The 'old April'...

One of life's mysteries was solved this week!

In 'Only fools and horses', there's a scene where Delboy mentions 'The old April was pouting like a goodun'! 

There were many queries from TV watchers, puzzled looks from national figures, questions in the house, and a NATO operation to investigate the issue!

Scrobs had to diligently search for - oooh - several seconds to get the answer!

• Arse
• Bottle and glass
• Bottle
• Aristotle
• Aris
• April in Paris
• April!

So all those mis-spent seconds have revealed yet another fact to embellish these columns by another glorious result!

The ashtray...

One of my all time cricketing heroes, Derek Underwood has died.

Being here, in Kent, it wasn't difficult to support and watch the great man spinning his way to victory in so many matches, and I was always bewitched by his sessions with open-mouthed awe, seeing him on TV so often with my dad, and much later at the county ground with a pint in my hand!

When I worked for a great company in Canterbury, he had been offered his Benefit Year, and, as we had a sponsorship deal with KCCC, it meant we had a board up at the boundary, so we got quite a lot of publicity from it all as well! That Summer, we took a box in the Members' Stand, and invited several guests along, to celebrate Derek's Benefit occasion.

He made sure that he visited every sponsor and benefactor, and personally chatted with as many guests as he could! I had a lovely handwritten letter from him, thanking us all for our contributions, and for me to shake his hand on that big day, was a triumph which I will never forget.

And why the title?

One of the ground staff at Canterbury once told me that his corner of the dressing room had that name as he liked the odd smoke now and then...

He's still a hero!

R.I.P. Derek - St Paul hasn't a chance outside the off stump!

Lighting up time...

 

I know I vowed to keep the dear old Golf forever, in fact I even mentioned it here only late last year, but one or two MOT niggles appeared unannounced, and both of us also discovered that we were finding it more difficult to get in and out, the old chap being so low to the ground, so we went for something a bit higher!

The other day, I had to drive during dusk, and while idly waiting in traffic, I sat and stared at all the lights and function attributes in new Tiguan car...

After a bit of disbelief, I counted over seventy small lights, and that was including the speedometer and rev counter as only one light each!

Having recovered, I fondly remembered out old Fiat 500 c1965 - CDY 538C - which had three interior lights including the speedometer, and four if you were lucky at night...

The taxman coughing...

Exactly fifty years ago today, our elder daughter was born!

She appeared at around 2.00am, and was a healthy, quite large little lady, and her mother was understandably exhausted - and very sore! I'd been sent home as the birth was going to be difficult.

I had also been requested not to visit until later in the day, and as I had to go to work anyway, the whole visiting issue became a requirement for a little work in the morning, a huge visit to the pub at lunchtime, and then, later on, a long, long time with both the Senora, and brand new daught!

The pub visit that day produced a fabulous result - almost as good as the event itself! My boss, and some senior staff used a pub across the road for their lunchtime sessions, and they were occasionally joined by several local worthies in the same business, like architects, surveyors, and also, a local accountant. I very occasionally joined them, but really preferred to avoid too much time there, and anyway, couldn't afford the scotches and pints of JC back then, but, this time was, of course, different!

While accepting a large drink from our accountant friend, he asked me again, exactly what time our daughter was born! When I told him the time - 2.00am that day - he gave me a huge grin, guffawed immensely and exclaimed in Anglo-Saxon terms that I was the luckiest 'bugger' he'd met for ages, as I could now claim a whole year's Child Benefit, complete up to just 22 hours before the deadline! He even drafted the letter I should write on a paper serviette perched at the bar, and of course, joined me in much jollification!

Now, that refund was worth three weeks' taxed salary, and paid for an awful lot - including the big drink I bought him of course, with grateful thanks!

April evening...

 

Still stirs the soul...

...and a 13 amp plug...

 

An engineer told me before he died, aaarrrrumditty...

