Knitbone, the humming plant...

One of the benefits of having a hyperactive JRT, is the prolonged walks to keep her fit and well, and of course, we have to go with her, as otherwise she'd be off with the squirrels, and learning to climb trees. As often mentioned, we spend some time over at The Pinetum with these walks, and a few years ago, we started taking pictures of the colours and wild flowers, because they are often breathtaking, especially at this time of year.

It took us ages to find out what Comfrey looked like, and, as can be understood here, this stuff really rocks!
Last year, we used it copiously all over the top veg, and as can be seen from the content, it really is an organic gardener's dream ticket. We're bringing on a few plants this year, and will also be adding some concoction made from steeping nettles for a few days, because they produce a high nitrogen soup as well.

But there is one drawback. Both Comfrey and nettles, after a few days soaking and sulking in a container, produce one of the smelliest substances I have ever encountered, and yesterday I had to delve into the bin with both hands...

So, today, I have few friends, and I'll have even fewer, when I go down to 'The Patch', and mix up some more, together with some liquid '6X' chicken manure, and probably cause mass evacuation of the whole of the village, and maybe further...

But the spuds will like it!

The best Australian version...

Years ago, Scrobs' car didn't have a radio - they were 'opshunall eckstras' back then...

So, there was a small transistor machine sellotaped to the dashboard, and occasionally, some sounds came out from it, often changing channels from going round bends in the road, but not working that often.

The Scrobs family all lived in a small farm cottage back then, miles from anywhere, and as it was one of a pair of delightful houses, there was always some interest as to who might be living next door.

The best neighbours back then, were Lea-Pea and Frank, with Eileen as their chum. They were all from Geraldton, near Perth, Australia, and were making a few bob from winding fleeces on the local farmer's woollery.

I would drive home from London, with the sellotaped radio working every now and then, and one of the songs which popped up during the occasional straight bit of road was this classic!

One night, back in 1974, with the home-made wine on full tap, we sat with our good friends, and I mentioned this song to them...

'"Aw, noooo, really...., doncha just looooove 'im..."

Lovely people, lovely song, younger then, lovely recall...

Tall story...

In Mr Sagtrouser's quite large store, where he trades as a supplier of all things oily, clay, concrete, smelly and sticky, (and in the case of plumbing spigots and couplings, just plain rude), there is an internal double door, which leads from the cleaner goods, like tins of paint, nails etc, into another area where there is a system of high racking, where they store cement, bags of plaster etc. The customers can reverse their vans and lorries into this section for the bagged stuff, and stay nice and dry in the process. This internal double door is nearly 7 ft high, and there's only one person in the vicinity, who is able to touch the lintel with his head!

One Tuesday morning, Elias's Emporium was paid a visit by 'Oxen' Bridge, (his real name is Bill, but on account of his size, he is re-named after the local legendary Giant Oxenbridge, who used to eat children in stories oft told to young herberts who wouldn't go to sleep).

As is common with large men, he is an amazingly gentle being, and is also the spitting image of Willy John McBride as well, which creates mayhem behind the counter when Gloriette and Toniatteline are present. The ladies of course spend some considerable time making sheep eyes when 'Oxen' is reaching down onto the top shelf for a packet of washers, or attending to his bill, and of course, it has been noticed that when they are looking at his huge hands, which can hold a gallon of paint like a beer glass, and feet, which demand a size 14 Rigger Boot, they will make knowing glances at each other won't they! (Oh, come on, of course they will, even the blokes think so as well...)!

'Oxen' was not actually in a very good mood this day, because he had gone through to the cement store to pick up (single handedly), a big bag of plaster, which he didn't need his 4 X 4 to carry with arms like that, and on the way back, he seriously banged his head on the lintel and, against the course of his usual level temperament, he yelled a series of very rude words.

Meccano rushed forward to see what had happened, and then after spinning around in an indecisive dance, like 'Florence' in Magic Roundabout, he rushed back to get the First Aid kit, because there was a certain amount of blood beginning to appear around 'Oxen's forehead, and Meccano is not the best person to help as he is allergic to anything medical, surgical or red.

