Many, many years ago, Scrobs was a long way from home at school.
Dad would sometimes be able to get there on the exeat Sundays, but not very often, but when he did, he was usually very tired, and needed a rest like anyone does after driving three hundred miles after work!
One Sunday, he'd arrived on time, and we went to some place for lunch, but later, he succumbed to the requirement for a nap, and let me stay in the car, while he unrolled a blanket and took forty winks under the trees.
These two songs were on the car wireless, and they're as memorable today as they were back in the sixties....
https://youtu.be/COkOmvr9c3c
https://youtu.be/uzdzQsim-Ac
Thursday, 13 August 2015
Thursday, 6 August 2015
Paint your wagon...
Just round the corner from The Turrets, there are two painting projects going on.
Kent seems to have more than its fair share of white weatherboarded houses, which may be down to the fact that The Weald was all forest many years ago, and timber was plentiful, but anyway, we're surrounded by white weatherboard in all directions, and it all has to be painted! Regularly! The local planners even demanded that we had to use white painted woodwork, when we did up the house twenty years ago, and although we grumbled a bit, it was in fact a correct decision.
Scrobs has had varying discussions with the chaps doing the work (two separate firms), and it's interesting to hear their views on what they're up to. Personally, I would think that preparing and painting weatherboard would be one of the most boring decorating jobs in the world, but these guys seem to thrive on the pastime...
Just think what a Monday morning would be like, when you have a ladder, a couple of sheets of sandpaper, and a whole week of manually rubbing down about fifty square yards of dodgy timber, before you even start to slap on the undercoat!
Anyway, they're making a great fist of the work, and the local environment will look all the better for their efforts...
Kent seems to have more than its fair share of white weatherboarded houses, which may be down to the fact that The Weald was all forest many years ago, and timber was plentiful, but anyway, we're surrounded by white weatherboard in all directions, and it all has to be painted! Regularly! The local planners even demanded that we had to use white painted woodwork, when we did up the house twenty years ago, and although we grumbled a bit, it was in fact a correct decision.
Scrobs has had varying discussions with the chaps doing the work (two separate firms), and it's interesting to hear their views on what they're up to. Personally, I would think that preparing and painting weatherboard would be one of the most boring decorating jobs in the world, but these guys seem to thrive on the pastime...
Just think what a Monday morning would be like, when you have a ladder, a couple of sheets of sandpaper, and a whole week of manually rubbing down about fifty square yards of dodgy timber, before you even start to slap on the undercoat!
Anyway, they're making a great fist of the work, and the local environment will look all the better for their efforts...
Wednesday, 29 July 2015
Local bubble...
Mrs Scroblene and Scrobs were invited to a chum's house recently, for a few sherberts and prawn things It was a delightful evening, with several friends chatting in the lovely garden, and refills occurring at regular intervals.
Since I left the business networking circuits to their own devices, I sort of approach meeting people differently now. There is no pressure for a 'result', (i.e. a chance to get some business), I can be at ease with whatever subject crops up, and, better still, I have Mrs Scroblene to bounce discussions off at will, whereas in the past, I had to think for myself, which is unnerving after three bottles in Finos!
On this occasion, the glasses were full, the smoked salmon flying around, and all was well. But Mrs Scroblene, later on, told me that she had experienced what I occasionally had to put up with back in the smoky wine bars. (No not a groper...)!
It was the 'person who stands too close'! (A lady chum this time).
We've known - let's call her Dagmar - for years, but whenever we've seen her, she is wrestling with unruly dogs, which always cause JRT to raise her hackles and show various teeth, so all our discussions have been at a distance of several yards. We like Dagmar, she's very articulate and good looking - even across a busy road at dog-lead-length, with a gorgeous daughter who recently got married, so she seems to play by the rules as well.
But Dagmar wanted to talk at length to Mrs Scroblene and others, and every time she did, she stepped closer for some reason, and Mrs Scroblene had to step back. Her space had been invaded, I nearly had to rescue her from a flower bed next door, and it was unusual to realise that this sort of thing still happens! One's 'bubble' is endangered, and even if the invader is an old chum, it's still not a social grace is it!
There used to be a bloke on the circuit in London, who got so close - with everyone - that he was feared in case he actually managed to get behind you by sort of morphing through you, so you'd have to carry on the conversation through the back of your head!
Anyway, all was well after the bubble was restored and Dagmar went off to stand on someone else's toes and bellow instructions...
