Thursday, 19 April 2018

Legs and lights off...



Quite a few years ago, before Her Ultimate Fragrancy the Senora Chiara Robertine O'Blene deigned to be my loving wife, she had a green Austin Mini.

It was a great little car, the doors opened with one of those cords, and I think there were three switches and a speedometer on the dashboard and little else. You started it with a tiny key, and from then on everything seemed to work.

Miss O'Blene (as she was then) would sometimes pick me up from Etchingham station, from where we'd dash to my parents' house, grab a sandwich, then start a round of all the pubs - because that's what you did on a Friday, Saturday and a Sunday.

Now, the legs bit first. This was in the early seventies, when short dresses and skirts were all the rage. Miss O'Blene has fabulous legs, so was able to show these off at most opportunities. Changing gear meant an inch or more to see from the corner of my eye, and I was delighted of course!

But one thing happened with the Austin Minis back then. Whenever you drove through a puddle, all the electrics packed up! The lights went out, the engine stopped and there was nothing to show you up on the road! Her Mini often did this in Whitbread Lane, near here, and it was a frightening experience. Although I was never with her at the time, it might have been even more exciting with all the lights off, and everything damp...

Anyway, it was a common fault with these cars, and was sorted out in later years, such that we bought three more Minis. The first one was a Clubman which went like a rocket. I made a profit on that after a year or so. The second one I bought with £350.00 from an Access cashpoint, and the first thing I did when I got it home was put my hand straight through the wing and right onto the front tyre, so that meant a bit of fibreglass and a spray can. The old door was replaced with a scrapyard one for a fiver, and looked like new!

We p/exed that one when I noticed some shiny metal underneath, and it definitely shouldn't have been there. It smelt too, but was a great workhorse.

So all in all, what with legs that made being a passenger so much more fun, especially in the hot summer evenings, and lights going off at the wrong moment, life couldn't have been more varied back then...


Monday, 9 April 2018

London, bloody London...

I first went to live and work in London in 1969. I shared a flat in Ealing with an old schoolfriend for a while, then met up with another crowd, on the edge of Chelsea including lots of great Aussies.

Never for one moment did I regret the good times there, although I became fed up with the job, but that's another story. The pubs were great places, especially on Sundays, when I even played rugby for The Scarsdale Tavern with a monstrous hangover from far too many pints the night before...

Later, my various work was centred on London, and I usually drove the sixty-odd miles there and back on a daily basis, as the companies provided a decent car, and I was nearly always on the road!

Since I retired three years ago, I think I've been back once, to help a chum out with some work, and it really isn't the same any more. Successive liberal-left policies have strangled the place in my opinion, and when you consider the insane stance from maniacs like Ken Livingstone in the seventies, and now that silly little guy, Khan, it's much nicer to say 'no' to anything on offer in our once-proud capital city. Blood pressure remains normal, and I breathe fresh air all day!

It's becoming a badge of success that I don't ever have to add to the income of any shop or firm up there, and travel remains purely local with a happy Senora O'Blene in a small VW Golf, a small dog, and an electric bike.

So well done, London liberal-lefties, you can keep your benefit scroungers and serial stabbers, I don't need you any more!

Wednesday, 28 March 2018

Ball-tampering Analytica...




It has come to the notice of several gentlemen in the parish, that ball-tampering is becoming rife - especially at council meetings when feelings are high, emotions stretched, and the sap is... (get on with it - Ed).

Of course, one would wonder if there is indeed any reason to complain if a few seams are lifted, and substances used to roughen the surfaces and the fingers spin a Chinaman's googly down the aisle of the village hall!

Certainly, it has been known in the past, that Ms Baggage has bouncers which are deemed unplayable on occasions, and the Baroness Elect, Cynthia Molestrangler, has deployed the screens on many a tense final engagement with a fulfilling finish, so there's a sense of wonderment that three Senior (not you Dear) council members were sent home in disgrace!

The upshot of all this (wrong word - Ed), is that cameras are definitely deployed for the next council meeting, when Mr Iodine is called to explain his conduct in providing the necessary materials such as Elastoplast and Anusol Tablets. (WHAAAT - Ed)!

To be continued ad-infinitum, or at least 'stumps'...

Wednesday, 21 March 2018

Molestrangler Analytica...


Breaking news by Ms Edwina Baggage - Bicycling correspondent on The Sodden Prickney Bugle...