Understanding Engineers #1 Two engineering students were biking across a university campus when one said, "Where did you get such a great bike?" The second engineer replied, "Well, I was walking along yesterday, minding my own business, when a beautiful woman rode up on this bike, threw it to the ground, took off all her clothes and said, "Take what you want." The first engineer nodded approvingly and said, "Good choice. The clothes probably wouldn't have fit you anyway." Understanding Engineers #2 To the optimist, the glass is half-full. To the pessimist, the glass is half-empty. To the engineer, the glass is twice as big as it needs to be. Understanding Engineers #3 A priest, a doctor, and an engineer were waiting one morning for a particularly slow group of golfers. The engineer fumed, "What's with those guys? We must have been waiting for fifteen minutes!" The doctor chimed in, "I don't know, but I've never seen such inept golf!" The priest said, "Here comes the green-keeper. Let's have a word with him." He said, "Hello George, What's wrong with that group ahead of us? They're rather slow, aren't they?" The green-keeper replied, "Oh, yes. That's a group of blind firemen. They lost their sight saving our clubhouse from a fire last year, so we always let them play for free anytime." The group fell silent for a moment. The priest said, "That's so sad. I think I will say a special prayer for them tonight." The doctor said, "Good idea. I'm going to contact my ophthalmologist colleague and see if there's anything she can do for them." The engineer said, "Why can't they play at night?"   Understanding Engineers #4 What is the difference between mechanical engineers and civil engineers? Mechanical engineers build weapons. Civil engineers build targets. Understanding Engineers #5 The graduate with a science degree asks, "Why does it work?" The graduate with an engineering degree asks, "How does it work?" The graduate with an accounting degree asks, "How much will it cost?" The graduate with an arts degree asks, "Do you want fries with that?"  Understanding Engineers #6 Normal people believe that if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Engineers believe that if it ain't broke, it doesn't have enough features yet.  Understanding Engineers #7 An engineer was crossing a road one day, when a frog called out to him and said, "If you kiss me, I'll turn into a beautiful princess." He bent over, picked up the frog, and put it in his pocket. The frog spoke up again and said, "If you kiss me, I'll turn back into a beautiful princess and stay with you for one week." The engineer took the frog out of his pocket, smiled at it and returned it to the pocket. The frog then cried out, "If you kiss me and turn me back into a princess, I'll stay with you for one week and do anything you want." Again, the engineer took the frog out, smiled at it and put it back into his pocket. Finally, the frog asked, "What is the matter? I've told you I'm a beautiful princess and that I'll stay with you for one week and do anything you want. Why won't you kiss me?" The engineer said, "Look, I'm an engineer. I don't have time for a girlfriend, but a talking frog - now that's cool." Understanding two engineers #8 Two engineers were standing at the base of a flagpole, looking at its top. A woman walked by and asked what they were doing. "We're supposed to find the height of this flagpole," said Steven, "but we don't have a ladder." The woman took a wrench from her purse, loosened a couple of bolts, and laid the pole down on the ground. Then she took a tape measure from her pocketbook, took a measurement, announced, "Twenty-one feet, six inches," and walked away. One engineer shook his head and laughed. "A lot of good that does us. We ask for the height and she gives us the length!" Both engineers have since quit their engineering jobs and are currently serving in Parliament.

 

The smoothing of the boards...

Quite a few years ago, a rookie surveyor Scrobs was working on a sceme for a client, who turned out to be Andrew Timothy, better known as the Producer of The Goon Shows, but that's not the story. His builder was knocking two cottages into one, and we were there just to make sure he wasn't being ripped off!

Just the other day, I was flicking rough some local adverts, and noticed a company which operates a sanding device to clean up old wooden floors, and then reseal them! This work sure makes a better effect than the laminates and fake plastic stuff around these days, and I pondered on why I was remembering the detail from these two cottages - for some considerable time, I might say!

It turned out to be the flooring from a Nissen Hut that was being used! 

Now this seems a bit mundane, but thinking back, when these huts were originally built as temporary accomodation, storage buildings etc, they came in all shapes and sizes, and also with flooring varying from concrete to timber! The materials would have been pretty robust, despite their Spartan appearance!

It turned out that the flooring being used here was indeed beech planking from an old hut, which had been lifted and stored for reuse at some stage. The bulder had lovingly relaid the boards, and then applied a sander to the whole area, and, because there were imperfections, dents, holes, etc., the effect was absolutely stunning, as there was still some sign of the original usage, while the 'raised' areas were taken back to a new state! I wish I'd taken a picture of the result, but didn't even have a camera, so that was never going to happen!

Even these days, whenever old timber becomes available, I keep some back - like some beech pieces from a couple of pallets I rescued a couple of months ago, and have even started to try out the Black and Decker sander...

