So here we are, first day over, and they told us they had taken it easy with us. Easy? So is this E for Easy or still E for Eskdale. Ten thirty in the evening, after we had finished the washing up, drying, putting away, cleaning the floor, the cookers, and finally lifting all the chairs on the tables, reminiscent of school days I think, then of to our dormitory. Thankfully our bags were still there, and I had grabbed bed number four, ground floor accommodation with one tenant above. Remember the old saying, I think it was Paul Simon who said it, “ one mans floor is another mans ceiling”. I was happy that night to get a ground floor berth, but………….
After throwing all our smelly PE clothes in a plastic bag, we found ours selves roused at 6 am the next morning and told to put them back on. Wet and. smelly!!!!. Well old Nick Nack, a bit old cockney slang here, and I’m proud to say it was me that called him that, had forgotten or wasn’t told, remember we were his first team, that all PE kits were to be washed out before bed, put in the drying room for use next day. Well before you raise your hands in horror, we did have to take five or six PE kits with us, but these they told us would be thrown away at the end.
The end? I had been there 15 hours and it was only 6am on the second morning. 6am. six bloody am in the bloody morning, roused from our sleep with a crash of the door and huge great bell ringing. I was knackered, smelly and to be perfectly honest pissed off at the bloke at work, who had decided I need to spend 26 days here, from mid July to mid August, having the kind of experiences which turned a boy into a man.
Yeah right, as if I needed that. I had out grown the Dehydrated Doughnuts, had fought the Emperor of India and won, well lessals mum did, and he thought i needed more??????
So anyway Nick Nack ( you know, Nick Nack Paddy Wack, well he was Irish remember ) smiled that endearing smile of his, and took us for another run down the tarn, twice around and then, yes you have guessed it, we all had to jump in.
Well to say it was cold yesterday afternoon, was probably true, to say it was cold at 6.10 am is an understatement. The bits that shrink in the cold shrunk so much I almost spat them out. Then it was a run, always a run, back to the showers, and a long hot soak under the refreshing warm water. Yeah i am sure you believed that. Well it was what we had hoped for as we ran back to the showers, what we found was slightly more realistic. If you did not jump in the tarn, then you stood under the freezing cold water of the shower for 30 seconds, and they timed it. If you got out early then you started again. we were beginning to think we had been sent to some kind of prison camp. talag Eskdale. But if you did jump in then if you did then u stood under the cold, but not freezing water, for as long as it takes to wash , which was not very long, even slightly cold was still cold
So then back to the dorm, dressed and then lets see what we had planned for today. How about a stroll around town, a nice visit to Keswick, a bit of relaxation in the pub over looking Wastwater, the list was endless. But old Nick Nack sat us down and went through a few of the rules and regulations of the place. They were very simple really, the big three as they were called.
1. If you arrived clean shaven, you left clean shaven.
2. No drinking alcohol at anytime.
3. No fraternising with the female staff, so I guess if you were gay and we all thought one of the cooks was, not just that he wore yellow Marigolds, because the water was so hot you had to wear them or burn your hands, but the fact he had an earring in both ears, unusual even 1972, he also wore yellow poka dot trousers, and a very colourful bandana on his head. Added to that was his name badge which said he was called Geraldine, maybe a give away that. So its Ok for gays, and finally number four,
4. No magazines of a nature to embarrass your mother.
I know I said three but four is a round number and I like it better than three
So of course we didn't have anything like that, goodness they were like gold dust, it must be how it works in prisons for drugs, and smokes, even here they were a form of currency. probably from that eastern Eurpoean country that old Jim Shooter was going to work in. Masturbania.
If you had one of them you were rich, two or more then wow, of course we did not have any in our dorm, you reading this Mother Lessall.
It was a funny old meeting, it was a bit like walking down slough high street now on a saturday morning, in that i am the only one who speaks english. we had an Irish team Leader, three gordies, three from the black country and boy they had weird accents, two more came from glasgow, well one did, we couldn't understand the other one. and one from essex, and a scouser, but we try not to talk about him.
