I see you are ticking over nicely Spitty, that’s the spirit laddie, it’s the ticking over attitude that got our civilian populations through two World wars, dozens of pandemics, numerous transport and power strikes, and scores of crackpot political leaders.
Sadly when I try to tick over and fill the house with merriment, song, and glee, I get ticked off, harsh words are bestowed on me “Would you ever stop acting the eejit, your frightening the Dog”
It’s only when the ticking over stops that you’re in the manure business, it’s goodnight Dick.
Hope springs eternal, never despair, as the old wise ones used to say “Live horse and you’ll get grass”
Yes ticking over during these dodgy times is most important, but so too is time and good timing.
If you haven’t got good timing you may miss out on a lot of good things, whereas if you have bad timing you can you can cock up a lot of good things.
My missus has very bad timing, not her fault bless her, when she’s out she usually rings me when I’m in the jacks or having a shower, or she’ll come out to the shed telling me the TV has conked out in the middle of a soap she was watching, and there am I with goggles and a mask on me face, a blowtorch in one hand and a crucible of white hot metal in the other ready to pour it into a mould, yes perfect timing.
My parents must have had good timing when I was born in late 1945, the war was just over by a few weeks, and there’s not been any more World wars during my lifetime, that wasn’t a bad time slot, imagine being around during the hundred years war (1337–1453), and we’re moaning about a probable two year pandemic.
There was plenty of work available when I reached a working age in the early 60’s, great selection of bands and music then too, got married young at the right time to the right girl and practically grew up with our two children so we were always very close and understood each others ways.
Yes, not bad timing at all, tell you what, I wouldn’t like to be a young man today starting out, don’t fancy the odds of staying the course with all these political nut cases in charge, anything can happen anytime and all the good timing on your part won’t make a jot of difference.
The wife and me had a photograph taken with the daughter and her family the other night, it was her birthday, and when she showed it to us on her laptop she said “That’s a good one, it’ll be great for future memories”
Now I know I’m only splitting hairs for devilment, but surely “future memories” contradicts itself, for how can one have memories of the future when the future hasn’t happened yet?
Speaking of splitting hairs, I have a brother in law who used to be a butcher and he used to split hares and rabbits with a meat clever all day long for a living, you could get nice hare cuts in his shop, and an Arab chap used to come in and buy the odd hare brain as a delicacy, all at reasonable prices, but they had to let him go, no call for that type of meat any more, the myxomatosis done away with all that.
When I was growing up in Dublin there were almost no black people here, the only time you would see anyone who wasn’t white was if you had to visit a hospital where there were a few black doctors and medical students.
Now when I say white I really mean white, us inner townie kids were all skinny and as white as sheets, milky looking faces from lack of sunshine getting through all those old tenement buildings I suppose, then again it could have been from all that free milk we got in school, cow juice they used to call it, I’ve never drank as much as a glass of milk since I left school, hate the stuff.
Strange then that my first real employer, the man who gave me a chance at the bench and took me on as an apprentice was from Trinidad, a real nice gentleman who had served his own apprenticeship in Hatton Garden and then married an Irish girl, they later moved their family back to her hometown in Dublin, he did very well here and his eldest son still carries on the business.
He tutored me personally for two years back in the early 60’s and taught me many things about the jewellery trade, I owe that man a lot, lord rest his kind soul.
Today the town is full of people from all over the World and it’s a very lively place to be if you are young, I have no wish to be young again, but if I were I wouldn’t mind doing the town as it is now for a few nights.
They all seem to mingle well, our new neighbours are from Mauritius, a very cheerful family and most helpful if you needed help, it makes a good change from the ever changing groups of students who used to rent the house, nice to have young kids about again.
He works for a big international concern here and his wife is manager of a city Hotel, none of them drink, so I was surprised when she knocked on my door last night with a bottle of Graham’s 20 year old Port, she got it as a present from a contented guest as he was leaving the Hotel, she asked me if I’d be offended if she gave it to me, offended!, well you know me, any old port in a storm, I was over the Moon, it is gorgeous by the way, but l’ll have to stick to Sandman’s when this bottle is empty, I could never afford 75 euro for a bottle of Graham’s 20 year old.
After two glasses of the stuff I’m feeling very sentimental tonight, Christmas must be coming again and it’s the memory of that old Christmas card, how sweet it is.
Here’s a nice soft sentimental song, reminds of when I got married, nothing to do with Christmas I hasten to add before I’m lynched for even mentioning the “C” word before it's time.
Good folks from any race, are always thrown in to the cauldron, just for arguments sake, its taking a long time to see what's been thrown into the Hadron.
Don’t get me started on my favourite white Elephant Spitty, the Hadron Collider, billions spent flinging balls at a wall and not a sausage worth of new info came out of it, but at least all the well paid chancers involved had a smashing time.
I’m sure If Spike Mulligan was alive today he’d write a good comedy sketch about it, that kind of thing was right up his alley.
