of all her teeth removed with pliers or a weekends camping then should she'd look on the bright side of how much she'd save in toothpaste.
But she's agreed to give it ago..but with conditions. Out goes my basic camping style (two man mountain tent, sleeping bag and self-inflating mat..thats it lets go!) and in come a few luxuries. Nice campbeds, luxury rectangular sleeping bags, family four berth vis-a-vis tent (one side for sleeping, the other side for shoes), cooker, kettle, plates, cups, lights..might as well have had a hotel room. Plus an out of the way quite campsite overlooking beautiful Cornish scenery....no chance. the biggest caravan and camping park in Newquay, think Butlins without the chalets, because it has every facility going and most importantly its got the 'Loo of the Year Award 2008' from the Caravan club...whats wrong with a hedge!?!? But, she's happy, she's got somewhere to plug her hairdryer at last. I'm praying for sunshine.

Growing Old(er) (Dis)gracefully

2009-07-12T23:54:00.000-07:00

We were invited to a rock club reunion on Saturday night, for all the people that used to drink/party/fall-over in the rock clubs in Birmingham in the late '70s, '80s and '90s. I was a bit uneasy about the thought of bumping into people I haven't seen for many years as some might of been female acquaintances from my past and I would have my better half with me...what on earth would they say..."Hi, how are you...remember our nights of passion with donkeys, midgets and Swarfega ??"...and then being asked by my better half why WE have never used Swarfega!!!. It never happened by the way (probably) but you get my drift.

As it happened it was a great night, great music, a good band (Rattlesnake Kiss) and everyone I did meet that I knew were all great fun...BUT and it is a big BUT...why do people think they can get away with dressing as they did a quarter of a century ago.

Men approaching (or well over in some cases) 50 years old who've clambered into the loft, dragged out the cut-off denim jacket with all the rock band patches sewn on the back, found their 28" waist faded skintight jeans from the same time, polished the cowboy boots, put them on and thought "yeah man, I'm cool! I'm glad I never got rid of the mullet haircut, where's the women?" before finding out that after 3 hours of trying to get into said clothes they now cannot in fact move. But they did, all the way to the club, and they looked ridiculous, and they were serious. I said to one guy "where did you get the fancy dress?" and he looked a bit upset even more so as instead of apologising, I laughed...oh well, can't win 'em all

Unfortunatly the ladies fell into the same trap, what made it worse for them was the fact there where a few younger girls there in next to nothing and thigh length boots that looked amazing which quite visibly knocked their confidence, especially as every man in there had his mobile phone camera trained on them all night...sad eh!,...my photos will be on here as soon as I download them. Should also point out that every 'taken' man in there went home with a red handprint on one side of his face.

I like to think I have grown older gracefully, my mullet went missing a decade and a half ago, probably more to do with nature than want, but its gone. Double denim...shudder, gone long before the mullet. I've kept myself fit and don't have a beer gut of any real discription. I've often wondered how I would compare to people who I knew years ago if I met them now...and the answer is 'a lot better than most'.
There is another reunion night planned for December, they should think about putting Gok Wan, Trinny and Suzanne on the guest list.

Other Stuff From the Weekend

The new Sky Advert featuring Anthony Hopkins quoting one his (and my) favourite movie moments from the film 'Bladerunner' and the 'tears in rain' scene quoted by Rutger Hauer at his point of death. Rutger can be scene strolling past the window as Anthony Hopkins is quoting the lines. Simple and brilliant. Enjoy...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LwCd9kx9Raw

Our young 'un made it to Weymouth successfully, next year Australia.

Detroit- Rock City...Nah, Bingley Hall, Stafford mate

2009-07-10T02:01:00.000-07:00

I have always loved Rock music, any music really (apart from that Jazz stuff where all the musicans sound like they've got different sheets of music), but mostly rock, heavier the better, live, even betterer (is that a word??). My first concert was Gary Glitter at the Birmingham Odeon when I was 10. Strangely any memories of that concert have been put in the recycle bin in my head never to be seen again for some reason, can't think why. But the seeds were sown and loud thumping music was here to stay in my household (bedroom).

The next concert was probably the defining moment in my musical life....The Sweet. Little sisters bought the singles for the A sides, big brothers nicked them for the B sides. Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue sites The Sweet as possibly the biggest influence on his musical career (and he's dating Kat Von D...jealous, me, not one bit....hate him).

But for me the biggest point in my musical adolesence was when someone lent me (or did I steal it?) Black Sabbaths 'Volume 4'. I had arrived. Ticked all the boxes, loud, heavy, they were from Birmingham and my Dad hated them("bloody racket, look at them, bloody scruffy hippies"...and my Dad was a beatles fan!!). I finally got to see them in '77 at Stafford Bingley Hall, someone told me "jeeezzz, your not going to that cowshed to see 'um are you?"...I laughed untill I got there and found it really was a big shed used during the day as a cow market, smelled like it as well, cow dung and patchouli oil...a pungent mix if ever there was one.
Knutz the support group lasted quite well until a amazingly accurate tin of Chequer bitter bounced off the lead singers head renduring him slightly unconscious...one and a half minutes into the first song, not bad, seen worse.
I remember my first sighting of Ozzy Osbourne in the flesh, a shadowing figure climbing onto Bill Wards drum riser in the dark as the orchestral music blasted out, then the still brilliant opening bars of 'Sympton of the Universe' then..boom...thunder flashes galore, ear bleedingly loud and my on going love affair with Ozzy and Sabbath was born. Still in my top three of concerts I've been to in my life (AC/DC, Highway to Hell in '79 and the Rolling Stones, Voodoo Lounge in Paris in '95 the others). So good in fact that the very next day at school, using state of the art Tattoo equipment (compass and black indian ink), Ozzy's smilie faces on his knees were etched forever onto mine. I've been told since that no matter how hard I try I'll always look ridiculous in shorts.