Well rules sorted, we were given a free period from 9am, till 10.30 when we were about to Start our first session of circuit training.
Stalag Eskdale, we had started our sentance
Saturday 8 August 2009
Thursday 23 July 2009
E for Eskdale at last
After months of soul searching, and we are not talking tracking down an old Motown hit, and amid thousands of requests, which i have decided to ignore, i have pleasure in announcing the return of the Biggest Blog in the world, no not Wayne’s world, but Lessall’s world.
OK lets be honest, it's not really the biggest in the world, it just feels like it now and again, and its been a long time since the last time, far to long and apologies for that. Oh and while i'm at it, i would also like to apologise for throwing the bucket of water containing bleach, over the cat that was doing its business in my front garden. I mean where do they get off doing that? have they no shame, its my garden for Fugs sake, why do they never crap in their owners gardens? anyway what i would like to apologise for was for missing the damn animal and wetting the telephone engineer behind my hedge, who was fixing the phone line while drinking his coffee. how did i know it was coffee, well i am sure he shouted, who the then a pause for coffee over me, but it was difficult to hear as i shut the door quickly and headed for the safety of the toilet.
Anyway as I sit here, at my laptop and not the toilet, i left there about ten minutes later after two squirts from the air freshner, needed more but i was not sitting there any longer, so as i sit here and contemplate what to write, I can see that huge wall that they talk about.
Sometimes it looks really huge, made of a mixture of concrete and iron, that would need a bomb ten times the size of the one that flattened Hiroshima. Other days I just start to tap and the verbal diarrhea just gushes forth. You know that feeling after a really hot curry when you think your brains are running out of your backend and the pan will overflow, flooding the loo and ending up soaking into your socks, making you flush desperately even though you had not finished. Well today is not one of those days. Although every great writer has them, Tom Sharpe, was dormant for a number of years before the latest Wilt Novel was written, and if you have never read Wilt , Ancestral Vices and especially The Throwback, then you have not lived. The Throwback is the funniest book ever written, get a copy u will not be disapointed. Oven cleaner in a condom, i cried for hours, its pure genius.
Tom Clancy had months of writing then deleting and rewriting and redeleting, and then found seven months later he had the same dialog as the first day he hit the delete button, ( just like a woman out shopping then ) and even the great Enzo I heard, but not sure how true it is, hit the wall for 30 minutres, yes 30 whole minutes, before a witty repitoire issued forth. it was only once, and i did hear that there was a riot going on outside his house with Afgan terrorists holding his wheelybin to ransom, it seems they thought it was a new form of plastic tank, and they wanted to take it back with them.
And for me the longest was 3 days before something remarkable came out of my pen. It was ink. All over the key board. It was a disaster. last time i use those cheap ones everyone nicks from Argos.
But I am determined to get this done, even if it drives Mrs Lessall to drink. Oh how I wish someone would drive me to drink, being the only car driver in the house it’s a bloody nusance, one pint of beer and that’s it. Not like the old days. thirty pints, six bags of crisps, those ones with the little blue bag of salt, which usually was damp and came out in one lump, then a hair raising drive to the chippy for a bag of salted chips and crackling. and no one seemed to suffer from high cholesterol back then either
But E is for Eskdale, and more specifically to the Eskdale Mountain Rescue Centre. Its in the heart of the lake district, and I was lucky (?) enough to go there between July and August in 1973. I was a first year apprentice and had left the Dehydrated Doughnuts behind, had the expereince of the Emporer of India, and was now starting out on years of hard work, being misunderstood, undervalued, underpaid, abused and eventually tossed aside, but in 1973 as a reward for the hard work and effort put in during my first year full of hope and expectation, I was sent to Eskdale for 4 weeks. Character building i think they called it. sounded more like Boot Camp, and not the Dale Winton type of camp either.
