As long as you take care of yourself you’ll be grand Fruitcake.
Roll on Spring and I can all at least get out to the garden when the weather is a bit warmer, it’s been freezing here the last few days.
By the way there was a fella I knew on a local forum here in Dublin, he was money mad, spoke little of anything else, his forum tag was “Dough-nut”, all I need now to complete a trio is a lady called “Jammy Tart”, or an E. Clare, then we can all have a high tea on a low table.
I heard that old tearjerker of a song on the radio last Christmas day, ‘The Little Boy That Santa Claus Forgot’ and it reminded me of a young German boy called Klaus De Vobia.
Born in 1919 to a drunken waster of a father and a heroin addicted mother he weighed only 3 lbs at birth, he spent the first six months of his life in an incubator resulting in him being terrified of enclosed places for the rest of his life.
There was no love for this poor unfortunate child and he was beaten with a knotty Hawthorne cane almost every day of his early childhood, he was half starved, as the old ones say here “There’s more flesh on a tinkers stick after a row” than there was on young Klaus.
When he was 12 years old his mother set him to work with her, she was a casual chambermaid in an old hotel in Hamburg and she forced young Klaus to operate the dumb waiter… from the inside, I needn’t tell you the poor boy was a nervous wreak after two years in the job.
His one and only love was painting pictures of open meadows and ships afloat oceans of blue green seas.
During the early days of the war Hitler got to hear of his art and sought him out, he sheltered and sponsored him, however Hitler had one of his flashes of madness one day and wanted to go pot holing taking Klaus with him to take live sketches, Klaus steadfastly refused and was jailed for the rest of the war in solitary confinement, imagine having Klaus De Vobia in solitary confinement?.
Not being able to paint any more he hanged himself just 10 minutes before the prison was liberated by the allies.
And they talk about the little boy that Santa Claus forgot!, tut tut, shame on them, n’er a song nor a word about poor Klaus De Vobia.
I never liked like running just for the sake of it. Chasing a round or oval ball was fine though, or cycling, or swimming.
My dicky ticker prevents me from doing most of that, and my knees won't allow me to ride a bike, but I do enjoy walking.
I have found lanes and fields and buildings of interest and shops and parks and views of the Atlantic and people I never knew existed until I took up walking for exercise five years ago. I have a nice pocket camera that was my companion before lockdown, and I have taken pictures of things I have never come across before.
Other than visits to a hardware shop I have not been out the house for anything other than medical appointments since the middle of March last year.
Thankfully I have a treadmill so do my walking indoors now.
How do you like the view?
I have also learned to read ... a book one handed whilst walking.
Oh what a terribly sad story.
There is so much cruelty and sadness in the world, and it doesn't seem to be getting much better.
I agree, far too much hate in the world today.
Peace of mind and contentment are King as far as I’m concerned, hate and stress are killers.
It’s true that you can’t beat walking for exercise Fruity, my dad was proof of that, he walked everywhere, said the bus made him feel sick and he only used it when the journey was long and couldn’t be avoided, he was as fit as a fiddle for a man of his age and lived to be 94, i’m positive he’d have made it to the 100 mark or more if he had not gone into hospital for a series of tests, he contacted that deadly hospital bug in there and that was that, God rest him.
It’s great to see you are always in good form when you are on here, it’s a pleasure to read your posts.
Beautiful view of the garden there, love the rustic parts, you have it looking great, long may you enjoy it.
I hate politics but I have to say a final few words on the outgoing president of the USA.
I love the new way the media say something that can’t be traced for verification.
“A source familiar with the White House told our reporter…”
Who do they think they’re kidding? it’s just an excuse for making it up, I make things up but everyone knows that already, no need for an excuse.
There are hundreds of thousands of people familiar with the White House all through the years, and the tourists come by the millions, it’s a world renowned landmark for God’s sake, everyone is familiar with the White House in some way or other, even my dog Rocky2 was able to paw it out to me when I showed him a map of Washington DC.
But if you want to narrow it down, the source could be anyone from the vice president down to one of the lads/lassies who cut the grass.
I noticed a lot of the women involved in the White House storming were dyed blondes, no need to bother rounding them up as they have already been imbleached.
“Oh God!,… eeze terrible”.
I worked with a Spanish chap, every time I told one of my lousy jokes that’s what he used to say, wise old geezer that he was.
Donald’s wife Melania has that long straight dyed hair too, split ends by the million, I remember a time when women were terrified of ‘split ends', I think they came out with a shampoo that claimed to prevent it.
Himself uses that fake orange tan.
A source familiar with the White House said.
“The president and the first lady take their appearance very seriously, they also take covit 19 seriously and adopt every precaution, when she goes to the hairdressers to be bleached, he goes to the garage to be sprayed”
Yes, but I noticed they often miss the white bits around his ears.
[QUOTE=spitfire: I am fortunate to have communicated with maybe half a dozen real life Jems.[/QUOTE]
You mean UNfortunate to have communicated with them Spitty.
My oul lamps are getting worse.
Reading some of the thread headlines tonight I misread most of them at first glance.
“Travellers- The mules are about to charge” (not a bad idea for freeing up the airports on busy days)
“Do you have a coloured bathroom suit?” (no, but I have a red arse when get out of the shower, does that count?)
“What will the boredom be like in five years time” (five times worse than it is now I reckon)
“Is any post better than a lamppost?” (I’ll have to ask me dog that one)
“Interesting fake on Trumps parchment” (always knew he was a crook)
“Boiled egg and toast solders” (I suppose that’s possible if you used a blow torch on the bread)
I think I’ll have to go into the displays and change to a bigger screen showing.