The two girls, of course, sent paper and pens in all directions as they swiftly came to his aid, and sat him down on a box of carpet tiles, while they fussed and clucked around him like they were his mother and sister and he was three. There was some indication from the assembled customers, that the girls were beginning to pay a little too much attention to 'Oxen', who of course had recovered by now, but was spending some additional time in the concomitant proximity of the heaving attributes of two of the most gorgeous ladies in the village, so there were several murmurs about 'having to get on the job', and 'anyone got a ladder', so that Elias had to shut everyone up with a look of  increasing violence and a hand on his favourite trench spade.

So anyway, 'Oxen' swiftly recovered, he picked up his bag of plaster, and went to the counter to pay, while the girls vanished round the back somewhere, presumably to compare notes, or whatever they do when they vanish.

Elias asked him if he felt OK now, and 'Oxen' replied, somewhat grumpily, but with a twinkle in his eye, that yes, he was fine and wasn't Elias a lucky man, to which, Elias, for once, stood firm and just grinned.

"So you've got plenty of work on then Oxen", he began, as the till started to whir.

"Got to admit Elias, that indeed I am busy but the employment situation is just not right at the moment!"

"Not sure I understand that", replied Elias, "there's lots of chaps after work round here!"

"Oh, I know that", replied Oxen, "but they want far too much money for unskilled work; much more than the minimum wage all the time, and there are all these Kossovans, and other Mid-Europeans, can't speak a word of English, coming over here and will work for nothing! It is an interesting situation, I can tell you"!

"But Oxen", Elias replied, "how do you know these newcomers are taking all the jobs then?"

"Because I'm employing 'em all that's why!" replied Oxen, hefting the bag of plaster under his arm, and signing on the dotted line...

Thud - the band and the song...

So this is the way that we promote Thud's fabulous band, and if just one more gal/guy forwards all this to her/his chums, Ellery Bop will become a sensation again!

Scrobs has spoken...

(Actually, Elecs started all this, and he has much higher ratings than me, so just let it all happen for Thud through the er -  ether eh...?)

Goferit Thud; send us some more magic tracks that man!

Don't fear The Reaper...

We've been watching the TV programme 'The 70s', recently, and despite the usual anti-right whinges the BBC usually manage to inject into most progs of this type, they do have some pretty good archive material.

The latest episode began with this this iconic song, and I suppose, when it came out in 1976, it was a good subject to ponder with a young family, a new house, a new job, and only married a few years as well...

Reading Gaol, the aftermath...

'The Doily Telegrout' has an interesting piece today, which is ideal for whiling away all these hours of torrential rain, which are contributing to 'Globule Warming', and BBC scare-story-pedlars' huge salaries.

It's their version of 'How many other people have a name like yours, and look at all those gormless kids' silly fooballer's names....

Having been moderately successful with 'Elias', after my old and learned 'Purveyor of brass couplings, screwdrivers and concrete kerbs', I then went to 'Scrobs', and sadly, the two readers here who have children with sensible names,  have not named their child after me, which is probably understandable. Meccano isn't ever mentioned, which is just as well, but a shortened version of his ever-loving squeeze, 'Toniatteline' is, and as he is often breathless and perspiring in her presence (but not actively in the shop while Elias is watching them behind the sacks of plaster), she often gets shortened to 'Tonia'. One of the customers call her 'Ton' once, and Elias had to bring some sort of order to the gentleman by wielding a Number Three Coal shovel with alarming dexterity in the general direction of the person's understandably shrinking accoutrements!

'Lilith' is clearly a name for the discerning intellectual, and only owned by an elite class, but surprisingly 'Elecs' doesn't get a look-in, although everyone knows who he is! Lakes will be relieved to see that the first part of his name gets a mention, so that's fine! It seems also, that 'Reevers' has yet to reach the starting post too...

About fifty years ago, when space exploration had just started in earnest, I distinctly remember a family naming their baby daughter, 'Module'. It was faithfully reported by the - then - doddery old BBC Newsman, and that the parents 'both liked the name and wanted the important event to be enshrined in their daughter's name for ever'!

