Mixed feelings

Last night, we went to see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. It was really very good indeed and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I think I ought to be ashamed to admit that because something happened just before we arrived at the cinema which really unnerved me and did not deserve to be ignored or forgotten in the pursuit of our entertainment. About 500 yards from the turning to the leisure complex is a (quite small) roundabout. There was a large articulated lorry parked on one side and two or three cars parked on the other. We couldn’t see what exactly was happening until we arrived at the roundabout. There were a few people standing around on adjoining pavements. Then I saw the body lying in the road on our left. I think it was a man. He was wearing a crash helmet and he wasn’t moving. The most strangely awful thing was to see the people just standing there on the pavement – one man, possibly the lorry driver, was standing next to the lorry, he was in the road – but the man was spreadeagled flat on his back in the middle of the carriageway and nobody was doing anything, just standing there, and he wasn't moving. I will always have that lasting impression. It was like life had gone into slow motion. He is someone’s son, perhaps someone’s father or brother, someone’s friend, lover, teacher, whatever; I hope he’s all right, but I have a horrible feeling about it. I hope I didn’t see a dead body last night.

Dogged blogging

Whether intentional or not, it looks as though I have been led up the garden path by Omally. He well and truly put the wind up me by telling me that, according to Simon, a kitten dies every day you don’t blog. This was followed by a nervous spate of daily blogs, which feverish essayism, I am ashamed to say, lasted just four days. Now, steel yourself for a blood-spattered visit from the Cat God, you may have warned me at the time. Well, the flappableness of the Great Catflap In The Sky was conspicuous by its absence and, to date, all my organs remain intact and inside, mostly not showing at all. However, and you must make up your own mind as to the importance of that ‘however’, in my aim to read all of Simon’s blogs from Day 1 in 2003, I encountered this one (see the end of the first paragraph), which, I am sure you will agree, is indicative of three inescapable scenarios: (1) I am indeed engaged in reading all Simon’s blogs, otherwise I wouldn’t have found the reference to which I have, er, referred, (2) Omally confuses kittens with puppies, and (3) it would appear I have to expect a visit from The God Of Unnecessarily Dead Puppies any day now which will probably result in more of my organs ending up on the outside than would be healthy. Oh well, you can’t have everything. What’s that echoey growling noise?

Food for thought

Me: “Look, this is about the tenth time today I’ve had to dash to the little boys’ room. And it’s all your fault.” 

Lamb, Mint and Redcurrant Burger: “I’m sorry, it most certainly was not my fault; there is obviously some problem with your digestive system. We have to undergo the most rigorous Quality Control procedures following manufacture and then the ignominy of spot checks by Mr Waitrose and his bullies.” 

Me: “I can assure you there is definitely nothing wrong with my guts – I’ve got the constitution of an ox, and…” 

Lamb, Mint and Redcurrant Burger: “Look, matey boy, how do you (or I) know that? Is it a written constitution?” 

Me: “Don’t be ridiculous!” 

Lamb, Mint and Redcurrant Burger: “Well, there you go, then! You can’t prove it!” 

Me: “But I hardly ever get the sh… er, stomach upsets.” 

Lamb, Mint and Redcurrant Burger: “As I said, you can’t verify that to any acceptable standard of proof. I’ve only got your word for it.” 

Me: “Well, if it wasn’t you, it was you! (points at Pork, Sage and Apple Burger accusingly). You actually tasted quite odd, now I come to think of it.” 

Pork, Sage and Apple Burger: “Oi! Don’t try and blame me. As my colleague has explained to you, the processes to which we are subjected prevent harmful bacteria from being present among our ingredients to any substantive degree. And we are extremely conscientious about hygiene. We certainly don’t want Mr Waitrose and his trained thugs working us over.” 

Me: “I don’t accept that; I haven’t eaten anything else all day, so what other conclusion can I draw?” 

Pork, Sage and Apple Burger: “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do about it. I would suggest you should look for the culprit a little closer to home. You’re just looking for a scapegoat.” Me: “I think I’ve had enough meat for one day, thank you! Doh! I’m obviously wasting my time arguing with the two of you.”

Today, my dear friends, I ate something that disagreed with me.

