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Serendipitous times

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Today I couldn’t go for my usual Friday pre-work brew & chat with one of my (remaining) friends. Consequently, I was home when the lovely local Avon lady knocked on with my order so I got to talk to her about her upcoming house move. And it meant I was home to a brief random flying visit from my baby bro and my sister from another mister.  They had a cuppa and dropped off some chocolate giftage.  Because he’d popped by, I couldn’t walk as usual to work, so he dropped me off near the bus stop.  While at the bus stop I met an old friend not seen for months and months, complete with her little babba and birthday boy of an eldest son (an ex pupil of mine).  Wouldn’t have seen her if I’d gone my usual way to work.

Successful evening at work and this old song came on my mp3, Sun is Shining putting a grin on my face, reminding me of a corking night (this one time) in Liverpool with my sister and her Uni pals. When sofas were danced upon and may have fallen over in the process. We shouted at a tramp out of the window. I forget why – something to do with a stolen wallet.


Then I came home to see a rainbow, with its end firmly planted above my house.

Tonight I had a conversation with Bman about a Latvian family buying a local property and then spent 5 minutes explaining that this didn’t mean a family of tiny toy squirrels in waistcoats or dresses would be moving in round the corner.



And sometimes the lords and ladies of the universe just let you know that you’re alright.


This is a local post for local people

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I appear to be having some kind of midlife crikey lately where, despite looking my age, I actually seem to be mentally regressing.  19 on the inside.  69 (dude!!) on the outside. And it’s panicking me a bit. I’ll be buying rollerboots next and trying to get off with 26 year olds.

Look at those crinkly eyes!  Those pores!
I think I might have peaked at 34.  Although am strangely happier with my body now at 47 than I ever have before. Pity no bugger wants to see it though.



WTF is happening here? Laughing too much & gozzy-eyed squinting have taken their toll


To distract myself from inevitable decrepitude and the fact that it’s only going to get worse if I turn into one of those botoxed. boob-lifted, peroxide Patsy Stone types, I chose today to check out a local meeting (for local people).


I don’t want to get old. I’m still only mentally about 20

I follow our local area’s FB group page to see what’s what in the hood – who’s been robbed lately or had their knickers stolen off the line – that type of thing.  It’s recently gone a bit westside and has been more entertaining than the Brexit saga, all because someone has erected a chain across a snicket/ginnel/alley/twitchell/call it what you will, in order to deter rogue quad bike riders and teenage drug dealers.  This has caused outrage and much chuntering on FB. I have been following the saga on the community page with a mix of neighbourly interest, amusement, and frustration at some of the questionable spelling.

With nothing better to do with my Monday other than bemoan my encroaching slide into the domain of the desperate old woman, I decided to wander down to the local meeting for local people, which had been arranged by our local councillor and to be held, oddly, at the site of the disputed chain. I was there in a people-watching capacity only, as I couldn’t give a shit if someone has the right or not to try to stop people riding dirt bikes and quads down their back alley or dealing drugs next to their back yard.  I was more interested in who else rocked up and whether the people who had been so vocal online were there in person.


What’s all this shouting? We’ll have no trouble here!


I’d wanted to arrive on a quad, through the disputed public right of way, whilst smoking a massive spliff, just out of badness and because I’m a piss-taking, trouble causing cunt, but couldn’t obtain the necessaries at such short notice, so I just walked round instead.

There were no pitchforks or flaming torches but it was fairly depressing.  Despite the local councillor and the dude from the council who deals with public rights of way disputes and such, reminding the small crowd to listen and not argue over the top of one another, that is of course, what happened.  Everyone had an opinion. It was the usual Top Trumps local edition of who has lived around here the longest like that’s a badge of honour rather than a poor life choice or a rut you are now stuck in.
The poor woman who was responsible for the drama spoke up to explain herself and I couldn’t tell you half of what she said because guess what? people were talking over her to each other and not listening.  Too busy chuntering and grumbling about losing their short cut.

I was asked twice whether or not I even lived on the street. I said no I didn’t, I lived around the corner and was there purely in the interest of sociology and psychology and that thus far I had not been disappointed. I did speak up when a couple of people were a bit mean after the lady had gone back inside her house.  But of course they were – people are mean – it’s human nature, unfortunately.