But I was lucky I could have been sent to a triple mast sailing boat, like the type used on Hornblower, ( no, don't you dare think it, i know your mind is going there, but just don't ), yes like the one in Hornblower, rocking about in the sea just off the coast on North Wales for 4 weeks, and as I can not swim and get sea sick sitting in the bath, ( ever wondered why the bath and a sink are in the same room? well its unhygenic to vomit in the bath, but the sink is much more acceptable ), anyway I am glad to say that honour was passed to someone else. so no campish "Hello Sailor for me"
So with suit case in hand I headed to Kings Cross station, not really heading, thats something that happens in football, i was driven to the station and if I remember correctly it stopped at Crewe, then up to Workington, and all the way there more "lucky people" were joining the train and heading ( there is that football reference again ) in the same direction. All keeping our heads down and wishing we were somewhere else, and hey ho eventually we did arrive somewhere else. See wishes can come true if you pray hard enough and squeeze your knees together so hard that .... well i don't need to tell you do i? and when British Rail made us leave the carraige at Ravensglass, we eventually ended doing the final stretch of the journey on the picturesque Ranvenglass and Eskdale railway Can you imagine 106 lads aged between 17 and 20, mainly Police or Fire cadets all sitting on that train wondering what the hell we had let ourselves in for.
And did you know that Elephant is a unit of paper equal to 28 by 23 inches, no? you must had led a very sheltered life then.
It must have looked weird as we walked from the station in single file up the road to the mountain rescue outward bound school, then had to stand and wait as they assigned us to a patrol. After about six minutes my name was called and i was sent to join the ten others of Slingsby Patrol, and the Patrol leader was a guy we called Paddy. He was Irish, i bet that was a surprise, think there was a clue in his name perhaps?? and he then told us he was born in Limerick. There once was a team leader called Paddy, who at first we thought was a nice laddie, but he made us all run, which was not a lot of fun , so in the end we thought he was a baddy, and as well as working there, he was a professional fell walker. Now thats a real contradiction if ever i heard one, fell walker? because they never walk anywhere all they do all day is run, run and run, he used to run more than Alfies nose. He could run up and down the fells all day long and all I could run up was a tab at the Emperor every Sunday evening. Boy did i have bad vibes about this.
So after been designated our dormatory, we dumped our suitcases on the bed, well our own bed, there wasn't just one in the dorm, it sort of sounded like from the first statement, but i did not want to mislead you, as if we threw them all on the same bed, no. it hadn't got that bad yet. We had one each. That done we headed off, running of course down the hill, in clean shorts and gym shirts, and proceeded to run around the TARN for what seemed like hours, but was in fact about a mile and half. Then we had to run to the edge of the jetty and jump in. luckily it was only about 3 foot deep by the jetty, but later I was to find out it’s a bloody damn site deeper. So run finished and P.E. kit wet and smelly, it was back to the shower room, and a warm shower, and we didn’t get to many of those in the 4 weeks. then dried off and dressed, we were given our time table.
Being lead by the newest instructor there, we were made Rescue Patrol for the rest of the day.
So what did that mean? well on that first day it meant setting the tables for the evening meal, then washing up and drying and putting all the crockery, plates, knives, forks, spoons, you name it we had it, back afterwards for 106 “students“ and about 20 members of staff. Have you ever washed up for 120 odd people? or even 120 normal people for that matter?, but to have that many odd people in one place was well odd. I can tell you its not fun. and i will tell you, it was not fun. The water was so hot you needed at least five pairs of Marigolds, which is what probably re awoke my rubber fetish. more on that later, but the next time we were Rescue Patrol it meant something a lot different.
so i have now arrived at Eskdale, more next time about what really happened.
