Petroleum spirit extravaganza...

Just this morning, Scrobs was doing a bit of tidying in the boot of the Scrobmobile, in preparation for taking a load of stuff to the tip etc...

In the boot, is a varied collection of shopping bags from various stores - some gone now, and old coats etc., and it was one of these which I'd bought some years ago, and have hardly ever worn, but it was kept in case I had a puncture or someone might nick the catalyser, or similar, and I had to walk home!

The pockets also contained the usual dross, but one bit of paper turned out to be a receipt for some petrol, I'd bought from a local garage almost exactly four years ago to the day!

Back then, I paid £1.779 per litre for Ultimate, as I rarely do long journeys, well, back then we didn't go far, and the old engine never really warmed up enough, so the advice from a petrol-head friend was to go for the best - so we always did!

I'm somewhat surprised at the cost, as even now, with Starmer and Reeves totally wrecking the finances of our cherished country, I'm paying that much even now!

Surely, the Hormuz was open, Sunak was indeed wreaking havoc etc., but what was the reason for the high cost back then?

Farmer Hoggett strikes again...

Just today, Scrobs was in the garden, starting the new crops, etc.

As we are next to the church, we hear the hymns and dirges every Sunday, and today, one hymn just got me going on my favourite episode in any film, ever made... 

And I started to hum it, with the inevitable drop in countenance and arrival at a solemn realisation, that it still fills me with tears...

I just don't kow how these short scenes just reverberate, but they damn well do, and with the setting, the realisation of animals and their carers, etc., the music just melts me to a gibbering wreck - every time!

It gets worse...

By now, Scrobs is even more of a blathering wreck, and these scenes are just fabulous...

The demise of a British institution - care of Labour ...

The disaster for British pubs, characterised by the manic tax-theft by the far-left 'administration', we are suffering under, is showing its face in quite a few directions.

Being retired and more elderly than 'yer average spring chicken' - ahem), I tend not to spend too much time in our local hostelries for the simple reason that it costs too much! However, when a good chum decides that we need to explore the delicacies, and Harvey's fabulous beer, in a pub a few miles away, and offers a ride in an open sports car with the hood down on an idyllic Spring day, then the tempation to join in is never a problem, and so, four of us ventured forth yesterday!

One chum has a 1963 Austin Healey 3000, which is in superb original condition, and the other chum has a Honda 2 litre, with pocket-rocket tendencies, and so we ventured west for twenty minutes to find the pub we were aiming at!

On arriving, the car park was full by 12.30, and the bars were doing a roaring trade, which was happily gratifying, and provided much jollity all round! But, isn't it signal, that nowadays, the only pubs which are just thriving, are the establishments which have an extensive menu of 'restaurant' food, good ales and wines, and a lot of staff with the eagerness to make everyone welcome?

When I started off in the big wide world, in Ashford, Kent, in 1965, I lived in sordid digs, and escaped on some nights to visit various pubs where I could at least find some company, and a genial atmosphere. The grotty pubs were well documented locally, but I can still remember one in Ashford, on the corner of a bomb site just off the main street, which was packed every evening! It was awful inside, but the chat was lively, the clientele was elderly - probably war veterans etc., and respect was paid to all new visitors like me.

Food in these great establishments would be crisps, arrow root biscuits, and maybe a year-old packet of KP nuts or cheeselets, and that's your lot! But my landlady had provided some sort of peculiar dinner, so extras weren't really required!

Compare the pub we visited yesterday with the great old boozer I used to pay 1/4 a pint for in 1965...

I'm so lucky living in a part of the country, where we aren't tarnished by the dreadful degradation of traditional British customs and values - but 1/4 a pint would be laughed at now...