Since I left the business networking circuits to their own devices, I sort of approach meeting people differently now. There is no pressure for a 'result', (i.e. a chance to get some business), I can be at ease with whatever subject crops up, and, better still, I have Mrs Scroblene to bounce discussions off at will, whereas in the past, I had to think for myself, which is unnerving after three bottles in Finos!
On this occasion, the glasses were full, the smoked salmon flying around, and all was well. But Mrs Scroblene, later on, told me that she had experienced what I occasionally had to put up with back in the smoky wine bars. (No not a groper...)!
It was the 'person who stands too close'! (A lady chum this time).
We've known - let's call her Dagmar - for years, but whenever we've seen her, she is wrestling with unruly dogs, which always cause JRT to raise her hackles and show various teeth, so all our discussions have been at a distance of several yards. We like Dagmar, she's very articulate and good looking - even across a busy road at dog-lead-length, with a gorgeous daughter who recently got married, so she seems to play by the rules as well.
But Dagmar wanted to talk at length to Mrs Scroblene and others, and every time she did, she stepped closer for some reason, and Mrs Scroblene had to step back. Her space had been invaded, I nearly had to rescue her from a flower bed next door, and it was unusual to realise that this sort of thing still happens! One's 'bubble' is endangered, and even if the invader is an old chum, it's still not a social grace is it!
There used to be a bloke on the circuit in London, who got so close - with everyone - that he was feared in case he actually managed to get behind you by sort of morphing through you, so you'd have to carry on the conversation through the back of your head!
Anyway, all was well after the bubble was restored and Dagmar went off to stand on someone else's toes and bellow instructions...
Saturday, 18 July 2015
Birthday musings...
It's my birthday tomorrow, and I will be sixty-eight!
It's a funny decade, the sixties; you really wonder at some stages how you got this far, and if you'd carried on smoking, might you still be here? Possibly not after a dreadful pipe-smoking habit!
Is an active retirement going well (yes), but if we'd moved to a smaller place, would we still have the same interests without a garden and an allotment which demand constant attention? Definitely no!
Is smugness setting in? Not really, but then maybe we've been lucky - I definitely have!
Do I miss getting out on the circuit to meet business chums? Only after considering the first bottle, from then on, it became a bit of a lottery on what was achieved...
I suppose most posters here are younger, so will have all these questions to face themselves, but I think even getting to sixty-eight is some sort of achievement, so thank you, someone...
It's a funny decade, the sixties; you really wonder at some stages how you got this far, and if you'd carried on smoking, might you still be here? Possibly not after a dreadful pipe-smoking habit!
Is an active retirement going well (yes), but if we'd moved to a smaller place, would we still have the same interests without a garden and an allotment which demand constant attention? Definitely no!
Is smugness setting in? Not really, but then maybe we've been lucky - I definitely have!
Do I miss getting out on the circuit to meet business chums? Only after considering the first bottle, from then on, it became a bit of a lottery on what was achieved...
I suppose most posters here are younger, so will have all these questions to face themselves, but I think even getting to sixty-eight is some sort of achievement, so thank you, someone...
Friday, 10 July 2015
Tunisia yarn...
Well, there we was, 'aving a great toime wiv some mates, an' then some bloke from the Embassy said we should pack our bags an' go 'ome!
Whaaaat!
We've only juss' go' ere' and nobody told us that vere wos a problem!
Whoy weren't we towld...!
Oi mean, know what oi mean, whaaa......
Whaaaat!
We've only juss' go' ere' and nobody told us that vere wos a problem!
Whoy weren't we towld...!
Oi mean, know what oi mean, whaaa......
Sunday, 5 July 2015
R.I.P. Chris Squire...
http://www.express.co.uk/news/showbiz/587525/Yes-guitarist-Chris-Squire-dead-aged-67
What a great bass player, and only 67 - my age...
Yes pushed so many boundaries, and his method of chunking great waves of large bass notes - even trills - into the other bits they all made up, was/is a revelation for proper prog-rock.
What a shame to pop off so young, and I'll listen to all his stuff again now, for just a great memory of a fabulous musician.
Going for the one
Still an absolute favourite song.
What a great bass player, and only 67 - my age...
Yes pushed so many boundaries, and his method of chunking great waves of large bass notes - even trills - into the other bits they all made up, was/is a revelation for proper prog-rock.
What a shame to pop off so young, and I'll listen to all his stuff again now, for just a great memory of a fabulous musician.
Going for the one
Still an absolute favourite song.
Saturday, 4 July 2015
Monumental decision...
Scrobs, after much soul-searching for at least seven seconds, has decided not to go to Syria, because Russell Brand says he would go there if he could fly first class!
What an arsehole!
What an arsehole!
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