The things i did not tell Mum and Dad Lessall
OK lets be honest, it's not really the biggest in the world, it just feels like it now and again, and its been a long time since the last time, far to long and apologies for that. Oh and while i'm at it, i would also like to apologise for throwing the bucket of water containing bleach, over the cat that was doing its business in my front garden. I mean where do they get off doing that? have they no shame, its my garden for Fugs sake, why do they never crap in their owners gardens? anyway what i would like to apologise for was for missing the damn animal and wetting the telephone engineer behind my hedge, who was fixing the phone line while drinking his coffee. how did i know it was coffee, well i am sure he shouted, who the then a pause for coffee over me, but it was difficult to hear as i shut the door quickly and headed for the safety of the toilet.
Anyway as I sit here, at my laptop and not the toilet, i left there about ten minutes later after two squirts from the air freshner, needed more but i was not sitting there any longer, so as i sit here and contemplate what to write, I can see that huge wall that they talk about.
Sometimes it looks really huge, made of a mixture of concrete and iron, that would need a bomb ten times the size of the one that flattened Hiroshima. Other days I just start to tap and the verbal diarrhea just gushes forth. You know that feeling after a really hot curry when you think your brains are running out of your backend and the pan will overflow, flooding the loo and ending up soaking into your socks, making you flush desperately even though you had not finished. Well today is not one of those days. Although every great writer has them, Tom Sharpe, was dormant for a number of years before the latest Wilt Novel was written, and if you have never read Wilt , Ancestral Vices and especially The Throwback, then you have not lived. The Throwback is the funniest book ever written, get a copy u will not be disapointed. Oven cleaner in a condom, i cried for hours, its pure genius.
Tom Clancy had months of writing then deleting and rewriting and redeleting, and then found seven months later he had the same dialog as the first day he hit the delete button, ( just like a woman out shopping then ) and even the great Enzo I heard, but not sure how true it is, hit the wall for 30 minutres, yes 30 whole minutes, before a witty repitoire issued forth. it was only once, and i did hear that there was a riot going on outside his house with Afgan terrorists holding his wheelybin to ransom, it seems they thought it was a new form of plastic tank, and they wanted to take it back with them.
And for me the longest was 3 days before something remarkable came out of my pen. It was ink. All over the key board. It was a disaster. last time i use those cheap ones everyone nicks from Argos.
But I am determined to get this done, even if it drives Mrs Lessall to drink. Oh how I wish someone would drive me to drink, being the only car driver in the house it’s a bloody nusance, one pint of beer and that’s it. Not like the old days. thirty pints, six bags of crisps, those ones with the little blue bag of salt, which usually was damp and came out in one lump, then a hair raising drive to the chippy for a bag of salted chips and crackling. and no one seemed to suffer from high cholesterol back then either
But E is for Eskdale, and more specifically to the Eskdale Mountain Rescue Centre. Its in the heart of the lake district, and I was lucky (?) enough to go there between July and August in 1973. I was a first year apprentice and had left the Dehydrated Doughnuts behind, had the expereince of the Emporer of India, and was now starting out on years of hard work, being misunderstood, undervalued, underpaid, abused and eventually tossed aside, but in 1973 as a reward for the hard work and effort put in during my first year full of hope and expectation, I was sent to Eskdale for 4 weeks. Character building i think they called it. sounded more like Boot Camp, and not the Dale Winton type of camp either.
But I was lucky I could have been sent to a triple mast sailing boat, like the type used on Hornblower, ( no, don't you dare think it, i know your mind is going there, but just don't ), yes like the one in Hornblower, rocking about in the sea just off the coast on North Wales for 4 weeks, and as I can not swim and get sea sick sitting in the bath, ( ever wondered why the bath and a sink are in the same room? well its unhygenic to vomit in the bath, but the sink is much more acceptable ), anyway I am glad to say that honour was passed to someone else. so no campish "Hello Sailor for me"
So with suit case in hand I headed to Kings Cross station, not really heading, thats something that happens in football, i was driven to the station and if I remember correctly it stopped at Crewe, then up to Workington, and all the way there more "lucky people" were joining the train and heading ( there is that football reference again ) in the same direction. All keeping our heads down and wishing we were somewhere else, and hey ho eventually we did arrive somewhere else. See wishes can come true if you pray hard enough and squeeze your knees together so hard that .... well i don't need to tell you do i? and when British Rail made us leave the carraige at Ravensglass, we eventually ended doing the final stretch of the journey on the picturesque Ranvenglass and Eskdale railway Can you imagine 106 lads aged between 17 and 20, mainly Police or Fire cadets all sitting on that train wondering what the hell we had let ourselves in for.
