Talking of positions, as we were in the last post, for which I'd like to thank the perpetrators of the three hundred comments, all of which received a reply, and a picture of Scrobs in his rose bower, I was reminded of a small fact.
After Douglas Bader had his awful flying accident and recovered, with the help of De Soutter, to be able to walk and fly again, it was rumoured that one of the reasons that he played golf so well, (after falling over at the forst few shots), was that he had a special left leg made, so that he could make his shots as if he was continually playing uphill!
While my golf skills petered out during the summer of 1968, when an air-shot on the ninth in Tenterden drew exasperation from my playing partner, and a realisation from yours truly, that this was never ever going to be my game, and I'd play better rugby and enjoy beer more, I can well understand the logic of an inch off a leg at the appropriate time!
I had a niggling ache in my hip a few years ago, and the physio found that, like most people, my limbs were anything but level in the standing position...(no, not the Edinburgh one). I was half an inch too few as Peter Cook might have enjoyed saying!
My friend Gordon had a special shoe insert made for the same 'problem', at the vast cost of about £75, while I made my own balancing lift with some strips of leather from an old briefcase, stuck together with double-sided Sellotape, and it cost me zilch!
And I now can't remember why I started this post, so will let you decide the ending, if indeed there ever was one...
6 comments:
Even with the late afternoon sun shining directly into my eyes I see yet another spelling error, so I'm satisfied you are now regaining your usual and delightful persona, though I haven't a clue where the origins of your post came from. Maybe you had a dream about flying or got teed-off during the twilight hours, but others more wise than me will have other more pertinent and /or appropriate suggestions. As for me, this afternoon I've partook several G's & T then went into my greenhouse to sow some more seeds. Yes I labelled them correctly but OH's sausages and mash is calling me so I came back in and had another one. Mea culpa, but I'll have to leave you pondering as I must have another look at Wickham's 1912 plan and his excavation notes of the Cockersand Abbey Chapter-House including a sketch of the west elevation.
Perhaps the post was going to end by giving us more detail about that mysterious briefcase. Bought for a pound at a church jumble sale it seemed like an ordinary leather briefcase until that fateful day when it was cut up to make shoe inserts.
Concealed inside the briefcase was a top secret government memo. Naturally enough and in accordance with British tradition a government briefcase containing a top secret document had ended up in a church jumble sale. Hardly remarkable and a common enough occurrence but the contents of the memo were interesting.
It concerned the likely infiltration of many high level government positions by extraterrestrials disguised as humans, or rather disguised as bureaucrats. They had been trained to make a subtle mess of government business, a deliberate act of alien sabotage. Unsurprisingly the memo concluded that it didn’t really matter because nobody seemed to notice anyway. If anything, bureaucratic alien vandals were more competent than the real thing.
Was that one of those WikiLeaks jobbies which hitherto is still unknown by the great British public? If so, it does explain quite a lot of various opinions about the government such as not being on this planet, using a type of language where its interpretation would baffle any renowned linguistic professor, not getting used to the force of gravity because they've been so long in space that they haven't yet come down to earth and then a) they couldn't give a monkeys what life on earth is really like and b) I've been programmed to say no to anything unless there's something in it for me, and lastly "Beam me up Scottie. I don't want to wear those heavy necklaces ever again."
Goosey, the G and T must have worked, as I can understand what you mean now!
I'm afraid our respective spouses may have to let free the dogs of war, and we meet up in some hidey-hole, far from the madding crowd, on cloud 9, etc etc, and sort all this out!
How about next Thursday, in Waitrose, by the Camembert? Something squidgey could well provide the answer to an 'as yet' conundrum...
Godalmighty, Mr H!
You have stumbled upon our cunning plan, and as such are now destined to watch the entire series of 'New Tricks', which Mrs Senora Madame O'Blene and I are hugely enjoying, as Jack Halford has finally seen Ricky Hanson banged up tonight!
On the Jack Daniels as we speak, it's a great night, and the births column may well get a few surprises in a couple of months' time...
(In your dreams, Sunshine...)!
Ingenious!
Hi Scrobs, I've forgotten how to make a post but at least I found a way back in to blogspot. Yay! Hope you are well x
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