Do South Africa deserve to win...

I don't know whether to laugh or cry...

Watching Wales versus South Africa this morning, I began to wonder whether the first two-thirds of the game was better than watching Dulux dry in the shed!

But then it took off! Chases, kicks, tackles, mauls (what are they - in my day they were 'loose scrums')!

But there again, although your compatriot Scrobs was an educated man from The Brecon Beacons, and well known for banter and beer, I was dreading a win for my adopted second-choice in the game.

If Wales had won, it would have been a barnstorm World Cup Final of England versus Wales, in a foreign country, away from home and real beer, and the triumphalist passion would have really mucked up my recognition of the whole contest. I mean, you just cannot have two of the greatest teams in the world playing against each other in a stadium as far away as Yokohama!

It's just not British!

What an awful man is Scrobs. My great business partner and I regularly toasted Wales with several tinctures, as we vowed to support them always, unless they were playing England. But this time, I just couldn't countenance a tussle with the old enemy, in a match as far away as Japan.

Sorry, but there it is.

Dialect and her ducks...

Scrobs was chatting with a chap in the village other day, and learned that he used to live in Ilkley, Yorkshire.

It only took a few seconds to get the new acquaintance to start singing the anthem from that particular location, and, more interestingly, he described the song and provided a translation!

Lyrics in Yorkshire dialect Wheear 'ast tha bin sin' ah saw thee, ah saw thee? On Ilkla Mooar baht 'at Wheear 'ast tha bin sin' ah saw thee, ah saw thee? Wheear 'ast tha bin sin' ah saw thee? On Ilkla Mooar baht 'at On Ilkla Mooar baht 'at On Ilkla Mooar baht 'at Tha's been a cooartin' Mary Jane Tha's bahn' to catch thy deeath o' cowd Then us'll ha' to bury thee Then t'worms'll come an' eyt thee oop Then t'ducks'll come an' eyt up t'worms Then us'll go an' eyt up t'ducks Then us'll all ha' etten thee That's wheear we get us ooan back I never knew that...!

Interpretation in Standard English Where have you been since I saw you, I saw you? On Ilkley Moor without a hat Where have you been since I saw you, I saw you? Where have you been since I saw you? On Ilkley Moor without a hat On Ilkley Moor without a hat On Ilkley Moor without a hat You've been courting Mary Jane You're bound to catch your death of cold Then we will have to bury you Then the worms will come and eat you up Then the ducks will come and eat up the worms Then we will go and eat up the ducks Then we will all have eaten you That's where we get our own back

Sad sight...

Thirty-two years ago today...

Scrobs on the right, feeding the family, Sevenoaks still in mourning for their iconic trees.

They didn't give storms 'names' back then, just said it like it was, 'The Great Storm 1987'!

Outcasts, the story repeats itself...

While chasing down another lead recently, I found this...

https://www.walesonline.co.uk/news/local-news/binmen-furious-after-seven-workmates-17027182

By coincidence, Iv'e just finished re-reading this fabulous story: -

It took him years to get it published, and looking at some of the comments in some of the chapters, you can understand why everyone dropped it like a hot brick!

As an aside, I hope the good binmen of Caerphilly don't have to experience the dire consequences of the prison scene!

October on a spreadsheet, cue 'The Association'...

At this time of year, the old account takes a bit of a clobbering, what with the car service, which is a big one this year, and its MOT (the Golf, not me, but maybe that's not such a bad idea), drainage system service (a peek into the pit, a few swishes with a brush, turdal examinations etc), two new pairs of glasses this time, (we both need them to be upgraded), and now, it's the blasted electricity renewal!

Just for the record, we'll go to Boots in T. Wells for the specs, and I've booked a table for lunch afterwards - we're on the bus so will probably get real oiled I can assure you...

Back to the sparks; I have to go through all the motions of working out what we've used during the last year, what we may use next year, take a punt on whether the winter will be harder than the last, and then hold a finger up, light a tincture and say, 'Oh sod it'...

But wait!

This year, after much consideration, I decided to do it all properly!

We have to change by the end of next month, so we've plenty of time. The present supplier hasn't been all bad,(Ebico), as they charge nothing for Economy 7 at night,which we have for rads and water, but hike the standing charge and the day rate to compensate. They were competitive last year, but seeing their new rates...Nooo!

So, Google Sheets became the 'vehicle for change', and WOW, what a difference a search makes!

The quotes from Uswitch etc. showed that we could save nearly £30 a month at the click of the mouse! It became a bit of a thing like St Paul had, and the old spreadsheet came up with all sorts of anomalies in charges, hidden charges, VAT, etc, and as one has to assume that any company providing an inelastic commodity is going to try and cheat you, the change becomes a necessity, if only to shaft those who wish to pinch your money. I feel that around a 20% increase is enough for a grown man to say - 'Oh Bollocks'!

So, tomorrow, it'll be a few clicks, and Goodbye Columbus *!

(I tried to copy the actual spreadsheet works here, but all hell let loose, and I gave up in the end, but if anyone is really interested, I can copy some sort of file and send it via email)!

It's not really rocket science, but a quid a day in my pocket is probably the best place for it!

*The Association are one of my favourite close harmony groups of all time - Along comes Mary is an absolute favourite, and should be on my Hall of Fame. For a historical note, I was on a course in Surbiton in 1966, trying to become a surveyor, and while enjoying several tinctures, and several 'Senior Service Cadets' fags, this gorgeous song was being played constantly!

Database reorg.com...

How on earth does one try and find out if a lovely old business chum has popped off, or gone and got married again, or both?

At three-score-years and twelve, there are a few names less on my PC, more's the pity, but when the Christmas cards don't appear, and the emails start to bounce back, a big fear crosses the brow of the hill, and a gaze into the distance occurs.

I've been wracking my brains to ask a mutual chum about a great buddy of mine, and I think I cracked it about right and asked him, but - well  - who knows?

It took me a couple of glasses of Lindemans to pluck up the courage, so I hope it was well slurped...

Forty days and thirty-nine nights...

In the time mentioned above, we'll be rid of the odious EU for good.

I've followed much of the Brexit shenanigans from time to time, keeping my blood pressure to an industrial standard and reading informed writers like Raedwald and Guido, instead of listening to the dire BBC, (except at night as 'sleepless in Kent', when R5 gets some airing, usually stale).

It's a funny age, forty, or so my doctor in Ashbourne (yes Mr H, the very same), told me when I had a check-up one January, when I was about thirty-two. He told me that it was the age to watch out for, which, to a Marstons Pedigree and Ogden's Gold Block pipe man isn't such a pleasant thought, and I gave up both for - oooh - several hours!

Forty was also the first item on my school's list of words which are often misspelt, and I was forty when I had a chunk of stuff between nos L1 and S5, carved out of my back, so my doctor near Derby was about right!

Our electricity bill is about £40 a week, and I'm wracking my brains trying to work out how or where we're being cheated by the suppliers. The spreadsheet is lengthening by the hour...

And so the days and nights tick down to the magic day of Halloween.

And for those who listen to the wireless very early in the morning, the Forties is a sandbank, not an island, or an estuary...