And did you know that Elephant is a unit of paper equal to 28 by 23 inches, no? you must had led a very sheltered life then.
It must have looked weird as we walked from the station in single file up the road to the mountain rescue outward bound school, then had to stand and wait as they assigned us to a patrol. After about six minutes my name was called and i was sent to join the ten others of Slingsby Patrol, and the Patrol leader was a guy we called Paddy. He was Irish, i bet that was a surprise, think there was a clue in his name perhaps?? and he then told us he was born in Limerick. There once was a team leader called Paddy, who at first we thought was a nice laddie, but he made us all run, which was not a lot of fun , so in the end we thought he was a baddy, and as well as working there, he was a professional fell walker. Now thats a real contradiction if ever i heard one, fell walker? because they never walk anywhere all they do all day is run, run and run, he used to run more than Alfies nose. He could run up and down the fells all day long and all I could run up was a tab at the Emperor every Sunday evening. Boy did i have bad vibes about this.
So after been designated our dormatory, we dumped our suitcases on the bed, well our own bed, there wasn't just one in the dorm, it sort of sounded like from the first statement, but i did not want to mislead you, as if we threw them all on the same bed, no. it hadn't got that bad yet. We had one each. That done we headed off, running of course down the hill, in clean shorts and gym shirts, and proceeded to run around the TARN for what seemed like hours, but was in fact about a mile and half. Then we had to run to the edge of the jetty and jump in. luckily it was only about 3 foot deep by the jetty, but later I was to find out it’s a bloody damn site deeper. So run finished and P.E. kit wet and smelly, it was back to the shower room, and a warm shower, and we didn’t get to many of those in the 4 weeks. then dried off and dressed, we were given our time table.
Being lead by the newest instructor there, we were made Rescue Patrol for the rest of the day.
So what did that mean? well on that first day it meant setting the tables for the evening meal, then washing up and drying and putting all the crockery, plates, knives, forks, spoons, you name it we had it, back afterwards for 106 “students“ and about 20 members of staff. Have you ever washed up for 120 odd people? or even 120 normal people for that matter?, but to have that many odd people in one place was well odd. I can tell you its not fun. and i will tell you, it was not fun. The water was so hot you needed at least five pairs of Marigolds, which is what probably re awoke my rubber fetish. more on that later, but the next time we were Rescue Patrol it meant something a lot different.
so i have now arrived at Eskdale, more next time about what really happened.
The things i did not tell Mum and Dad Lessall
Wednesday 10 December 2008
E???????
hi
E is also for Employment, and unfortunately i lost mine this week
was all geared to post the continuing story of E for Eskdale, but with my un Employment which was forced on me this week, i will be suspending it for the week as my heart is not really in it
apologies for the lapse but hopefully i will be back in the right frame of mind to continue the story.
until then be good.
if you can't be good, then make sure you bloody well enjoy yourself
lessall
E is also for Employment, and unfortunately i lost mine this week
was all geared to post the continuing story of E for Eskdale, but with my un Employment which was forced on me this week, i will be suspending it for the week as my heart is not really in it
apologies for the lapse but hopefully i will be back in the right frame of mind to continue the story.
until then be good.
if you can't be good, then make sure you bloody well enjoy yourself
lessall
Sunday 30 November 2008
E is For?