Baroness Cynthia Molestrangler has instructed Phondle and Knudge-Wincke, Solicitors and Commissioners for Oaths, to investigate how a telephone list of all the Parish was obtained from Mr Norbert Iodine's chemist shop, so that calls could be made to alter the result of the erection (don't you mean 'election' - Ed) when Count Basil Kalshnikov was voted in as Supreme Chairman of the Council.

Constable Lumbersnatch has also been informed for some reason only known to nobody in particular.

The self-styled Baroness insists that Mr Iodine's list of customers was purloined some time around the voting for the Count, and that there are some people who indeed have copies of all the prescriptions issued by various physicians in the district.

Mr Iodine was instrumental in obtaining permission for the lay-by outside his shop, so that Ms Billary could park her 4 x 4 to purchase necessary accessories such as comforting preparations to enable easy seating etc., and the like, without being noticed. In fact Mr Iodine was once (at least seven times - Ed), seen to assist Ms Billary who kept tripping up and falling down, by grasping several parts of her at the same time while her driver panicked and picked up the various packages, which contained enough preparations to fell a horse, maybe an elephant, possibly (get on with it - Ed), and had every reason to let slip the names and addresses for voters to decide.

Count Basil Kalshnikov made no comment, except to say that the little blue pills were for a complaint not unassociated with manic impropriety, not what you're thinking.

...to be continued.

Sunday, 18 March 2018

Stuff of life...


While I suppose I shouldn't be partaking of this particular beverage today, as Twickenham and Cheltenham seem to be the stamping grounds of the Irish at the moment, I do have a certain loyalty to the dark tincture as my dad worked for them for thirty years and I had several jobs there as well...

So as writer's block continues, I thought I'd show you a pic of one I opened ten minutes ago!

Sláinte!

Wednesday, 7 March 2018

Eyes, eyes...

Scrobs went for an eye test today.

Tunbridge Wells is OK, but not the best place these days, and some of the shops are a bit tawdry... It was raining so perhaps that made the difference.

So, into Boots, and away we went!

Lovely ladies with machines to show the bits you need, and eventually the result was that your favourite bloke this side of The Appalacians really didn't need new specs, he was still about the same as three years ago, except for a tiny nudge towards a cataract, which is to be expected at my time of life...

So, we decided to forego the cost of a new pair of specs, and wait a year. But we also decided that the specs normally presiding on the Scrobs' conk needed a bit of adjusting, and so it was thus!

How can anyone ever write a poem about the eyes of the lovely lady in the opticians? Gorgeous, as we had to stare at each other for several minutes, and I became somewhat lost in a blue haze and nearly wished I was many years younger..

We sorted the specs I still have, I paid not a cent, and promised to come back next year.

But the most beautiful eyes I ever see are those of the Senora Charismatic Roberta 'O'Blene, the love of my life!

Wednesday, 28 February 2018

The Art of Coarse Life...

I'm so saddened to read from Duff and Nonsense, that Michael Green has died.

http://duffandnonsense.typepad.com/duff_nonsense/2018/02/michael-green-1927-2018-rip.html

Michael Green first came onto Scrobs' screen back in the '60s, when I was at school, and subsequently revered all his books, which are the funniest I have ever read.





I also have 'The Art of Coarse Sailing' and 'The Art of Coarse Golf', which are just superb! The dust covers went years ago. We actually tokk the former on a Broads boating holiday once, and recognised so many passages! As for golf, I was no better than the coarse version, and gave it up when I was in my twenties.

By coincidence, Her Fragrancy, the Senora O'Blene and I gave each other as many Michael Green books as we could find for Christmas last year, and sadly - or perhaps hilariously, I'm right in the middle of 'The Art of Coarse Acting', which Duff and Nonsense describes!

I must have read all these books many times, as I can remember several passages by heart. Whenever I hurt my leg doing anything, it's always 'the zongular tendon', mentioned as an imaginary rugby injury, and I'll always recall the immortal line of Lady Macbeth coming down the stairs, and putting her foot right in a brazier...

There was also a novel 'Don't print my name upside down', again with a memorable passage describing a note scrawled on the wall next to the jounalist's telephone 'I have now been here for three-quarters of an hour, trying to speak with the Council's Water Engineer'!

'The Art of Coarse Acting' is just superb, and there were several sequels which I have yet to read, but my favourites have to be the rugby books, as it was probably his writing which convinced me that if I coudn't stay in the First XV, being a good tenor in the Thirds wasn't such a bad alternative!

I shouldn't be surprised if The Art of Coarse Heaven' doesn't come out soon, because he could write humour into everything...! What a great chap!

R.I.P.