Scrobs doesn't pull it off...

The other day, Scrobs attended a memorial service for the husband of an old friend. In fact, my friend had been a flat-mate of my dear sister's, and whenever I stayed in London for exams, interviews etc., I would kip down in their place and use my lady-chum's bed during the night, as she was a nurse on nights at the hospital! She would arrive home about the time I left and sleep through the day, but sadly, never the twain would meet...

The church was packed to the rafters! My departed chum had been a local farmer with a family history going back centuries, so it wasn't unreasonable to expect the two-hundred-plus members of the local community to turn up and see him off!

Now, I knew parking would be a problem, so I arranged with a daughter, who lives in the village, to drop off the car in her drive, and walk to the church, which was about half a mile away. It was a lovely afternoon with brilliant sunshine and the walk was certainly the right thing to do as there were still cars circling and looking for spaces up to a few minutes before the service!

I found the last seat in the pew right at the back, so could see nothing, and it was a rousing service with several laughs and a few sad moments, but on the whole the crowd behaved themselves and eventually got ready to leave the church, which took half an hour, as the family, quite rightly, wanted to meet everyone! I walked back to the car and had an extended chat with my daughter and eventually got away to the reception which was going on a couple of miles away!

The car park was solid! I was in fact the last visitor to get there and managed to park some way away and walked into room absolutely bulging with friends and relatives, all chatting at high volume. There was an international loose scrum of about twenty people at the bar, so a drink was going to be a challenge too!

So Scrobs decided to walk away...

Back in my working days, I would relish the thought of arriving at a function where hundreds of friends, acquaintances, strangers, in fact anyone, were in a similar situation, as networking was in its infancy, and I would be making damned sure that I met as many people as possible, because that was part of my job! But here, after many years of retirement, I just couldn't hack it! I would only have known my friend and her two sons whom I'd met a couple of times, and for the first time in many years, Scrobs was overwhelmed and daunted!

Can't remember ever feeling like that before...

1812 revisited...

 

I don't think I can ever remember my dad laughing as loud as when this piece was broadcast in 1967! He just had hysterics and exploded in great guffaws at every part of each scene!

Even now, I can still laugh at some of the parts, but remembering the mirth we all experienced nearly sixty years ago brings a huge grin to this ol' face!

Slide rule...

Scrobs has now read everything that Nevil Shute wrote, from his very first story, to his autobiography, 'Slide rule', which I finished yesterday...

Now there was one man I really would have wanted to meet! 

'Slide rule' describes all his working life in the airship and aeroplane business, from an unpaid job with de Havilland to Managing Director of Airspeed Ltd. When he was at Vickers, his close involvement with the design and development of the R100 was the commercial version of the sister ship, the R101. Both were commisioned by the Air Ministry, and Nevil Shute Norway's company was the privately organised concern, operating out of Howden, Yorkshire, while the other airship was being designed and built by government contractors at Cardington, Bedfordshire.

I need not go into the detail, because it is obvious almost from day one, that Shute's company's design was going to be superior, mainly because of interference and even ignorance from the ministry at most stages, and he pulls no punches when he descibes the pomposity and arrogance of the officials who were administering the whole project. In fact, his narrative almost spills out in anger when he describes later dealings with the powers that be in Whitehall - rather like we experience nowadays, but without the drawing board...

My mum, who was born in a village near Cardington, remembered going down and watching the work on the airship, and I wish I'd asked her more about it all!

The whole story is riveting, and, like his novels, there's a fabulous, heart-warming twist in the end!

They don't want your name, they want your number...

The Mail has this short article, which enlightens the soul...

Some years ago, a friend entered our room at the office laughing his head off!

He'd seen a car with the number PHA 111C...

I always wanted a 'normal number plate' which would reflect my yearning for an earlier time of life, when we all took number plates seriously, and indeed, often camped out on the roadside, making lists of all the numbers of vehicles which passed by! Well, it beat watching videos on YouTube back then!

I once saw a number on a police car in Eastbourne which was my dad's old number - RAP 138! I waited for ages to tell the cop, but he never appeared!

Car, van and lorry numbers these days don't have the character of the older ones, like anything the government touches! Tradition gets shoved away to make things easier for the computers which were made to make things easier for the increased numbers of people employed to flick over the keys on them and help plod to identify the culprits and then report them, via computer to - oh sod it - who knows...

