Grandad...

Scrobs is a normal bloke.

Being the latest exulted member of the cultural experts of Martin Scriblerus, I'm enabled to see the writings of many posters, who are far more interesting than me, but I wish to bring the attention to everyone who knows this ol' grey head, to Grandad's site.

He's having a crap time. Herself is in need of care, in a bed, far away from her home, his dear dog Penny ended her days last week, and now he's got some serious decisions to make about how he's going to deal with the next several weeks.

Throughout today, I've felt really miserable about our friend's predicament - it could suddenly occur with any of us, but about now, at an age when things can sometimes start to go wrong, I want to be with the guy, chat with him, have a glass of whiskey with him,  and generally do what old Scrobs do under the circumstances.

I've cried for you today, Grandad, you have to beat the shit out of all this...

Painted green...

Around 1973, soon after Scrobs and Senora O'Blene plighted their various troths, the rugby club was becoming second, or even ninth in our lifestyles, and pretty soon I would be giving up the game...

But around then, as the club still had a thriving singing culture after each match, we decided to prepare a 'cabaret' for the Annual Ball. I had several friends who wanted to contribute, so around seven of us collected a script of some sort which included a few songs as well!

One chum was a Welsh teacher, and as he was a big fan of Max Boyce, he knew all the words to his songs! We incorporated several of these songs in the programme, and one particular song has always stuck out in this ol' grey head, as I've never heard it sung live - still haven't in fact...

But I've only just found the actual words we used!

Thanks to Will Garood, he has reproduced the whole song HERE and I can now remember the lines in all their glory, with my 12 string guitar belting out the chords, and a bunch of drunken hooligans my fellow troubadours singing their hearts out!

My chum Paul, tactfully avoided explaining why, as the comments show on Will's piece, that one of the lines wasn't as printed at the end of the first verse, they were supposed to be as Maldwyn said in the comments!

So you can see why I never understood that line, and now I know!

(Actually, I still have the original script, all crossed out and altered, and without the words to the songs sadly, together with a reel-to-reel tape copy of the dress rehearsal, all wrapped up in the roof...)

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

Thank you Will, I hope you don't mind me crediting you with this gem!

The stuff of life...

 

I don't really know why, but of late, I've been buying bread, and instead of just using it until it gets a bit stale, I've been freezing it in four-slice bags and taking them out as we need them.

A loaf of Hovis costs around £1.40, and that works out at around 7p a slice. If anyone had told me when I was a kid, that each sandwich with the butter and a bit of cheese I devoured would be costing around seven bob in old money in the future, I'd never have believed them!

So probably, I do know why I freeze those crumbs...