A new era, and hope for the residents of our favourite village...

 

There was indignation and uproar at the voting table in Sodden Prickney Parish Council hall last Tuesday, (reports Tarquin ffarquin Larquin of 'The Bugle').

In fact, it was more like a battlefield scene from Henry V, or The Crimea, or the Som...(get on with it - Ed), as the several piles of votes were clearly showing one outright winner, with Cllr. Amelia Newt carefully holding the stack down with a house brick!

The entire committee had assembled in the hall to find out who was to be their next chairman, and recriminations between the various parties had already begun, with Cllr. Cynthia Molestrangler, fresh from an assignment with her gardener, who has been putting up a new pergola in her arbour, (so that what it's called - Ed), and feeling slightly flushed, announced her arrival by banging the door back with such ferocity, that the picture of Queen Victoria's Coronation, situated close by, fell with a crash, and sent glass shards everywhere, much to the annoyance of the caretaker, Arthur Grumble! 

She immediately accused Cllr. Basil Kalashnikov of cheating by voting for himself three times,and began to harangue everyone she could see through her bloodshot eyes, which, had they not been seeing double would have noticed only a dozen or so bored citizens of the village, sitting around and gawping at their mobile telephones!

It was clear that Cllr. Trumpet was going to be the winner, as the small pile of votes, with fifteen spoiled papers paper-clipped to last year's calender, was the sum total of his nearest rival, the redoubtable but statuesquely diminishing figure of Cllr Molestrangler!

Cllr Norman Wibble, together with Dr. Iodine, began to try and placate her tantrums, which had now risen to a sound resembling a turkey farm around Christmas, and her harsh cackle began to reverberate around the room, to the point that two citizens left in disgust, and visited the local pub to wait for the result!

It didn't take long, before the vote was finalised, and the 1,245 votes for Cllr. Sid Trumpet made a welcome fanfare to a new era of Sodden Prickney Parish Council's hopes and. aspirations, and all he got was a great clonk in the face with a bejewelled left hook, before his beaten opponent stormed out of the room, shrieking obscenities, and by slamming the door, knocked the painting of King George VI to the floor, causing great shards of glass to fly everywhere, to the continuing intense annoyance of the afore-mentioned Arthur Grumble!

It was a night to remember, and to celebrate, someone produced a bottle of Asti Spumante for some odd reason, as it hadn't ever been entered on the inventory for the council expenditure, so the recriminations had started almost immediately, with Cllr Basil Kalshnikov sidling towards the door to escape, and uttering only the mildest of ,'Sod the lot of yous', and scrunching the broken glass at his feet, causing Arthur Grumble to throw up his arms in utter despair...

Down - and up - the tube...

Chatting with ED last evening about this and that, she came up with the sort of fact that you hear, and somehow want to marvel at, but for no other reason, than it's just, 'very/quite/somewhat 'interesting'!

In a previous life, she used to travel extensively in Europe, and usually went by Eurostar from here. It was much easier for her, as they lived in London, so the terminal was not far away.

As the train would slide into the tunnel, she was in the habit of turning on whatever musical extravaganza was available at the time, and playing the classic song - still one of my absolute favourites - 'Supper's ready'...

Apparently, the length of the song, which is one whole side of the album 'Foxtrot', is almost exactly twenty-three minutes, and from going into the tunnel to getting out the other end was the exact duration of the trip, give or take the occasional puncture! So she would emerge near Calais just as the...

'Lord of Lords, King of Kings, has returned to lead his children home, to take them to the new Jerusalem'!

Sometimes these revelations just need recording!

That election, yet again...

There was, as usual, some confusion surrounding the election of Sodden Prickney Parish Council's new Chairman, mainly because the current incumbent, Cllr. Basil Kalashnikov, had barricaded himself into the small store room next to the ladies' convenience, and was refusing to come out! 

It is a well-known fact, (Are you sure? - Ed), that the store room was often used for shenanigans of a Ugandan nature, especially when Cllr. Edwina Baggage (Bicycling Correspondent on 'The Bugle'), was attending the meetings, and the sounds of much joyous rapture were inclined to affect the concentration of other members of the committee, including Cllr. Ron Groat, who often availed himself of the facilities there, especially when his usual squeeze, Miss Amelia Newt was away visiting an elderly relative, and he always had a notion that Cllr. Cynthia Molestrangler fancied him something rotten!