Spot on really...

 

Guess who's coming to dinner...

The other night, Ian Payne, who handles the 4.00am - 7.00am slot for LBC, covered a phone-in subject which seemed very interesting.

If slumbering isn't on the cards, I'll switch on the AirPods, and listen to a few sessions when he's on, because he's a pleasant sort of chap on air, knows his sport backwards, and is probably someone I'd like to chat with in a pub if he lived down the road!

The subject he mentioned was, 'If you could ask a few people to dinner - either present or past, who would you invite to your home"? It's not a new concept, but always interesting as there'll be the usual names like Margaret Thatcher, Queen Elizabeth, Jimmy Page etc., and he treats all his callers and texters equally, giving them a chance, (if on the phone), to explain why!

As I still couldn't sleep, I set myself to thinking whom I'd like to meet on such an occasion, and suddenly had a lightbulb moment - I'd like to see my dad and uncles again, and also my grandfather, whom I'd never met, as he died in 1940. It seemed a signal sort of revelation, and I've begun to think it through in some detail, as we all had something in common, which is/was building, construction and development!

My dad knew most of what I was doing when he popped off, and my uncles knew some sort of work I was up to, although it was different at the time they died. We could always chat about various aspects of the business when I was much younger. But I'd love to hear how my grandfather managed his business back in the nineteen-twenties. He was very successful then, with a thriving company, many of his own properties and employing over fifty people in Letchworth, Herts.

And more to the point, how would my grandfather talk to his three sons? Would he tell them where they could have done this or that, and would they answer back? And also, would they ask him how he fared after he lost simply everything during the depression in the 1920s, and had to start all over again! His three sons knew all about that of course, but I only have memories of discussions and some notes left by one of my uncles!

It's an absorbing conundrum, and I still haven't got very many questions I'd like to ask. I'd also like to tell them that I also made a few quid, not perhaps as much as they did, but I married successfully, provided for the family, am still living a pretty varied and happy life and could assure them that they didn't go too far wrong in begetting their next generations - I think...

Best Divorce Letter Ever...

Dear Wife,

I am writing this letter to let you know that I am leaving you forever. In our seven years of marriage, the truth is that I have been a good husband to you and I have absolutely nothing from that.

These last couple of weeks have been really hard for me. Your boss told me that you left your job just today and that, well that was the final straw.

Two weeks ago, when you came home after work, you did not even notice that I had cooked your favorite dish, I had a brand new haircut or a new pair of boxers.

You just ate for a couple of minutes, you watched all of your soaps and went straight to bed. The truth is that you don’t care about me, you don’t tell me you love me anymore, and you don’t touch me or anything.

Either you do not love me anymore, or you’re cheating on me, no matter in which case, I have to say it’s over and I’m leaving.

Your Ex-husband

P.S. Please, do not try to find me. Your sister Carla and I are moving to West Yorkshire together! Wish you the best and I hope you have a great life!

................

Dear Ex-Husband,

Believe me one thing. Getting your letter really made my day perfect. Yes, we have been married for seven years, but a good husband is completely different from what you have been.

Yes, I watch TV shows, but I do it because the soaps drown out your nonstop griping and whining, but this doesn’t seem to work.

And yes, I noticed your brand new haircut, but the first thing I thought was that you look like a girl. And you know I was raised not to say anything in case I cannot say something nice.

That’s why I decided not to speak about it or comment on your haircut. When you made my favourite dish, you must have gotten me mixed with my lovely sister, since I stopped consuming pork seven years ago.

When it comes to your new boxers, I didn’t comment since you still had the £49.80 price tag on them and I hoped that it was a coincidence that my lovely sister Carla had borrowed £50 from me the same day.

But even after all, I still cared about you and I loved you, and I believed that we might make this work. So, when I got lucky on the Lottery for 15 million pounds, what I did was quit my job and bought us two tickets to Hawaii.

But, by the time I got home you were already gone. I guess there is a reason for everything. I genuinely hope that you will have the life you always desired.

Moreover, according to my lawyer, the letter you sent me ensures that you won’t get a penny from what I've got now. So, there is nothing more to say but take care.

Your Ex-Wife – Free, and Rich

P.S. I believe I haven’t told you this, but my lovely sister Carla was actually born as Carl. I hope that is no issue for you.

