Archive for the 'Rambles' Category

Interlude

February 8th, 2012

I received some very bad news yesterday.

This morning I received more news which made yesterday’s pale into insignificance.

I may write about it sometime.

But not now.

It’s strange how 24 hours can change everything you take for granted?

The return of Bertie

February 7th, 2012

We used to have a regular visitor here at The Manor.

A heron used to come and rob all the fish in the lake.  Cheeky bastard.

I christened him Bertie Aheron as there was a certain similarity in the beady eyes and the sneaky approach to life.

I haven’t seen him in a very long time and I sometimes wonder what happened to the thieving duplicitous little cunt.  I also wonder what happened to the heron.

I was up at the crack of dawn this morning [it may even have been as early as ten thirty] and the first thing I saw out the window was Bertie [Aheron, not the other little shit].  He was standing there in the middle of the grass looking somewhat frustrated.  And well he might, as I got tired of restocking the lake ages ago, so the only thing he’ll find in it now are some snails and an old supermarket trolley.  A lake isn’t a proper lake without a supermarket trolley.

I presume he was a descendent of the original Bertie, as I believe they have a lifespan of only five years. 

I managed to shoot him.

Unfortunately I didn’t have the rifle to hand [why can you never find a rifle when you most need it?] so I shot him with a camera instead.

Bertie Aheron

That is a magnificent specimen of Ardea cinerea?

What the camera failed to capture was another magnificent specimen – Canis Sandii – who was at that moment travelling in the direction of the heron at about 150 miles per hour.

It was the fastest fucking take-off I have ever seen.

Anyone want some heron feathers?

Wishful thinking

February 5th, 2012

There is no harm in the odd daydream?

No?

I thought not…

 

DeleteEU

The elephant in the room

February 2nd, 2012

There is an expression that has been grossly overused for the last while.

“The elephant in the room.”

Now I don’t know who coined this irritating cliché, but he [or she] should be shot, preferably with an elephant gun.

But why do I mention it now, you ask?  Well, probably you don’t but I like to think I give rise to intelligent debate and discourse.  Leastwise, I do have a reason.

Sir Fartzalott arrives here occasionally.  For those of you who maybe haven’t bothered reading this in recent times, Sir Fartzalott is the youngest of the grandkids.

He is a lovely kid with a solemn face and a strange sense of humour.  He has a couple of activities that he indulges in when he comes here.  One is to press every button and switch every switch he can lay his hands on which leads to some interesting surprises, such as music suddenly blaring out at around a hundred watts.

His other activity is picking things up and transporting them.  He loves playing with my old collection of Dinky and Matchbox toys which are all well over fifty years old. I have grown used to seeing little cars in the strangest of places  I would find an old Ford truck on the toilet cistern or a Massy Fergusson tractor in the coal scuttle and know exactly how they got there.

He was here a couple of days ago, and found our elephants.  They are two little hand carved and highly polished African elephants and I have had them for donkey’s years [or elephant’s years?].  One of them ended up on the table in the kitchen, but the other is nowhere to be seen.  For once, Sir Fartzalott has me baffled.

So if you do happen to find an elephant in the room, could you let me know?

I miss him.

Bring back Dubya

January 30th, 2012

I had cause the other day to look back on some of my earlier scribbles.

Jayzus but you’d swear they were written by a different bloke.

Some of them are long and rambling, and some have a quaint sort of humour about them.  Leastwise once or twice I almost found myself smiling, but fortunately I copped on in time.

So what the fuck happened in the last five and a bit years?  I know Dubya is gone [he used to provide tons of material] and the current incumbent – Obama – is a colourless substitute, if you’ll forgive the expression [hah!].  At home, Bertie the Bollox has retreated to the kitchen cupboard and Cowen has disappeared into an alcoholic haze.  Politics just isn’t fun any more.

So what the fuck happened to turn me from a mildly humorous old fart into a cynical humourless old fart?  Can it be the recession?  Can it be that I’m getting old?  Are they putting something in the tap water?

It’s worrying.

If this trend continues, I’m going to become a right cantankerous old bollix.

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