So, voting in the new Chairman wasn't going to be easy, especially as Cynthia had her eye on the job, and was canvassing - indeed, even beseeching, (so that's what it's called - Ed), all and sundry to vote for her, but the general impression was that she had an irritating cackle, was never able to hold her brief, (Plural?- Ed), and while reckoned to be in the exalted position of chairing a sub-committee dealing with the bicycle shed repairs, which was normally Ms Baggage's occupation, the complete 'job' of running a well-oiled council wasn't really an option worth considering beyond the fatuous!

Cllr. Norman Wibble was also throwing his hat in the ring, which surprised everybody, as his ability to remember even the most recent discussion was reckoned to be irremediable, so, as he'd once had the job in 1954, comparisons, and denials had to be made, and his doctor informed! Dr Norbert Iodine agreed that Cllr. Wibble had in fact begun to lose various marbles, but as far as he was concerned, he couldn't be arsed to find out which ones!

Of course, the front runner for the job was Cllr. Sid Trumpet, on account of the fact that he had the most money, was deeply enamoured by, with and from Edwina Baggage, for his style, fortitude and longevity, (that explains a lot - Ed), and he also thought that Cllr. Basil Kalshnikov was as useless as an inflatable dartboard!

P.C.Lumbersnatch had also been alerted to the possibilities of computer-based voting fraud, which was becoming quite a problem in the locality, what with Cllr. Ron Groat's machine being impounded and investigated quite recently. The truth of the matter, was that the village forensic team, (Master Chimney Sweep Wally Nobbling's son, Adrian), had discovered quite a few items of interest, including several bookmarks for Janet Reger sites, presumably to appease most of the other ladies on the committee, who had been 'bookmarked' under a special file - some had been bookmarked already several times apparently, so a quandary was established, which hopefully escaped the diverse collection of nerve endings which served as a brain for our erstwhile constable!

Thus, the election was still in the balance, but it was reckoned by the Chief Reporter on 'The Bugle', Arthur Narg, MBE, that Cllr. Trumpet would be elected once they'd found the key to the store cupboard next to the ladies convenience, and been able to tell Cllr. Kalashnikov to clear his pigeon hole and await instructions...

Les bolleaux de le chien...

Scrobs' ability to knock up a reasonable lunch took on a new phase this week!

Back in the Spring, we bought an air fryer for a couple of reasons, one, that our oven was not that efficient, being quite a small machine, which does what it says on the box, but gets pretty murky, so while a Karcher Jetwash could be the answer, the resulting fire from an electrical short-out might not go down so well, and two, I'd heard from chums that a new-fangled fryer could be the answer to most of the basic culinary conundrums being faced at the time! Elder Daughter convinced me that to buy one was a good first step up to Jamie Oliver standards!

The first machine wasn't half bad, being almost an 'entry-level' bit of kit, but like most items, you get what you pay for, and timing is of the essence where such efficiency is required in minutes on some cooking periods. The timer was a wind-up clock type, and just recently, was becoming erratic on the crucial final five minutes of cooking, and continually opening and shutting the drawer to check things, let all the hot air out, and made the issue worse!

After five months, I thought I should be able to do better than this, and my current favourite Argos Store thankfully agreed, so I chopped it in for a refund, and bought a bigger and better one!

Hence the post-title...

I'd never given much thought to the fact that Tefal is a French company, or rather, I never spent much time wondering where all the fabulous frying pans they make come from, but this new beast may well take the place of so much kit in the kitchen, I'll have to re-think the whole layout now...

For a start, the TV is going, as the last time I watched it was when Senora O'Blene used to banish me from the lounge to watch the rugby, as I made too much noise yelling at the screen, and she wanted to read a book! That would have been around the World Cup days!

I've found countless diaries, old recipes, receipts, instruction leaflets for long-busted items, and a packet of very attractive printed kitchen roll we bought in Italy about twenty years ago!

I've road-tested the machine already, and am pleasantly surprised that the action is superb, quiet and easy to work with the digital display making immediate sense!

Le chien is definitely in the ascendance...

Allow yourself the luxury of thinking...

Allow yourself the luxury of thinking...

I've just made that title up!

As chums here know, issues are desolate with not seeing and hearing my darling wife here any more. I can cope in various ways, including, most importantly, with chatting  with Elder Daughter, (who used to be ED in past posts), and a laugh and a recipe for tomorrow's lunch is the norm)!

But things move on! I make things, design improbable artifacts, buy less food, walk Lily with a vengeance, and she is an adorable dog, with a loyalty span the size of the Russian states!