Again, when it's dark, or raining, or I have a blank Saga moment, I sometimes wonder if the lady, who would be about fifty now, ever felt like wringing her parents' necks, or whether she was called 'Moddy' by her chums, or whether she actually liked it...

Guys, Dolls and safe deposit boxes...

(So I got up early and bit the bullet! If this post passes the test of both readers, I'll stay with Blodger. If it doesn't I'll stand on the nearest roof and shout what I want to say... )

Anyway, what I wanted to mention, is about an old hero of mine. Back in the late seventies, while I was still studying for something or other to better myself in something or other, Mrs Scrobs kept calling for me to come and watch this programme, because it was hilarious!

Now a story goes with it, as you might have guessed! (getting used to Snodger 

Back even further than then, we'd avidly watched a programme on a wheezing old black and white television, called 'The Hanged Man'. All the details are recalled here....)

Just the other evening this week, over a subliminal tincture or three, we were wondering if we could ever get these programmes on DVD, well, Youtube was showing all sorts of things, so some bright spark could easily record them, and sell the old episodes to citizens like us.

It took only a short twiddle on the keyboard to uncover this marvellous clip!

Back then, just before 'Turtle's Progress', was being aired on TV, I was working in London, and one day, was wandering through the old labyrinthine walkways under Waterloo, (now covered with a round, odd-looking cinema). It used to be a smelly old place, with both human and structural dereliction in full evidence, so the wanderings usually took on a bit of speed, to get away into the fresh air.

In one of the grey concrete alleys, I suddenly arrived at a large commotion, with bright lights, and lots of people rushing about looking agitated and looking into cameras, and talking into microphones. It was an outside crew, filming part of a 'gangster' series, so I learned from another chap watching what was going on. Because it was the first time I'd ever seen this sort of excitement, I stayed and watched too.

The scene was of two actors, hiding behind a wall, and jumping out on two other men, who were sauntering along. It wasn't a long scene, but I still remember my future hero, Razor Eddie, jumping out, with clear intent on bodily harm, and doing a hand-chop down on one of the saunterers. The chop understandably stopped short of the man's neck of course, because this was, after all, a film, but it was frighteningly realistic, and seeing the shadow of Michael Attwell, looming behind that long brown overcoat, is something I'll never forget!

Of course, from then on, I didn't stop telling Mrs Scrobs what I'd seen, and so all studying for whatever I was studying for, was placed on hold, while all the hilarious episodes of Turtle and Razor Eddie unfolded. The highlight was of course, the programme with the scene I'd watched, (which only lasted for a few seconds), and again, Mrs S had her ear bent for several hours about what I'd seen!

Fast forward a few years - my work was then based in North Acton, and I may have mentioned before, we used to go to 'The Castle' pub on the corner, next to the BBC rehearsal rooms. I lived in the same village as Peter Childs, who was Insp Ronnie Rycott in 'Minder' back then, and Peter was often in our local at home, enjoying the craic, as we all did. I saw him once in 'The Castle', and he immediately hauled me over to meet everyone, there, mostly household names, and of course the landlord.

As you may see in the Youtube clip, my big regret is that the one man I'd always wanted to meet wasn't there that day, and of course, it is bad manners to just barge into a man's conversation with his friends when he was there, so I never did meet him! His son, Jake, has kindly replied, and I do hope that we'll see more clips of these guys one day!

And why, both of you ask, did I mention 'The Hanged Man' earlier?

Well, I only found out a couple of days ago, that John Landry (Turtle), had made his name with such a good performance as a small-time crook in that series, that they based the whole new programme on him and his strong man and weren't we the lucky ones to see all that, as I re-discovered what a fantastic singing voice Michael Attwell had, especially as he was the star (Sky Masterson) in 'Guys and Dolls', which is based on yet another all-time hero of mine, Damon Runyon!

Update... This was the intro to the series, and on hearing the first few bars, I'd chuck the text book down and tear downstairs for an hour of great entertainment...