Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

Been on here a while now, a lot has changed since Googie Withered.

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

Nipped to the shops this morning for a few things loaf, eggs etc and at the bakers after my large farmhouse was sliced by the death by thousand cuts machine the assistant told me they had stopped supplying plastic bags to put the loaves in. I told her that try as I might I could not fit all the the bread in my 2 coat pockets and the slices would crumble at the thought of ratttling around in my shopping bag. She shrugged so I left...breadless. Shops and stores started this packaging nonsense now they are dropping it like a hot potato

Now I am all for doing my bit and I'm proud of the amount that goes into my recyclying bin compared to t'other one but a bit of common sense would not go amiss with those who should be helping us to do our bit...like tell the customer before slicing the ruddy bread would be a start or get paper bags big enough to pop a loaf into as I can still wield a bread knife and cut a mean doorstep for toasting

Old clip about packaging

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

Great video Solo.

Talking about JW’s Spitty, one of my son’s old mates, who could safely be described as a devoted lifelong common wastrel, is now going around canvassing for souls as a JW.
I think they do it for the gear they get to wear, not to mention the few bob, this fella never wore a suit of clothes since he made his confirmation and now he’s parading around like Lord Muck in a three piece handmade mohair suit, highly polished leather shoes and carrying a brown leather briefcase, when I asked him does he really believe all the stuff he preaches, he just smiled and fingered the material of his suit jacket.

Ah, the new “wonder” material—plastic? led to the death of the Clondalkin paper mills, and the Irish Glass Bottle Company, all good Dublin employers.

Man cannot live on bread alone
He needs a plastic bag to take it home.

I would have thought you were a home bread maker Solo, the bread they make today is woeful, full of water and tastes like raw dough, as for sliced pan, they can keep it, I never touch it.
There’s only one shop around here that makes decent bread and we use it when Phyllis hasn’t made any of her own bread, the shop is family owned and has been here for as long as I can remember, they never used slicers or plastic bags, just wrap the bread up in that brown tissue paper stuff, you used to be able to ask for “a loaf for cutting” that was a loaf that was not fresh so easier to slice at home, how you get it home is up to yourself.
I can remember going there for bread for my mother, it would still be hot and I’d be pinching a hole in the centre of it nibbling away on the way home, then getting a clatter on the ear from her when i got into the house, she also made sure when buttering the bread that I got the slices with the big hole in the middle.

I kneaded a song to go with bread.
I’m afraid this is the nearest I got to it—Meatloaf. Dough know how it came into me head.

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

Reasons I have not made my usual bread...

I am tackling the garden jobs..well I say garden but due to the constant rain which has made every living thing growing there think yipeeee...Lets keeep on growing and try for the jungle look..which they have responded to with great success making my job a tad harder this year....well a lot harder if the truth be known as I am also a year older and unlike my trees and bushes I am growing down instead of up.

As I am the last here to keep what should be small trees and bushes for the birds to nest and play in that means I must pay the usual hefty price of cutting back, leaf collecting, ivy and clematis pruning and all the other joys of being a garden owner..but I do love doing it as it is so satisfying... except that is for the roses and brambles.

I react rather badly..well very badly... to rose thorns and bramble stings and despite wearing chain mail type gloves they always GET me..and those blasted brambles laugh at you now they know there are no products that you can safely use to keep them in check. They simply throw their branches out everywhere in gay abandon and shout look at me and blow raspberries at you...well blackberries really but you know what I mean.

Anyway this is a bit of convulated way of saying scratched and swollen fingers can't knead dough.

I suppose I could try singing Knead your loving to the brambles and if I thought it would work..I would ,

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

Yes Spitty, but it’s very hard to get recruits for religious orders these days, especially in the Church of Iceland, where many are cold but few are frozen.

It seems Prince Philip suffered a wobble recently, not to worry Phil me lad, not a bit of harm in it, I had several wobbles meself on the way home last Saturday night and I’m still as right as rain.


Ah I see Solo, a very busy lady art thou indeed.

And talking of work, come ‘er till I tell ya...