But while tinctures are quite an interesting issue here, the norm never exceeds the necessity, and during those minutes, 'thinking' sets in...!

I can redesign the whole house, consider a new car, wonder about a new electric bike, forget a new electric bike, and ponder how I can create something from some oak off-cuts which lurk in a chum's garage just down the road, etc., etc., 

Salvador Dali once said that he could have a few tilts at the old Cava, sit in a comfortable chair, holding a huge brass key in one hand, and drift off to sleep.

Just as he was relaxing into the arms of alcoholic oblivion, his hand would relax, he'd drop the key with a clang, wake up, and immediately start sketching, while the myriad of impossible visions swirled around his fertile brain, and his pictures would emerge!

So the Telegraph Crossword supplies the extra brain exertion, Sudoku helps the other side, planning next year's garden is in its infancy, but the ideas are already in place, and I've just done something I thought I'd never do! I've arranged for a gardener to come and give our hedges a very severe haircut, such that I can control them for the next dozen years or so, and about £300.00 will be a satisfactory expenditure, as I've thought long and hard, and now realise I can't do them on my own anymore!

So that's what thinking does for you...

An elixir, or just a mixer...

One particular topic has been under discussion this week, concerning one of the most vital commodities one requires on a daily basis, and has attributes which are dreamed and crafted in paradise, and consumed on our humble earth!

You will know, of course, that it is Tonic Water - as if it could be anything else, like manna from heaven, the elixir of life itself, the blessin...(Get on with it - Ed), and a serious question arose from a conversation with Daughter the other day!

Gin and tonic is a staple in these parts! We have a myriad of grocers which sell countless brands of gin, and the profession of designing and producing this spirit is becoming a burgeoning and bustling trade! We are lucky around here, that we have companies who actually make the stuff, and we spent a very happy day at one of their talks, which also entailed coming away with countless bottles, sample tasters and several of their own brand glasses!

But one anomaly remains - does one keep one's tonic in the fridge?

So this is the quandary! It's been bugging us for weeks, and we still haven't concluded the answer!

Daughter has always maintained that several cubes of ice, a dash of lemon or lime - or a slice of cucumber, and at least a double measure of gin (50ml), with a triple amount of tonic, (150ml), creates the perfect mix, and that is why one buys these little cans of Schweppes, which have to be full-fat! 

But does one keep the tonic in the fridge, or outside somewhere like the garage or the shed? They easily fit in the egg rack of any fridge door, so the problem could be solved that way! I'm very keen on tonic with orange squash as a refreshing rehydrator for breakfast, so I always have a litre in the fridge door! I never bother to measure it out in my special glass, which takes exactly 330ml full to the brim, so never work out how much I need of each part of the cocktail, but the query remains, is a G&T better for a near freezing tonic or not?

I really don't know, so answers below please, and maybe Daughter and I can then discuss the issues again on Sunday evening, at 6.00pm!

Funnies whatever...

1. When one door closes and another door opens, you are probably in prison.

2. To me, "drink responsibly" means don't spill it.

3. Age 60 might be the new 40, but 9:00 pm is the new midnight.

4. It's the start of a brand new day, and I'm off like a herd of turtles.

5. The older I get, the earlier it gets late.

6. When I say, "The other day," I could be referring to any time between yesterday and 15 years ago.

7. I remember being able to get up without making sound effects.

8. I had my patience tested. I'm negative.

9. Remember, if you lose a sock in the dryer, it comes back as a Tupperware lid that doesn't fit any of your containers.

10. If you're sitting in public and a stranger takes the seat next to you, just stare straight ahead and say, "Did you bring the money?"

11. When you ask me what I am doing today, and I say "nothing," it does not mean I am free. It means I am doing nothing.

12. I finally got eight hours of sleep. It took me three days, but whatever.

13. I run like the winded.

14. I hate it when a couple argues in public, and I missed the beginning and don't know whose side I'm on.

15. When someone asks what I did over the weekend, I squint and ask, "Why, what did you hear?"

16. When you do squats, are your knees supposed to sound like a goat chewing on an aluminum can stuffed with celery?

17. I don't mean to interrupt people. I just randomly remember things and get really excited.

18. When I ask for directions, please don't use words like "east."

19. Don't bother walking a mile in my shoes. That would be boring. Spend 30 seconds in my head. That'll freak you right out.

20. Sometimes, someone unexpected comes into your life out of nowhere, makes your heart race, and changes you forever. We call those people cops.