Instructions for alcohol...

As Scrobs sips his way through a dismal January, he wonders why suddenly he is even more of a pariah than last year!

Why am I being told by a little white-coat from some backside like Oldham, that I need to stop the slurps for two days a week, and even then, cut the numbers of slurps! Why aren't I being told to do all this by some hugely-paid bureaucrat in Brussels? Something to do with the monks of Leffe maybe?

Surely, there is a large section of some glittering building somewhere in the EU, where huge payments are made to people to decide what to do with the results of an Excel spreadsheet, divided by the number of breweries and wine-lake administrators, and come up with a figure to scream at normal people like Scrobs and Mrs Scroblene.

Little politicians with huge salaries never realise that whatever they say creates a market, although they should understand, but hey, what the hell, they're paid by the state, so it doesn't matter does it! You only have to look at the globule worming scandal to see where they have got it so wrong, and lets all check the websites of fat companies who saw that one coming as soon as some creep with a few votes decided to try and make a difference, and failed...

So if you really want to be told how much wine you're allowed, start in December! Any takers? No, I thought not!

Pole expedition...

Scrobs - and Mrs Scroblene - have decided not to be involved with any North or South Pole expeditions.

It has been a difficult decision, we were all ready with padded jackets, big boots, a warm coat for JRT, and all the trimmings like lemon juice and sugar sweeties, but it came home to us just today...

It's just too damn cold!

We passed the village pond which was iced over, and had the two resident ducks retired to a quiet corner under the trees, and there was the resident feeder, chucking bread all over the place for the ducks, and the rats, and the seagulls, all of which meant that we were not ready for cold weather!

I leaked from the eyes. the nose, the ears, and also dribbled because the temperature was 0 degrees...

Not good for future years, although JRT liked bouncing among the snow, until she realised it was so bloody cold and possibly affected the unmentioneables...

The previous network...

Last evening, I had to attend a local meeting to ask if something or other could be done by my local council.

When I arrived with a chum, we sat and listened to a presentation by a big builder, to get support for some houses a couple of miles away. I'd actually seen the drawings in the local offices, and thought they looked pretty good, but wasn't aware that the builder - a national name, would also be tugging his forelock to the council members, who were all arrayed in a big semi-circle.

When he was in full flow, I suddenly recognised him from way back, and after the meeting, we had a nice friendly chat and I wished him luck etc, and we went our separate ways!

But for the life of me, I couldn't remember his name...

In the old days, I'd have been, Tom this and Jack that, and Marie the other (watch it), but this time I was really stumped, and wandered out of the meeting in a bit of a daze!

It comes with retirement no doubt...

Dynamo boy...

When Scrobs was a real squit about sixty years ago, he was given his first bike. It was a Hercules Jeep, and had been though several owners, but to a budding Scrobs it was a passport to travel anywhere within a ten mile radius of the Senior Scrobs Turrets!

It had those funny bar brakes, not cables, and a saddle which was so highly sprung that even then, I found I knew a lot about girls and children an' all that...

This dear old bike was eventually sold for £2.10s, and some time after, my parents surprised me with a brand new bike for my birthday, which was a Triumph Palm Beach - very like this one,

...and it had three gears too! I used to dream about going up hills on a whim, and those magical words 'Sturmey Archer' were imprinted on my brain with a fire brand! I'd dream of several hills being ridden at speed, and believe it or not, I can still recall a dream about one small stretch of hill, which I could show you to this day!

That Christmas, I was also mightily happy to receive a real dynamo light kit for this bike. It was the state of the art, and whirred for several years, until a 50cc moped became a requirement on a certain birthday. I have a dynamo light on my bike these days, and it isn't burnished aluminium, but it still works - until I stop, which is a bit of an insight into life really...