Time table...

This song cropped up in the car the other day, and while it is still a favourite album of mine, I've never really wondered about the lyrics, which now seem to come alive a bit more!

When our parents eventually popped off, we inherited several pieces of furniture, and to this day, we still use the dining table and chairs from my mum and dad's house. I can remember sitting on the chairs when they were at my grandfather's house - The 'White Hart' pub in Campton, near Shefford, and as for the table, my paternal grandfather made it in the nineteen-twenties as his desk for the family firm!

But what amazes me, is that nowadays, I need a cushion to get up to eating level! 

So, back when I was six or seven, I was possibly looking at the table from nearly a foot lower, so would have been eating my egg which would have been on a level with my nose! At Christmas, the whole extended family would sit around it to play 'Brag' - for half-pennies too! I'll have to ask my dear sister if I was ever allowed to have a cushion back then...

Required reading cock-up...

I'm trying to update the recent posts list, and Blogger won't let me change the names! I type in the names, and the URLs, then it won't let me save them - or delete them!

Does anyone know why this is please - I use Blogger of course!

Any ideas anyone...?

Log on, then log on again...

Since October last year - in fact also during the winter of 2022/3, Scrobs has been amassing a huge woodpile for the open fire at The Turrets! These logs are essential to counteract the ridiculous scare-scam about global grilling, as it gets quite cold in the living room at this time of year!

Over several years, logs have cost up to £100.00 a load, which is about nine or ten barrow loads. We've usually had them from a friend, who is a tree surgeon, and also a trader in these barn-stored pieces around this time of year, and they are a joy to burn! The norm has been two or three loads each season.

But for the last two winters, The Turrets has had the benefit of the generosity of another chum, who lives not far from here. He has been steadily upgrading his (already) large home, and clearing a sizeable estate of failing yew and beech trees, which were in a parlous condition. The trees have been cut to suit an open fire, and have been stored in those big square bags under tarpaulins. There must have been an original pile of about thirty of these bags - and he'd just decided to get rid of his log-burner!

So, even after my friend had placed an advert in the local rag for 'Free Firewood', amazingly, only one man noticed it, and called round! He was duly rewarded with as much as he could carry in his new BMW, and for some reason, he also decided to drive into a telegraph pole, but that wasn't planned at all!

So these piles of wood remained untouched for two or three years!

Scrobs was walking Lily the hound one morning, and bumped into our arboreal philanthropist, who realised that Scrobs did indeed have an open fire, and would I like to avail myself of a few loads! Well, the answer could be nothing but a hasty 'Yes Please'!

So, there have been twenty-odd journeys in the Golf, (duly protected with a huge dust sheet), and a resulting load during each visit of around a dozen to fifteen, full plastic bags for the woodshed! It is a labour of love, as each bag would have cost a few quid in Tesco, and probably a bit less from our normal supplier, but Hellfire, what is two hours of hard labour when there's a saving of about £70.00 a pop!

So it's a public 'Thank you', Darren! I hope our return gifts each Christmas have maintained the time-honoured matter of some sort of alcoholic recognition of such generosity, and we're very grateful to see such a huge saving on our heating bills!

 

Jam today...

 

Scrobs is in the middle of a new craze...

While gardening takes a bit of a back seat around now, the inventive juices look for alternatives, and bread-making has surfaced as a likely contender. It's rather pleasant knowing that one's daily bread has none of the chemical additives with long scientific names, and the scent is overpowering! It also makes fabulous toast!

But, an alternative use is making marmalade, and that really is a challenge which is well worth exploring! I spotted a tray of Seville oranges in Waitrose the other day, and the old brain cells sort of clicked into place, with a recollection that I had a programme on the machine that made jam, and sure enough, it does the business!

The first batch looked as though it hadn't set, so on advice from the 'net' I gave it another hour, which turned a pleasant orange mess into a solid black mess! The spoon bounced off the top, and although I had to loosen it all and dilute it, I finished up with a very strong, dark brown concoction, which actually tastes quite nice!

So, back to the original recipe, and paying more attention to advice, the second and third batches have proved to be pretty damn good, although I say it myself!

Today's the last day of manufacture. I'll finish up with about eight or nine jars of the orange nectar, which should last until around 2026...