I was desperatly disappointed when I saw Sabbath the next year, they looked tired, Ozzy looked terrible and Van Halen blew them completely off stage, it was the end...the affair was on the rocks. It wasn't until Ozzy strode out at the Birmingham Odeon three years later, Rany Rhodes that he came back to life..the affair was back on.

I've met him a few times, everyone a pleasure, including regaling him on seeing him at Bingley Hall and to my absolute jaw dropping delight instead of saying "thanks" and walking off he started going on about the gig "stunk of s**t, that place, did you know it's used as a cowshed during the day?, better than the Joe Louis arena in Detroit though, have you ever been there?"..."No Ozz!" , 5 minutes that cemented him as my all time hero, done some dubious thing in his life, but I would still sell my kidneys for a concert ticket (their knackered anyway).

Anyway the purpose of todays blog is someone sent me this trailer yesterday, sent shivers up my spine. Anyone want a kidney in exchange for a ticket to the premier next year? You know where to find me.

http://www.wreckageofmypast.com/

Have a great weekend

Betsy the Pig...The New Hitler

2009-07-09T01:24:00.000-07:00

So ask your average man in the street if he was to be locked in a room with one of the two options below, which one do you think they would choose?

A) Betsy the Vietnamese pot bellied pig, pride and joy of Sheldon Country Park, who unfortunatly at the moment has a bit of a temperature and a runny nose.

B) Adolf Hitler and 20 of his most loyal and highly armed Waffen SS stormtroopers, while dressed in a 'Israel forever' T-shirt, doing the 'riverdance ' on a map of Germany while handing out your mamma's best bagles to all who wants them.

I think you'll find it will be 100% option B....let me explain.
Yesterday a work colleague of mine wandered through the shop floor leaving early from his shift. On his way through he explained to all he passed that he had to leave early as his two sons had been diagnosed with swine flu. Now from peoples reactions to this you'd have thought what he actually said was "I've got a hand grenade, I've pulled the pin out...fancy a game of catch?"
Now I have to admit as a lifelong asthmatic I took a step back as a sudden vision of me on SkyNews as "another swine flu death in the West Midlands....victim had an underlying condition" in one of those 'breaking news' banners that pass about an inch below Sky News presenter Lorna Dunkleys impressive bosom...not a bad place to be I hear the chaps out there say, I agree, but I'd rather not be dead to be there.
What really makes me giggle about the swine flu epidemic is the stories of the sheer trauma some of these victims go through while suffering from this terrible illness. Cue Lorna Dunkley..."so what was it like for you in isolation while you had swine flu?" the reply from Kathy in Rochdale...." It was terrible, I had to buy some tissues, stop in all day and sit on the sofa while watching the Corrie omnibus and Loose Women and eating a boxes of chocs for days on end...it was hell!!!"
I want swine flu and I want it now....The Ashes are on!

Our Kid

2009-07-08T06:32:00.000-07:00

"I'm a women"....well not me, my Daughter. She's finished secondary school, on her way to sixth form college and the world is her oyster, well when I say world, it's Weymouth to begin with.
Seems only yesterday a soggy rusk was beeing shoved up a nostril as a sign of affectiion, now I'm lucky if I get a 'later' as she runs through the front door and into the arms of todays' boyfriend.
Not that I'm moaning (much), she's an angel compared to some of the horror stories I hear most days at work, police this, court hearings that and community service...well, who's kids haven't been on it....ours for a start.
Boys...is that all a sixteen year old girl thinks of...can hear a fair few 'YES's coming from out there...except from the lesbian contingent of course. We were at AC/DC concert in London a couple of weeks ago and the first thing she shouted (it was incredibly loud) in my ear was "he's a bit cute".."who?" I replied "Brian Johnson, Angus Young...Johnsons 61, Angus mid-fifties...like the older man eh???"...looks of disgust were glanced my way and a finger was firmly pointed in the direction of a young lad carrying about eight pints of lager followed a firm "HIM!" (round of applause for carrying eight points of lager...I liked him instantly). Ten minutes later she'd got a list as long as her arm of teenage lads she'd run off with tomorrow. Scary.
Anyway,. she's off on her first real solo adventure this weekend, off to see her Grandparents in sunny Weymouth on the south coast. Train tickets booked, route sorted, case packed (well when I say packed, clothes thrown in for Grandma to iron once there). But there still that feeling in the back of my head that says we will get a phone call late on Saturday along the lines of "Edinburgh...is that near Grandma's". But we've got three weeks of glorius quite while she's gone so we're lining up thing to see, places to go, adventures to be had etc etc. Going to be fun.