There you have it...

Quite some years ago, I had a discussion with my dad, which was unpleasant and not worthy of my compassion.

We here just wanted to go away on holiday in France, and escape the quandaries and problems of my work, and Mrs Scroblene's work, and our girls' school work, and we were a good team then - not much different now, but back then something was more important. We wanted to be alone.

I wanted us all in my small family, to escape to a place of refuge, and be just the four of us. Dad wanted to know where we were going as Mum wasn't that well, and he demanded the address, and on Mrs Scroblene's advice, he was told - NO! Crossness and upsetness occurred, but we seemed to have made our pitch understood, although it was not that easy.

While we were away, having a great holiday, it was my birthday, and as usual, there were loads of presents and cards and stuff, which made us all say 'hurrah', and I was the loudest voice of course, as we all enjoyed a good lunch and I had all those presents.

I cannot listen to this track without recalling such a lovely day. It was one of my gifts.

Sorry Dad, I went to Oradour-sur-Glane a few days later, on my own, leaving the family in Limoges for a short time, and you and mum had been there once, and I felt particularly vulnerable, and the song still rings...

Luvvies and politicians...

The Doily Moil has a story, well down online amongst the idiot yarns, about some luvvie called Tim Conte (wasn't he a boxer once?), moaning about being called the perfect name for an airhead whom nobody has heard of and cares little about!

I never bother with listening to any 'speech' from either a luvvie or a politician as the opposite is almost certainly true. This also applies to the BBC, and even during the brief moments that we watch the news, I often have a rage attack and need a tincture, especially at 6 o' clock...

Just because someone reads a few lines and expects an accolade is a poor reflection on life today. These persons really do need some help, and I suppose that's why they want to stay in the EU!

(Boris is the exception to all the above, as is Gove).

Scary, unpleasant person from IMF...

Blimey, they're rolling all the old harridans out now aren't they! How ever many more are there to struggle on TV to make some sort of case, cobbled together by quangos!

The BBC as usual, has no more mention of the disgraceful fiddling of immigration figures, and their lead tonight was all about a bloke who took his six- year old kid to Disneyworld during term time! It's hardly world-shattering is it, but while the old fiddlers at the various plonky remain camps still fret into their lattes and try to deceive the populace, the real answers have already been made by people who just never trust politicians and their quangos.

Scrobs is one of those, and funnily enough, as pollsters never get it right, and according to my spreadsheet, the BREXIT camp will win by at least five points, probably more.

And all that 'stay' money wasted by Cameron and his cronies will be recouped in a week when we get rid of that awful shower - legacy of Grocer Heath.

And this is Mr Hilter dear...

Trumpet recall...

When the film 'Genevieve' came out in the 1950s, there were lots of discussions on whether Kay Kendall actually played the trumpet solo in the night club scene.

My dad always told anyone who would listen, that she did in fact play the trumpet, and he would fight anyone who would disagree!

I've always believed that she could - and did play, but a little research while waiting for tincture time has shown that in fact she was miming to a Kenny Baker track!

Another myth dispelled!

But wasn't it all a fabulous film! I can watch it over again, and still come back to life with a big grin!