Several people had even arrived in vehicles, which led me to think about how local they actually were if it had warranted a drive but that…like the chain fence, is none of my business.



Meanwhile, the Bman is back from his weekender in Manc (which was initially only an evening), so I no longer have the bed to myself.  If he snores I may have to adopt this approach. We’ve tried everything else.  Snore pillows, nasal strips, mouth guards, punching him in the ribs.

It could be a win-win situation for me.



Neighbourhood Watch

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It’s the Easter half term break.  Thus far I have mostly spent it choosing a new carpet for the stairs, landing & office then painting the skirting boards & cupboard doors.

Bman & I also spent an amused half-hour the other day standing at the window (not even trying to pretend we weren’t ‘peeping’) watching our new neighbours make a dog’s breakfast of filling a skip.
The dirty sods have had a stack of rubbish piled up outside their house for almost a month (since they moved in under cover of darkness.)  We haven’t established yet how many people actually live in the house, but it seems to be at least one guy, a child & 2 women, if not more!  Polygamous times in the hood.


Anyway, a  dude from the council called round the other day & took photos of the garbage & tried to knock but nobody answered, even though at least one of the women was definitely in.  He then drove off, but 10 minutes later another dude, who is a cohort of the landlord, arrived in his car and began feverishly raking through the rubbish & filling his boot – but only with specific empty boxes.  It was like something from ‘The Burbs.’   It was most ‘On Top’ (as we used to say back in the day).  I know all of this because I just happened to be planting up my hanging baskets out front when this was going on.  (Convenient, I know).


The next day, the landlord – *Keyser Soze – turned up with his henchmen (*he looks dodgy and has a limp) & the world’s tiniest skip arrived.  The 3 of them then set to work in the feeblest, most ineffectual way possible to load up the skip.  I swear they put about 2 bin bags & a piece of cardboard in then got in the car and drove away, leaving the rest of it still piled up in front of the house! 

Too wee

Too wee

It finally got filled later that evening by the tenants but has been sat in the street for the past 2 days uncollected.




Whilst I realise some people may say it’s unethical of me to post a picture of my neighbour’s house online.  I doubt very much they are going to stumble across this blog on the internet.  God knows it’s not like I have a massive following.
Even if they do and don’t like it then, I say to them, “Empty your god damn bins then you numpties!”   FYI if the binnies put a sticker on your bin letting you know they can’t empty it because of what you have in it – you need to empty the bloody thing otherwise it will stay outside on the street forever, stinking the neighbourhood up & dragging down the already diminishing house prices.  Then I will never be able to move, which makes me your neighbour for the forseeable!  You want that? Do you?  Do you?  Do You?

I’m surrounded by fucktards.  A flicker of intelligent thought among the detritus of a benefit society under the deluded illusion that the world owes them something.



I have also been swimming with the childerbeast this week at the local pool.  I have one word to say to Leeds City Council on that subject and that word would beVim– buy a bottle and get someone to scrub the bottom of the deep end!

Holy shit!  I had to dive down to the bottom to retrieve Child No. 1’s goggles & I’ll be having nightmares about what I saw down there for weeks I tell you!
I’m pretty sure there’s a cure for cancer, the common cold and Aids ingrained in the grouting between the tiles. 

It wasn’t pretty!


Meanwhile, I’m going to see Warwick Davis’s theatre production of ‘See How They Run’ tomorrow in Derby.  Based purely of course on the theatrical merit; my love of a good old British stage farce and not at all for the fact that the entire cast is made up of dwarves/midgets/little people/persons  of a diminutive stature (insert own politically correct description here) or to add to the comedy value that I am going with 2 of the tallest people I know.


To finish I would just like to say how sad I am that Sue Townsend died today.  The Adrian Mole diaries were what encouraged me to keep a diary in my teens – (mercifully, none of which have survived) though I am sure they would make for a highly entertaining read now.  Along with Alan Bennett & Bill Bryson I would say she is right up there, influencing my own writing. 

RIP Sue and thanks for all the laughs.