Sumpkin Poop

Have you ever smelt rotten pumpkin? I don’t think you have, because you would quite likely be throwing up by now: I nearly did! As some of you may know, we have had two enormous pumpkins in the pub for a couple of weeks now, for the purpose of running a competition to guess their joint weight and to subsequently sell chunks of them, both for charitable purposes. Well, one of the buggers had given up the ghost in the vicinity of its nether regions and leaked all over the carpet. I think someone at a private party a few days ago who was the worse for alcomohol had damaged it by climbing on it, puncturing it, and then falling off it! Liquid was spreading inexorably toward tables in the back bar that had been reserved for punters taking part in the quiz that night. I had to use our industrial carpet cleaner to try and deal with the ghastly situation and several able-bodied male customers were engaged to shift both pumpkins out of the building. Did we need this on Quiz Night? What do you think? Still, things were accomplished and the evening went swimmingly. Hurrah for brilliant staff and helpers!

Poppycock

When I was much younger, I remember hearing a Rugby Song (no doubt still aired in the bath – I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been in the bath with a rugby player) called “If I Was the Marrying Kind.” Sorry about yet another pome so soon after the last one, but it occurred to me when I was bleeding earlier. It is the time of year when such accidents are all too common, I’m afraid. Actually, the only similarity to the old song is the format of the first two lines, which popped into my head for some unknown reason.

If I was the inventing kind (Which, thank the Lord I’m not, sir!)
The kind of thing that I’d invent
Would be a Poppy Clothing Attacher – It would be a thing
to stop your fing-
-er being attached
to your shirt or scratched
and without a point
that impales your joint-
-ed digit to your nipple
Not designed to cripple
Or make you bleed
But what you need
To fix it safely in –
AND IT’S NOT A BLOODY PIN!

Keeping the Cat God at bay

Omally’s comment about a little kitten dying every time you don’t blog (Simon told him that, apparently, and he should know) has put the wind up me a bit, and I don’t want the God of the Cats leaping down to Earth through the Great Cat-flap In The Sky and then tearing me limb from limb and/or disembowelling me, just ‘cos of killing a few measly lickle kittens. I hate it when Cat Gods do that. So, to avoid all that feline unpleasantness, I thought I had better knock something up to keep the arm and leg totals at the basic level and the old entrails ticking over. But, I ask myself, anxiously scanning the heavens, has anything happened today? Then I realised that lots of things – momentous things – had indeed happened today. I will list some of them (not necessarily in order of importance):-

I woke up this morning alive
I strode purposefully around town without it hurting
I added one or two Limerick lines
I had some lovely comments from some lovely people
I did some work that I love doing and for which I get paid
Sheila and I accomplished a mundane household task together by cleaning the kitchen – both of us smiling, she singing
I did something for my son and he said, “Thanks, Dad”.
I laughed a lot I read about the joy and sorrow in several people’s lives I worried about my niece who lives in Paris

Up yours, Cat God!

Bad timing

Well, it's later on today - yes it is! I know it's not in terms of the previous blog, wherein was contained the promise of a blog later on today, er, yesterday, but I just couldn't manage it, sorry! You'll have to make do with a pome I have wrote.

A Blogger's Lament
Oh! I wish I could blog every day
But my head doesn’t let me, okay?
There are others who do
But I’m just not like you;
There’s a block on my brain
And so, once again,
I can’t think of a damn’ thing to say.

Oh! I wish I could blog every week,
But my life is exceedingly bleak
It drifts by so sadly,
I’d swap it quite gladly
Because, as a rule
It’s distinctly uncool
Writing words that have flimsy physique

Oh! I wish I could blog every quarter,
That interval’s one that I oughter
Attempt to achieve
And, at least, I believe,
I could meet the time scale
And so thusly regale
You with noteworthy essays – well, sorta

But I think I’ll just blog every year
‘Cos I know that I’m no pioneer;
Then more are a bonus
And therefore the onus
Upon me decreases,
I’ll store up some pieces,
Thus leaving me more time for beer.

Empty vessels....?

Right! That's it! I'm sick of not blogging. Why can't I do it? What stays my hand in the hour of need? Even if nothing particularly interesting happens, I can always make something up, can't I? Anyway, I've had enough! So, batten down the hatches, pin back your lugholes and prepare for some shock news.... later on today, I AM GOING TO BLOG! Yes, later on today - after I've seen Adam and Lisa, of course - and after I've compiled Thursday's pub quiz - well, after that, obviously - and after I've prepared the notices that we'll have to display in the pub about ID and parents being responsible for their children and children under 16 having to be accompanied - yes, well, that goes without saying - and after I've done the football team's Christmas Dinner tickets - I've got to do those, they're urgent - and after I've done some new Lottery Syndicate sheets and Weekly Meat Draw Sheets - we've completely run out of those - anyway, make no mistake, after all that, I am going to blog - did I say later on today? - ah yes, later on today. So... see you later. Possibly.