Re: Phil's Phings

the last time I caught the ferry from Holyhead to Dun Laoghaire was in 2000. Something had happened to import/export laws and the people at Holyhead could no longer sell cheap booze in the ferry shops - the shops were of course empty and the sellers bored and tired. We walked in to look at this phenomena but got out as quick as we could as the shop assistants glared at us!

Re: Phil's Phings

That's good old-fashioned customer service for you

Re: Phil's Phings

[QUOTE=philwhiteland;592167]And yet, it's that sort of camaraderie that appeals to many about coach travel - not me, I have to say. I knew someone who nearly got lynched because he insisted on trying to start a sing-song in the early hours of the morning [/QUOTE

I can rememember as a kid an outing with my gran They were singing old songs , but the coach driver became very anxious when the old folk sang "Sons of the sea" especially when they sang "Bobbing up & down like this".

"Mind my suspension folks" he wailed.

Re: Phil's Phings

Mind my suspension folks he wailed
And they swung from side to side
Mind my suspension folks he wailed
Me wipers they won’t smile

Mind my suspension folks he wailed
Or I’ll throw ya of the bus
They last they heard as they throttled him
Was can anyone drive this bus?

Re: Phil's Phings

'Sons of the Sea' - I'd forgotten all about that. A singalong favourite, of course.

Liked the verse, gumbud

Re: Phil's Phings

A Line About Clothes



With the usual caveat about not taking anything I write too seriously...

Is there anything more pointless than a man, trailing after his significant other, in a ladies-wear shop?

This question, amongst others, occurred to me yesterday when I was doing just that. Don't get me wrong, I really don't mind this as an occasional occupation. It gives me the chance to observe and look around me blankly. I'm quite good at this. People often say to me, "what is it you're thinking about?" and refuse to believe me when I say "nothing". They can't accept it, but I am quite capable of just standing and staring. Walt Whitman would have been proud of me.

Anyway, back to my original contention. Other than providing moral support, I really don't see what is to be gained from having us in tow. We tend to stand there looking lost and not a little forlorn. One enterprising chap yesterday had brought along the Sunday papers and had arranged these along his forearm, like a sort of lectern, and was attempting to leaf through these as he trailed after his partner. It did mean that he had a tendency to bump into things as he went along, but you had to applaud the attempt to gain something from the experience.

You see, in my opinion, we're not really there to do anything. When I was young and foolish (well, considerably more foolish than I am now anyway) I had a tendency to make suggestions. Actually, I could have put that better. I realise that makes it sound as if I hung around the Changing Rooms with a bag of sweets and a disconcerting leer. What I meant was that I used to venture an occasional opinion. I quickly realised that this was not my purpose as I was invariably wrong. Well-meaning suggestions were dismissed out of hand or regarded as tantamount to an insult.

Ambivalence or, if the occasion calls for it, enthusiastic positivity are the name of the game. As time goes by, you become reasonably adept at spotting whether the prospective purchaser is (a) just going through the motions and is not really interested (cue ambivalence) or (b) quite keen but needs confirmation (cue enthusiastic positivity). Responding to (a) with enthusiastic positivity will only cause trouble. At best, you will be seen as an idiot without any taste whatsoever, whose opinions can and should be discarded. At worst, you will prompt the purchase of said item, which will be hated from the moment it arrives home and either promptly returned or left hanging in some dark, forgotten corner of the wardrobe as a silent reproach. In either event, you will not be allowed to forget it.

Oddly enough, the opposite situation works in an entirely different manner. If you are shopping for clothes and your loved one is with you, they are quite likely to have strong opinions and may even take over the whole process. Frankly, I'm quite relaxed about this. I hate shopping for clothes etc. and will put off the evil day until there really isn't any alternative. Mens' clothes and accessories are impossible to get excited about. Take shoes for example. If you're not a big fan of either black or brown, then you might as well give up. Trousers, shirts and tops have more options but here we have a tendency to buy things that either correspond to how we used to look or how we would like to look. For example, today I saw a cheesecloth-type shirt with rolled up sleeves. Beside it was a picture of a slim, designer-stubbled, handsome male model wearing said shirt and I realised that, in my mind, that was how I would like to look and that was why I was attracted to the shirt. The reality of me ever wearing anything like this would be too awful to contemplate. I might have got away with it forty years ago, although I doubt it would have done me any favours even then. Partners tend to guide us gently away from such fashion faux-pas.

