Thanks for dropping in
I used to work for a chap who looked a little like this. Head Warehouseman at a transport company. He hated students and told me so frequently. I was not desperately keen on him. He got his way in the end as I was asked to leave. I can’t imagine anyone wanting this mug on a mug, or anything for that matter. But if you insist: Mugs and stuff
There’s going to be a new haircut every day for the next week or so, then I promise to have a break from it for a while. You can see all these on Red Bubble where you can get any of them as a print or even a mug! So a mug for a mug. Hope you enjoy them.
It’s all very carefully coiffed. He won’t hear what you have to say.
Available on a mug and t-shirts quite soon. Red Bubble
Yesterday it mainly rained. Out and about with my chum and songster Robin, he tells me that this song was a recent discovery, but that he is only aware of two verses. So if you happen to know any more then please let us know. The setting for this song is the church at Frampton on Severn, and from here we walked out to the River. It’s well worth a visit if you are in the area. In our case, the undergrowth was so wet that trousers became wet and as they acted like blotting paper. A stop at Gloucester Services on the way back was vital to refresh and an excellent coffee and small cake. Recommended, a motorway service area with no branding whatsoever, all motorway service areas should be like this one.
Another subject covered on our walk was the invention of the lawn mower. An inspiration of the local engineer Edwin Buddings, it’s well worth looking at how this came about. Did you know there’s even a Lawn Mower Club? Take a look right here and learn even more The Old Lawn Mower Club
We hope you enjoy the song, even if it’s not very long!
Ex-public schoolboys go on to be explorers. Is this a fact? I don’t know, but I bet most of the well-known explorers did go to a very good school. They qualify in beard growing at a very early age.
Get an explorer on a flag! Put it up at the North Pole ( or the South, I’m not fussy ) and send me the picture. Here’s where to find the flag : Explore this site: Red Bubble
I sometimes sign up for campaigns that I think are worthy. There’s a danger that if you sign anything remotely interesting and then get loads of unrelated emails for you to sign others, but this is one that I signed a while ago and it covers a lot that I feel strongly about.
First of all, I’m not big on sport. That does not mean I dislike sport, I like it quite a lot. No, I’m just not a fanatic. This is aided by the fact that I’m not very good at it. I tried football in the younger years without much success. I was usually selected for goal on account of my width at the time, and I suspect that I could do a little less damage there. I tried rugby but my dentist told me it would be wise to give it up, as teeth filled on a Thursday were relieved of their fillings on a Saturday afternoon. I did win something at tennis, mainly because I played with the best player in the club, so I know what it’s like to win, but only once. The tennis team that I played for went for two years without winning a single match. We won points but never the match. When we did win, the look on the faces of those we’d beaten when we told them we had not won for the previous two years was priceless. As for running, well I’ll pass on that, never seen the point myself when you can just walk comfortably.
Over the last few years, however, I have been a keen plotter, as evidenced by the odd post on here about sheds and the ethereal and artistic nature of these sacred objects. So when I see that someone is planning to chuck fellow plotters off their land I see red. Digging up and destroying allotments to replace with a sports field? Does not sound fair to me. So I’ve signed up against the plan. I hope you might do so too. Allotments must be preserved and planning officers told to run around a sports field several times with a large bag of manure until they relent.
Stick it to the man!
But not so. I live in a town where there are numerous public schools, and I’ve seen the odd one looking like this. Old before their time. 14 years going on 45.
Please don’t buy this on a t-shirt. There are others more worthy on Red Bubble
Amidst all the haircuts I’m dropping this one in. It’s one of the British Character drawings from my exhibition earlier in the year and is close to the original Pont idea.
Pont: Graham Laidler, and the British Character
I’m a bit ‘low key’ myself about going out and am told I should ‘get involved more’ from time to time. I’ve avoided any fuss about my birthdays for some years and thought I’d managed to keep my head below the parapet for the latest one which was recent. But my kids and son/daughter in law sent me a brilliant gift of a hamper of food goodies from Cornwall, and my wife got me a book that I wanted about Samuel Pepys.
Now I’ll have to go out to walk off the weight so that I can justify sitting for hours reading.
For goodness sake don’t send me birthday greetings, just cash.
Well, it’s not really a haircut, but no matter. Call it a style if you like. Have you noticed how old blokes who go running sometimes look like they are about to fall over? Running, if it can be called that, at an angle of 45 degrees to the tarmac. Or leaning back at exactly the same angle. Perhaps the bandana is to cover old head injuries. There has to be a reason for the bandana, or perhaps they think it looks cool.It does not.
Who am I to criticise, when I won’t even run for a bus.
You can get “Old Zapata” on a t-shirt right here: Red Bubble. If you know someone like this then go ahead and buy one for them, but be careful, they tend to take themselves very seriously, for no reason.
When a barber just repeated himself every day. Will the style ever come back? Buy a Beatle haircut on Red Bubble
Please please me.
I first heard the Beatles when on a “French Exchange” at school. It was their first hit “Love me do” which brings back memories of France every time I hear it, my first taste of watered down red wine with a meal, chocolate in a baguette for a picnic lunch, and the joys of a 2cv. ( I bought one later in life; it was my first car in London and ideal for getting around Hyde Park Corner. Every other driver thought I was a lost Frenchman, which I encouraged by using my peripheral vision) By then I lived in Shepherd’s Bush and we parked the beast on the street. My business partner’s wife thought it might be a good idea to buy a ‘crooklock’: one of those iron bars that you lock around the steering wheel. We never really bothered with it, but were somewhat displeased when someone stole the ‘crooklock’ and not the car.
