Saturday, 31 January 2009

Canoe story...



When we cleared out the Elder Scrobs' 'Turrets' in Rye, Sussex, there was a huge heap of memorabilia stacked in the roof, and Mrs S, Lovely Sister S and Scrobs (himself - in charge of bottle opener and corkscrew on several (many) occasions)) spent days doing the big bin-bag shuffle.

This happened years ago, but just recently, owing to a need to reduce the severe weight on the ceiling joists upstairs, (The Turrets was in danger of collapse from accumulated stuff from years gone by), this exquisite book reappeared.

Kit Carson was my hero then (I was nine), and so were David Livingstone (The Eagle), and Roy of the Rovers, (Tiger) and we all collected those spinning cardboard wheels which you attached to a loop of string and eventually whizzed them to a frenzy. They could cut through a whole school desk, or even the legs of the Latin master... after which you were beaten senseless by the powers that were.

Cut to a few years ago...

When we all went on hols to Brantome (somewhere in France; several bottles away) some years ago, we hired a couple of canoes and went down-river to Bordeilles for some sort of water/alcohol experience. Elder Daught came with me and Younger Daught with Mrs S.

The water was pathetic. The summer drought had reduced the flow from maximum Victoria Falls to Thames Water Lewisham dribble, and we had to work pretty hard to get anywhere - even paddling downstream!

When we were encalmed at one particular spot, I yelled at ED 'Dig Carson, and dig deep', which was overheard by the other two on our watch...

Which explains why we all collapsed with excess mirth when they discovered why I'd screamed these simple words...

They're buggers, families - aren't they...?

Sunday, 25 January 2009

Welwyn Garden City...

I'd have loved to show my Dad this aerial pic of the nine houses that his Dad built in the twenties.

He didn't know about computers, although the Daughts taught him to play 'Harrier Attack' on our Amstrad 464...

His marks, his skills, his small signatures, and his Dad's, are all over this place and I just want to go there again and soak.

http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?hl=en&as_qdr=all&q=welwyn+garden+city+the+quadrangle&um=1&ie=UTF-8&split=0&gl=uk&sa=X&oi=geocode_result&resnum=1&ct=title

Wednesday, 21 January 2009

Sudoku, Bush and Gilmour...



This was published in the excellent Metro freebie newspaper today.

I always grab a copy when I'm nearing 't Metropolis, as they run a good early news section with not too much poncy crap about actors and other wasters and nobodies, and, they also do a great selection of Sudoku. I've graduated from 'Easy - pillock', through 'Moderate - smartarse' up to 'Challenging and effing bloody difficult'! Mrs S is much better than me and covers all the foibles of the 'fishtail', the 'swordfish' and the 'grunchfuttock' (you're making that up!) and many more memorable moves. She can spot a 'quad' or a 'hidden pair' at several paces, which is much more than I'm capable of in this cold weather...

But this little gem of an article on our new President (soon to eclipse Nodrog Bruin, the Loser of the West) had the poised Scrobpencil quavering with mirth, and not just a few unrequired looks from sitters-by I'm sure. It seems that the outgoing President leaves a note to the new incumbent in the top drawer of the presidential desk....

Just for the record, while I'm working the squares, my current Ipod music is David Gilmour's solo album, 'About face' and the songs are literally electric (just listen to 'Let's Get Metaphysical') - especially when I can get a five, or maybe an eight or a nine, in the bottom left squares after swooning out of Waterloo in an alcoholic haze after a long, languid and liquid lunch with a grateful estate agent...

Update...Today is the 130th anniversary of the Battle of Rorke's Drift. This calls for a large toast with a large bottle of Red; I bet they show Zulu tonight...

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rorke's_Drift

Monday, 12 January 2009

The curse of Sagtrouser...

I only went to the local Builders Merchants to buy a single brass screw.

Mr Elias Sagtrouser is a wily, yet gentle man; always ready to spot a deal, and that is what happened!

I finished up ordering 1000 brass screws, a septic tank cosy, three hectares of insulation, a set of Indonesian pelmets for the greenhouse, enough scaffolding to cover the QE2, seventy-eight planks of mahogany of various sizes, and a large flatpack kitchen, which was on offer!

Wayne Noggis, the driver, was new to the job that day, and as I idly watched the stuff being loaded from a balcony above 'Toilet bowls, Bidets and other washing comestibles' (sic), the sight as recorded below caused me to become slightly concerned...

video

Sunday, 4 January 2009

All in all, its just another brick in the...

Apropos nothing in particular, can anyone recall a story in the news a few years back, about a building in Wales where one of the walls emitted sounds which were very like a human voice?

It was a marvellous urban myth, and the diverse responses from the public ranged from ancient Celtic verse, to the strangled sounds of someone being murdered...

I don't really know why I'm posting this, there's no need for a result, but Google doesn't understand the keywords, and it is now a challenge which has to be taken up!