The coronavirus rules keep changing all the time here, two days ago they said the “wet” pubs would open in two weeks, now they say they won’t, must be driving the poor publicans to despair.
I can imagine when this is all over and I go back to me local, the landlord will take me to one side and say “This is a pub Jim, but not as you know it”
I know there are far more important establishments than pubs, but I’m just pointing out how those in charge don’t seem to know their arse from their elbows, organised chaos is all it is.
I’m disgusted by the way the whole thing is being handled, no consistency at all, it’s either they closed down something too late or they opened up something too early, and them with offices of “Experts’ at their disposal. Dublin is heading for another general lockdown I hear.
God be with the days when we had true political heroes, men with true leadership qualities, men who put the people first, men who one could truly say of ’The emergency arose and the man appeared” Sad we have no such leaders to get us through this emergency, sadder still is it’s a World wide thing.
Money, power, and greed seems to be the only motivation for politicians nowadays, and they don’t bother to hide the fact either, shameful.
What the world now needs badly is a boatload of new political messiahs.
Strictly as an example and not to start a political debate, but this was said yesterday concerning corona virus by a powerful world leader.
"And you'll develop, you'll develop herd -- like a herd mentality. It's going to be -- it's going to be herd developed - and that's going to happen. That will all happen," ~ Donald J. Trump”
See what I mean? What the hell is herd mentality? Mad Cows with guns? Have you ever HERD such crap in all your life from a statesman? World leaders me arse, you’d get more sense out of a demented Hedgehog.
Reminds me of that old Irish ad for milk they used to have on TV, when the farmer goes out to his field, and a voice from above says.
“He heard the call of the herd, and the herd heard him”
Seems we’re all suckers.
“The people—that strange, dull, hapless, helpless multitude—always hoping, always credulous, always deceived, and always ready to be deceived.”
SIR WILLIAM BUTLER, K.C.B, writer, soldier, adventurer. (31 October 1838 – 7 June 1910)
And now a short prayer for those of us oldies back in isolation.
Blessed are the isolated ones trapped in their garrets and gardens,
For one day they shall be released and may venture forth to B&Q, at a distance, and it shall be on Wednesdays, when all charges shall be dropped by 20% for oldies, but do come early, for just like yesterdays chips, when they are gone, they are gone.
Thank you dear Lord.
It’s like living in a submarine and not knowing when we will surface.
Long time since we herd from him, maybe he got lost in the roundup.
I have a mouse in me workshop, the little bugger is driving me mad with it’s scratching, it waits until I’m dug into a piece of work before it starts, then when I drop everything to look for it it goes all silent.
I asked the missus to get me a mouse trap in the local hardware shop when she went out today, they hadn’t got any so she went into town to get one.
I heard raw pork sausage meat is the ideal bait for the trap, and that’s what I put into it, hope it catches him.
Here’s an interesting little tail, well it made me smile.
The three blind mice made famous in the popular nursery rhyme have been stripped of their disability benefits, the Department for Work and Pensions confirmed today.
‘Following a reassessment for the new Personal Independence Payments,’ explained Work and Pensions Secretary Iain Duncan-Smith, ‘our investigations showed that none of the three mice was in fact blind, although they were assessed as suffering from ‘mild’ sight conditions. As a result they have been reassigned as fit for work and have had their benefits cancelled with immediate effect, and we might even prosecute them for benefits fraud.’
The mice have vowed to fight the decision however, arguing that it was not their intention to deceive anyone by referring to themselves as blind. ‘What were we supposed to do?’ asked one. ‘Two short-sighted mice and one with a slight astigmatism doesn’t sound too catchy does it? It was just a convenient label. And as none of us can really wear glasses or contact lenses it’s jolly hard running away from farmers’ wives trying to cut off our tails.’ The DWP has confirmed that their lack of tails doesn’t affect ability to work either.
I’m pleased to report that I caught that pesky mouse in me shed, well not me exactly, the wife went out there yesterday to fetch a new mop head and she saw the poor creature in the trap, it was a quick clean kill according to herself, the trap was a strong steel affair and it snapped right on it’s neck, so it did not suffer.
When I asked her where she put the trap so I could disinfect it and save it for another day she told me she dumped it in the bin along with the mouse, bloody hell I forked out nearly ten quid for that trap, she said she was not going to put her hands on a dead mouse, even with gloves on, and that was that, ten quid or no ten quid.
What about the three deaf mice?, yeh never hear about them, let’s not be discriminative, I’ll fix that, one mouse with a disability is the same as the next in my book.
Three deaf mice, three deaf mice
They had no music fun, they had no music fun
They all suffered from isolation strife
So they chewed the ears offa the farmer’s wife
She never got such a fright in her life
From three deaf mice.
Yes, she was a bit Mutt and Jeff herself and didn’t hear them creeping up on her.