Friday, 17 August 2018

Old school song...




Scrobs' schooldays are long past of course, but the old hymn we would sing at the end of the year was one which would blow the rafters off the old chapel roof!

I always wanted to copy the music (I had the words from the order of service), and only recently managed to get it from a fellow OB.

If you are able, it is well worth playing and also singing the words on the right. That last verse is an absolute killer, and at OB days, there's hardly a dry eye in the chapel!

Tuesday, 7 August 2018

Glass phone - phone glass...




On occasions when sleep evades this ageing but malleable Scrobs, a quick listen to the wireless (through earphones, before the Senora O'Blene becomes truculent and verbal), is on the cards.

Sometimes, there is a great chap on, Fevzi Turkalp, The Gadget Detective, and he really does know his stuff where computers, phones etc are concerned. He also has a very pleasant delivery, which is very welcome at 3:00 am! 

The other day, he mentioned a 'life-hack' which struck a chord.

Put your phone, on speaker, into a clean, dry glass and you'll get some pretty good amplification, which costs nothing and makes for a good listening experience!

I'd never thought of this before, and as my phone is more aligned to the old black brick design, compared with new smart phones, I thought I'd ask anyone here if it works?

Friday, 27 July 2018

Screws and a barrow...

Just recently, I needed something which would normally be stocked by an ironmonger.

We used to have a shop near here where you could buy just about anything in that line of business, and if I went in and discussed my requirement with Peter the manager, he would listen intently, and head off to the dark corners of the shop and after a few thumps and squeaks, he would reappear with the said item.

But then he'd start to chat.

So, after clutching the small item, say half a dozen screws in a paper bag, I'd be subjected to a discussion on life as we know it, and also, after another half hour, I'd emerge from his shop with a wheelbarrow, three packets of weedkiller, a plug for an electric fan I didn't own and a gallon of parrafin.

I really miss that chap. We all liked him in the village, and I'd vowed that when I retired, I'd go and work for him behind the counter, but it wasn't to be...

Thursday, 19 July 2018

1947 was a good year...



This is the day when the Senora O'Blene and I adjourn to the pub to celebrate Scrobs' big day...

The Great house at a village not far from here...

Thanks to the 71 place in Ilfracombe, I can post a nice picture of the actual age of your correspondent!

(Ilfracombe is a rather genteel place, known for its caves and tunnels - a bit like our garden in all this heat)!

Friday, 13 July 2018

Anderson v Isner...



There must be a country, somewhere, where someone went to bed just before this match started, and when they woke up, it was still going on...

What a fabulous match! It should have been a draw, and both of them could have played with some of those sponge balls and a black plastic garage racket on Sunday, just to relive a bit of the six and a half hours of pure sporting pleasure!

Over recent years, Her Beautality the Senora O'Blene and I have tried to relive the days of Rod Laver, John Newcombe and Ken Rosewall, but much of this was squashed when some of the earlier Americans muscled in, and brought arrogance and unwelcome aggression to Wimbledon. Our interest waned...

Isner has changed all that, and Anderson has proved to his own country what a real game should be like. They both deserve a huge accolade for their strength, skill and guts.

We can't wait for next year!

Monday, 9 July 2018

Tartan cackleberries...




Senora O'Blene has been busy manufactruring these delicacies, and most have vanished already...

Back when her family ran a successful pub, at this time of year, Scotch eggs just flew off the shelves, and she and her mum spent most afternoons making a load more for the evening rush!

We're trying to remember how much they charged, but one thing is for certain, a lot of the profit from sweltering in the tiny galley kitchen for several hours, probably paid for their retirement house...

There's just one left, and there'll be a fight as to who gets it...



Tuesday, 26 June 2018

Sunshine and Mr Carter...






Sixty-three years ago this month, Scrobs was incarcerated in The Royal East Sussex Hospital, having both legs realigned. They were growing the wrong way, so a quick snap, a few pins, and everything was back on track.

I reckon several of the lovely nurses here were in and out of Children's Ward 2 - bless! Six weeks is quite a long time for a 7 year-old, and I was desperate to be out in time for my July birthday, and all these girls were just gorgeous to us few kids.

I'd started school a year in Rye a year or so before, and used to travel with my sister on a number 30 Maidstone and District bus. The season ticket had been welded to my satchel, which was a good idea, as the fare of around 3d (just over a new penny now), was very important, and we always had to show these to the bus conductor of the day. One of these we nicknamed 'Sunshine', as he was always beaming and a happy man to be in charge. We all loved him, and he always welcomed us like an extended family - and there were a lot of us believe me!

Another conductor was Mr Carter. He was a grandfatherly figure, and a really kind gentleman to everyone. I can still remember him welcoming an elderly lady onto those long seats by the open door at the back, and while she made herself comfortable, she smiled and said how nice the bus service was, and Mr Carter was as happy as Larry to keep up the conversation.

Of course, being a kid, I had lots of visitors, family and friends, but only on a couple of days a week. Visitingimes were damn strict back then, and children needed naps! (Why they thought ringing a damn great bell ouside our ward was a good way to keep children asleep in the afternoon is beyond me), A highlight was being the star patient for a visit by the Hastings June Carnival Queen! And she signed my plaster in red biro!

Another highlight was being visited by one of our favourite bus conductors, Mr Carter, but I was asleep, and he didn't want to wake me. Of course, he left me some sweets; he was like that...

63 years eh. What a lovely man.