I have mentioned before that Brenda Lee is my all time favourite female singer, well I came across this little gem of a video of her as an 8 year old child on youtube, no wonder she was nicknamed “Little Miss Dynamite”, she was dynamite from the word go, bless her.
Watched “The Jewel in the Nile” with Michael Douglas yesterday afternoon on ITV4, I’ve seen it a few times but always enjoy it, great chemistry between Douglas and Kathleen Turner.
It reminded me of my early years in the jewellery trade.
When I was an apprentice I was setting my first stone in a signet ring, it was an 8x10mm Garnet and I was a bit nervous that my hand might slip and I could break the stone, being nervous and setting stones don’t go well together, but confidence only comes with experience.
As it happened I did slip and the scorper I was using to push over the rounded claws went sliding across the face of the gem resulting in a crack from bottom to top.
Now some goldsmiths have a habit of flinging the item on the bench and cursing out loud when this happens, but I am far more calmer and sympathetic, I prefer to speak kindly to my stones, you know, the way Prince Charlie talks to his plants, or so I’m told.
“There there, don’t worry my blushing little precious, (a Garnet is a deep red colour) you could still be cut down and made into two smaller stones, all is not lost”
I was surprised when the stone began to talk back to me, it was livid and said.
“You stupid bastard!, you’ve nearly ruined me, I might be half cracked but you’ll never break me, I’m still a beautiful stone”
“Ah!” says I, “Is this The Jewel in Denial speaking?”
I know, it’s terrible.
But there is a mixture of fact and fiction in that tale.
I loved Turner and Douglas in the film “The War of the Roses”
A classic example of love going sour, and a great portrayal of that old saying ‘Love and hate are horns on the same goat’, brilliantly acted by both of them in my humble opinion.
Women were scared stiff of split ends years ago because they were told by advertisers that they should be scared stiff of split ends.
Your misread thread titles made me laugh. I am guilty of similar with misheard song titles or lyrics.
Jambalaya. I like the song, and I like the food. I've never been way down South in the USA, but did get to eat Jambalaya and Gumbo in Tennessee. Very tasty it was too.
I too lacked confidence when I started work proper. I joined the main engine test department with a few months of my apprenticeship left to go.
On my first day after coming out of my time, one of the senior engineers gave me a folder and said, "This is your engine", and explained I was responsible for it until it went out to the customer, whether internal or external.
I wasn't allowed to run an engine solo or work nightshift until I had done a probationary year, then I was let loose to run tests on multi-million pound jet engines all on my own, often without backup or supervision.
This was at a time when racism, sexism, and bullying were rife in the workplace.
I had to follow a complicated test procedure, then request the crew to do certain things in the correct sequence. I was staff, they were hourly paid, so I was not allowed to instruct or order them due to union demarcation. If they said, no, or ignored me, there was absolutely nothing I could do about it except go back to the office and have a brew.
In the beginning, one particular experienced crew would regularly ask me, "are you sure?" when working through the test schedule.
Being insecure and unsure of my abilities, I would re-read the test procedure before asking them again to carry out the procedure.
Most of the test crews were decent enough, but this crew were 'orrible.
Fortunately one of the old lags (who would be younger than I am now) from a different department, but still hourly paid, helped me greatly with my confidence.
The next time the crew queried my request, I just said, "Yes" without checking the procedure.
They never did it to me again.
In a way though I am glad they did it because it made me have confidence in myself and my abilities.
My son and me were talking on the phone tonight about different employers and how they treated their employees. He’s been lucky enough to be working all through this pandemic, he maintains the computers in a big international concern here in the city and he’s perfectly happy in his job, by the way his boss is a woman.
I have worked for a two women bosses in my lifetime too, I prefer them to male bosses.
The only thing I didn’t like is you have to be very careful in what you say and be on your guard, when a group of men are working at benches they are inclined to be liberal with the swear words and rude jokes, and when a female boss walks into the workshop (often very silently and your back is always turned away from them) one can be caught out in the middle of a smutty joke or a few choice words to the fella at the next bench, red faces on both you and her.
In my own experiences I must say that women bosses are not as miserable with giving a wage increase as men, in my trade you had to ask for a rise, no unions involved, just as well for if there was ever a strike who’d miss a jewellery workshop closing down?.
You had to change workshops if you wanted to learn all the aspects of the trade, if you stayed in the one place you only learned the one thing, the bosses idea of that was if you learned every aspect you would go out on your own as soon as you could, so all the sections were segregated.
In one place I worked I was set up by a senior goldsmith there who knew the boss was a miserable git, I was just a kid and had only been there a month, he told me to go into the office and DEMAND a ten bob rise, “It’s the only way to go about it” he says, then he smiled and winked at me “This boss admires plucky apprentices”
I remember it to this day, I walked into the office looking very stern as instructed, here’s how it went.
Boss: Ah Jem, sit down, you’re looking very serious, what can I do for you:”
Me: “I’m feeling very serious Mr. Goldberg”
B. “What’s wrong with you then?”
M. “It’s about a rise in pay”
B. “Do you think you deserve it Jem”
M. “I do, I’ve been working like a dog this past month”
B. ‘Fair enough, how about 2/6 a week extra, is that alright?”
M. Great… ten years ago, but this is 1963, I was thinking more on the lines of ten shillings extra a week”
B. “Get out of this office you cheeky little bugger!”
When I went back to the workshop the lot of them, who had been looking through the big glass window and listening, were in fits of laughter, yes I was truly set up and didn’t last long in there.