I’m the chubster on the right, my brother in the front middle and Peter Wilkinson on the left. We all went to the same boarding school in nearby Preston. The photo taken of the three of us in out back garden in Ince in Makerfield in what was then a very industrial Wigan. We are wearing our ‘Sunday Suits’ which as I recall were itchy wooly things. We were occasionally allowed out on Sundays and parents would come and collect us, feed us up in the day ( as you can see I was not really in need of feeding … Continue reading 3 boys on Sunday Release…

I’ve been quiet here for a couple of weeks whilst a couple of holidays beckoned. The most recent a week just one stop on the bus out of Mevagissey in Cornwall. Our plan was to visit the lost Gardens of Helligan, which is also nearby, but for some reason we thought a bus trip into “Meva” might be a good idea too. To a degree it was, the place has a small modest Museum where people have donated found objects and relics of the past like this wonderful pipe. The street of the town are quaint and narrow and frankly … Continue reading Mevagissey misses…

With the end of the WWC , Women’s World Cup, we are released from the yoke of the footballer commentator, thank goodness. The women who tell us what’s going on in front of us on the screen have been much better than their male counterparts. One such male seemed to have over cooked his homework and research so much that as nothing much was going on on the field he started droning on about how one of the girls mothers in law was married to a former player from Port Vale who once played against Jimmy Greaves or some such … Continue reading And now fine art football, and it’s over to our match day commentator: Mike Angelo.

A day out in Gloucester. On the bus, the 99, where a driver who looked about 14 drove me and one or two others to the hospital for me to get a special eye check up. Much waiting in a room straight out of the 70s with just a few people. The bloke ahead of me in a fancy wheelchair that should have had L plates on it as he reversed into screens and was eventually brought to a stop by his daughter pushing the on/off switch. Charming young doctor showed me some pictures of my eyes after a technician … Continue reading A Hungarian Boxer in the Docks

For a relatively short time I worked in High Holborn at a branch of the large ad agency: S H Benson. I was in the recruitment department. We specialised in ads trying to recruit staff of all sorts for a range of clients.We tried to recruit bus drivers for London Transport, and Train Staff for British Rail as it was then. I worked as a typographer ( not a very good one ) with an art director: Richard, and a couple of copywriters: Gordon and Hereward King. Hereward was of the old school, and he was quite old to be … Continue reading The Princess Louise and Hereward King

My local supermarket has started a little counter where they offer sushi. Raw fish rolled in rice. Now I know what this can be like. Daughter took us to a place in LA where it was superb. Try saying that whilst pretending to be Sean Connery. I wonder what he would have done with the line : “Shall we share some sushi Cyril? “ I shushpect you should shtep away . I digress. Firmly of the opinion that your eyes do the eating I was taken in by some sushi, shalmon and avocado rolls. Shorry, doing a Shaun again. I’ll … Continue reading S**t sushi and shenanigans

I’m a big fan of women’s football, and this World Cup is a treat for me, especially as I recover from a dental injury and know what a football looks and feels like. Reading an article in the Guardian on our team’s camp my heart sank. They’re looking after them but treating them like 2 dimensional male footballers. Table tennis, making wrist bands, craft tables, virtual reality headsets, for crying out loud it’s like Butlin’s on speed. They could be learning a new language, they’ll be surrounded by foreigners soon enough, so knowing the Spanish for “Offside Ref! “ or … Continue reading Souped up Butlin’s is not what our women need.

You might think that having an allotment is for you to grow your own veg. Well it is, and it is also to feed the local population of slugs snails and birds as well as for meditation. Just taking in the plot this evening was just brilliant. No one else was there, I had my own plot and all the others to myself. A redstart and a cliff chaff were in the area too, they were probably contemplating coming along for a feast on my slugs. I wish they would as the slugs are having a ‘super size me’ slug … Continue reading Plottage, meditation and spud failure…

One of the good things about this blogging lark is the way one can vent about all those first world problems that come upon us. A recent problem relating to hot water and cylinders has landed me with the task of finding an electrician and perhaps a plumber, to fix a problem. Plumbers and electricians are thin on the ground, or so it would seem, so to get one to respond let alone turn up is a minor miracle. The technique of asking either of these trades to get in touch is yet another minefield. I determined to find recommendations … Continue reading The plumber, the electrician and the bishop.

Winston Churchill used to write in the modern sort of shorthand that is now prevalent on social media and txt mssgs. Shortening words and the like or making up letters to sound like words. So lets blame him for this modern phenomenon of the two or even better, one word that’s meant to work as an entire sentence. So when one is asked if you will take a slight reduction on the sale of something the response might be ” Sorry, Cossyliv! “ This is the shorthand for Cost of Living Crisis and in normal speak would occupy an entire … Continue reading Cossyliv and other words.

I have two small resident critics staying with us at present so will run this drawing past them later, when I can drag them away from lego, flying airplanes in the garden and avoiding the “North Korea” of one of our neighbour’s gardens, eating pizza (which I’ve been trying to persuade them is Italian cheese on toast), and generally being fun. There’s work to be done on this yet. It’s a spare spread for an upcoming book written by Andy Harden. The third in the series. This one may not even be in the latest edition as it is intended … Continue reading No fly zones and constructive criticism

For crying out loud where did that come from. Excited is as excited as you can be, just leave it at that. I blame sport and the people who do well in it. Most pro sports people are really a bit two dimensional. Sports personality is an oxymoron, and many pro sports people are really just very dull people. I’m sure that Andy Murray is a lovely fellow but he has cornered the market on how to sound the opposite of super excited. That monotone Scottish delivery of his is about as interesting as a dead mackerel. Others are coached … Continue reading I’m just not super excited.