The wife had me nagged for months to fix the sofa, the stuffing in it had sunk over time, but mostly caused by her fat bum being plonked down on it every night, it had only sunk on the side she sits on, she also puts her legs up and falls asleep on it too, I don’t know how the poor thing has held out for so long.
So today I reluctantly commenced the task, I turned the sofa upside down and began to remove the tacks that held the cloth onto the base.
Now I have to tell you here and now that if there’s one thing I hate and that’s someone standing over me when I’m working, Phyllis knows this but there she was right behind me telling me not to damage the wood that the tacks were nailed into. I immediately downed tools and said “Missus, if you want the job done you know how I operate, no overseers please, so kindly stand aside and let me get on with it” “Just saying like” Says she as she went into the kitchen.
When I opened up the bottom of the sofa and took the cloth off I noticed something brown wedged into a corner of the wooden frame, it was a €50 note!, what a pleasant surprise. I called the wife who immediately laid claim to it. “Ah so that’s where it went, I knew it was in the house somewhere, thanks Jem” and the hand went out, a short lived surprise.
Anyway I measured, cut, and fixed several strong lenghts of wood over the foam in the sofa so that it’s now impossible to sink down anymore, then I used upholstery tacks to nail the cloth back, job done.
I sit in a matching leather armchair bought at the same time as the sofa and there’s no sign of it sinking, I suppose it’s all to do with the size of your bum and how you lower yourself into the seat.
They were expensive to buy at the time but are still in great condition, worth the money.
She’s sitting on the sofa now, albeit a few inches higher but happy with herself, she even gave me €20 from her €50 for a pint later on, so all is well that ends well, until I glanced at her laptop and there she was looking up leather dyes of all colours, if she’s thinking of changing the colour of the sofa and armchair she can whistle for another man to do the job, colouring jobs ain’t my function.

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

Jem that did make me laugh ...mind you any man that can scribble about his wifes 'fat bum' has to be very secure of his foundations....or enjoys living dangerously.

One time I had my hand down a sofa we had a soot fall. Could have been pure coincidence but it was something that you don't forget so I am wary now of where I put my hand.

I had rented a small flat with an open fire from a Berliner who at the time were not noted for spending cash when not thought neccessary...a left over from war days I'm told...anyway there I was searching for my ID card when a black cloud descended.... make that a very thick black cloud and unless you have experienced a soot fall you will have no idea where soot can go or what crevices it can creep into..and don't let anyone ever fool you that black is not a colour because that cloud covered and coloured everything.

When I eventually surfaced from the black hole and could splutter a few words of what had happened to my grinning landlady she said... "Ja das ist gut, it vill safe me having to have it swiped now"

I know for a fact no jury in the land would have found me guilty if I had acted on what I thought I would do on one of those rare moments of madness that occasionally comes over one

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

There's always one brick left to fall.

Now that is an eerie coincidence Solo, we had the chimney sweep in at 9am this morning to clean it, did a marvellous clean job too, not a bit of soot anywhere, and how much do you think he charged?… you guessed it…€50, exactly what was in the sofa, God is me judge.

There was an old lad used to have a pint with us years ago, he lived on his own and loved a good fire in the Wintertime, he never had a chimney sweep in in his life, when he thought it needed a cleaning he spread a wide sheet of heavy aluminium foil around the bottom of the fireplace then lit a page of newspaper and sent it up the chimney. The chimney column roared and blazed for about half an hour then settled down and his chimney was cleaned, he wasn’t a mean Berliner, he was a mean Cavan man, they are twice as mean.

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

It is becoming more difficult, to slot in a one liner, that may be my fault.

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

Dissociation and all that.

Re: Leisurely Scribbles (part 5)

As long as you can string a few words together and leisurely scribble em down there's always hope for you spitty .

As Alexander Lowen once said "Life is not a mixture of matter and energy but energy in matter, bound in such a way that dissociation is impossible so long as the living process continues".

Now pinch yerself and if you can shout "OUCH THAT HURT" you are still alive