Sad old git...

I really am becoming a sad old git.

No, I really mean it!

Today, I caught a train after 9.00am, as it saves my old firm money, and, by then, I’ve already done a couple of hours work at home, (which we all do in our incredibly successful enterprise - I wish...).

Now, I’m with the majority of normal people, that hates other people eating crisps with their mouths open, gabbling into mobiles incessantly (I do make the odd call, but I promise, I speak softly), shouting stupid rock-ape statements to their mates etc. We’ve all had to put up with this.

But today, I discovered a new disturbance - or even unpleasantness. For years, Southern Rail, (or whatever they call themselves now), had those awful trains, which used to leak water/draft/smell, and, at long last, they’ve replaced them with some quite nice new carriages. The usual yobs have stuck chewing gum in awkward places, and scratched names (those who can write that is), on some windows, but generally, things are nicer now, and the trip is reasonably pleasant.

But today, I became unreasonably pissed off by the most ridiculous action even I could dream up!

A lad got on the train at the station after me. I was sitting in one of the pairs of seats, which are built like those in buses; i.e. all point forward, and you don’t need to sit opposite a gorgeous blonde (help...), or a Stella drinking crisp crunching oaf.

The lad chose a seat to my left, on the other side of the central reservation.

Fine.

But he sat sideways, so he was facing me all the time!

Now, to those who know me, I only get cross when provoked beyond 32 alcoholic units, but this journey was uncomfortable, irritating, mildly paranoid, and, to be frank, I wanted to yell at him to sit straight and behave.

The lad carefully bought his ticket from the guard, he didn’t talk on his mobile phone, he sometimes even turned round in his seat the proper way! Then turned round and sat facing me…sideways again! I became incandescent and began early palpitations - well slight twinges from the gussett...

When we got off at London Bridge, the lad was also getting off there, and I began to fume again, expecting a charge in front of me. As we queued to get to the doors, he incredibly politely, smilingly indicated for me to get off before him.

Oh bugger, I am getting so old…

Sensible idea...

This must be the innovation of the century!

Where can you buy these things?

Veg Wars.

What with Mr D.C.Warmington’s discussion regarding the pain inflicted on vegetables when they are picked – one correspondent even referred to the ‘Silence of the lettuce’ - and our own situation with considering growing cucumbers and courgettes from hanging baskets, (a practice Mrs S has strongly forbidden), I have been devastated to see Mutley’s picture of his salsify from last November.

This is a superb vegetable. Mutley did splendidly, as it is very difficult to grow well. The soil has to be in perfect un-manured condition, before the little blighters care to germinate in their own time and grow in a straight line both vertically, and horizontally!

The most horrific element of eating salsify, is that however tenderly it is pulled from the soil, it ‘bleeds’, and immediately turns black! I have seen wizened gardeners weep deluges of tears as their treasured crops become readers of The Sun, and ‘phew’ everywhere!

So now we have ‘The Great Lettuce Carnage’, ‘Potato Slaughter on 10th allotment’, and now ‘Salsify Massacre – a suitable case for treatment’.

Walkies - try scorer...

Mrs S and I have just returned from an afternoon walk (drag uphill thank goodness), with new dog.

Our route took us through some fantastic woodland and then we decided to traverse the local playing fields.

At one important stage, I realised that when I was a true sports hero, I could run most of the length of a rugby pitch without too much discomfort. Indeed, against Dover one year, (first match of the season), I was forced into having to run from my own 25 yd line and score. This was an oversight in my training programme, as I was not normally meant to do such things at this time of year.

Today, as the dog took a small rest at a spot roughly at the same position that I had to commence my immortal try-scoring run, the posts at the other end seemed so small, that my glasses misted up with the memory, and I had to lean on Mrs S for comfort.

Do distances cheat us when we get towards late middle age?

Or was I just a fitter and more eager man then?

Looking up...

Tuscan Tony's engineer brother mentioned that the best way to see London is to look up, as the facades on the streets will change, but the upper storeys will stay roughly the same as they were when they were built.

I agree with that!

At the risk of sounding like Prince Charles, many of the buildings put up since the nineteen-twenties, lack the care, style and detail of their predecessors.

I reckon that the architects of some of the monstrosities designed in the nineteen-sixties and seventies, (the most underdemolished period in commercial design), should be made to pay for their removal, and never allowed near a building site again. Luckily, they don't get away with that sort of thing any more.

However, I still have palpitations in the gussett region, when I recall looking up seeing chaps casually sitting on the parapets in Regent St, when I (with millions of others), cheered the World Cup Rugby team's bus tour!

New word needed

I am struggling to answer this question!

Is there a single verb to describe the actions of someone walking along a pavement in London, or any other city for that matter, when that person casually/frantically retrieves a mobile phone from a part of their body or clothing; stares at it enigmatically, often purses the lips, then puts it back from whence it was retrieved.

There is never a sound from either the machine or it’s owner.

The action spells despair, hope for unrequited love, position in a hierarchy, peer gropu pressure, insecurity in their society…

I wish I knew, as the word hasn’t been invented yet.

International disaster

Elektro Kevin quite rightly asserts his wisdom here: -

‘Have you ever considered posting some porn, Scrobs ?

What is so sad, is that when I put this post on, it was the most important thing I'd read up to then! As it was a bank holiday, all routine went out the window, and by midday, a cooling glass of white was at my elbow in no time at all.

Mrs S had the paper first; I was reading a book of old local photographs (I know the author well) and was contemplating a refill. After several of these, I had to make some sort of comment and interrupted Mrs S, which can on occasions, cause a battle royal.

The shop window comment became more and more of an impending disaster and blossomed into a national tragedy. All other news paled into insignificance! It even started raining!

After lunch, the inevitable happened; the item was copied carefully into the correct box. (typing with one eye of course). The news just had to be relayed to the one person whom I knew would read it and respond with passion.

And he did, bless…