Perhaps we need a male creche? Somewhere we could be left with a good book or today's newspaper so that we don't clutter up the shop but within sight of the shopper so that we can give a blank look or vigorous nod, as required, whenever necessary. I commend the idea to the house. Well, to the lady of the house

My latest compilation of stories and musings, 'Giving a Bull Strawberries' is now on sale at Amazon Kindle for just 99p or equivalent.

Re: Phil's Phings

I think it’s all part of the training program the women have mapped out in their mind for us men, a sort of obedience test. I used to go shopping with the wife in the early days but soon dropped it out of a feeling of complete uselessness.
I’m glad I’m not the only one to notice the terrible choice we matured men have when it comes to clothes and colour of same, navy blue, black, grey, brown, and that’s the lot, wear something in a lighter colour and you’ll be taken for an American tourist. God help the women if they were stuck with that choice every time.
Very enjoyable as always Phil, thanks for sharing it.

Re: Phil's Phings

Thanks a lot, Jem. You are not alone! Is it too late to start a political party for this election?

Re: Phil's Phings

Dogging My Footsteps

I know that many people on this forum have dogs, but have you ever experienced anything like this?

I've recently been tasked with walking my daughter's dog, a lanky chocolate labrador, so that he can do those things which a dog must do, without rendering the kitchen into a no-go zone. I'm only required if my daughter and husband's respective shifts mean that the dog is going to be incarcerated for the full day, but that's been happening a bit just lately, so the dog and I have been getting to know each other quite well.

Our route normally takes us past the Stately Home that dominates their village. Between the road and the pavement, there is a grass verge (as in the picture above) and this seems to be his favoured spot for defecation. The other day, he had just completed his morning movement and I was poised to clear the mess up. Not, I must admit, my favourite occupation of all time but, in the immortal words of Arthur Guiterman:

"No matter what we are and who, Some duties everyone must do:"

The dog has an unfortunate habit of wandering as he dumps, despite my best efforts to stop this practice, so I'm poised with plastic bag in one hand, a supply of kitchen towel in the other and I'm steeling myself to deal with about a yard's worth of "ooh nasty" as Kenneth Williams used to say, when I notice a white car with a young couple in it drawing up to the pavement about 10 yards away.

My initial reaction was, 'I don't blame you for keeping as far away as possible' as it must have been fairly evident what I was up to. I was therefore more than a bit surprised when the car crawled along the road and came to a halt directly opposite where the dog and I were standing. There were no other cars parked in the vicinity, so there was no need for them to be close to my area of operation at all, and yet they had deliberately moved from a perfectly good spot to one that I wouldn't have been anywhere near, given the choice.

It was a hot day, and they sat chatting, with the window down, apparently oblivious of me, the dog, and the dog's recent evacuations just a couple of feet away from where they were sitting. I set about my allotted task as best I could, but the presence of an audience at such an intimate distance rather put me off my stride. Even the dog had the good grace to look embarrassed.

I couldn't, for the life of me, understand what would possess anyone to deliberately move closer to the scene of such devastation? Presumably, they were proposing to get out of the car at some point and this would, inevitably, involve the passenger stepping out onto the grass, exactly where the dog had just done his thing.

It is not possible, no matter how diligent the clearing, to remove every trace of defecation from a grass verge without digging up a cubic metre of grass and soil, which would soon lead to the whole area looking like the Somme after a particularly bad barrage. Therefore, it seemed to me, that the passenger could not hope to avoid a rather close encounter of the dog kind, that could have been easily averted!

To crib from Terry Wogan, "Is it me?"

Re: Phil's Phings

Couldn't help laughing at your plight Phil, but a dog's gotta do what a dog's gotta do.

Thanks for that, always a pleasure to hear your well told tales.