Electromagnetic, Electrocute, Electroplasma, Emperor, Eskdale, Electrolysis. To name just six. And why them Six, well we will come back to them,
Hell no, lets deal with them now? But first what does Electro mean? check it out.
but then we have Magnetic, now anyone who knows me, will know I have a magnetic personality, once I know you, you are stuck to me, and like a magnet I will not let go. So maybe that should have been ElectroGlue? Well unless of course we have the same Poles, I.e. you are just like me, 52, going bald, a pound or two to many, knee giving up etc, then we definitely do not get on. As any scientist will tell you opposite poles attract, and the same don’t. Is that where the saying “ Poles a Part” comes from then, or is it as Burnham Bert says “Its when a husband from Gdansk moves to Slough, and leaves his wife at home, they are Poles a Part”
Electrocute? well I am Cute, or so its been said. Don’t believe me?
Well my Aunt S said it when I was 6 weeks old and I nearly got a contract with Anchor Butter. Mum and me were going to be the stars in a 10 year advertising campaign, at least three ads a year watching how I grow up eating Anchor. So Aunt S said to the man that I was cute, and she should know, unless you think she was buttering them up? Who knows. But me Nan needed to cook me Granddad’s dinner so we had to go, and the world lost the next Arnie Anchor, or Sylvester Stork, maybe Bruce Lurpak, real slippery movie star names. With all that butter eating I could have been Cholesterol Man. On the down side I’d probably have had a heart attack by now and lost all my good looks.
And what of the others which begin with Electro? They are only to show I know a few more big words.
But as I write this there are two which stand out. Really? they do. And the two. Eskdale and Emperor.
So what is an Eskdale? Who is Eskdale? Go and Google it and find out. I may give a clue next week
That leaves Emperor. Honesty forbids me to sit here an lie to you, so the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Yeah right. That may come later, but the question you should be asking is, have I been known to sit and lie in the past?
I know I can sit and type and watch TV, I’m doing that now. I have been known to sit and eat my dinner without spilling it. I know I can lie and lift my legs up in the air and hold them there for about thirty seconds before my head starts to hammer. Hammer what?I can hear you ask. And I know, I know I should get up and grab a mallet or something when I feel like hammering but I enjoy hammering my head, and now you know where that little dimple in the middle of my forehead comes from. But how do I know its thirty seconds? I don’t. If I had said three minutes, you’d know I was lying, if I’d said ten seconds you’d think me a wimp, but thirty seconds seemed like a manly number. I can also lie and watch TV, not mastered the lying down and eating my dinner yet. But can i sit and lie at the same time?
But back to Emperor, No I have not been lucky and met one of the ruling class of feudal Japan. No it’s the name of the pub that taught me to drink. Ok, Ok I have been drinking from day one , water, milk, squash ( all flavours except strawberry, The Male J of J&J loved that one!! ) and the occasional shandy, all under the watchful eye of Mum and Dad Lessall, but now we are talking Beer, Spirits, in other words Alcohol. So the Emperor was the place that helped me move a way from the boys stuff I did in the evening, and you know what i am talking about lads don’t you? To what the older boys do in the evening. just more of the same. Booze.
Its full name is “The Emperor of India”, which one it was named after I have no idea, and frankly don’t much care, all I know it’s the place I bought my first pint. Legal or not that’s up to you to find out. The year was 1972, and pubs were so much different them. I remember P talked me in to going there and so we walked, yep walked. Didn’t I own a car? No, but maybe age had something to do with that? What was my poison back then, well a pint of Light and Bitter, 17 pence. Four pints and change from a quid. Can you still buy Light and Bitter? But more important can you imagine four pints for less than a quid? That’s sixty eight pence and then at closing time a walk to the Farnham Road, Special Omelette and Chips from the Chinese. Thirty pence. Runny egg, loads of grease, spoiled tomato, curled ham, and chips that have never seen a potato let alone been one, but who cares after four pints? I didn’t that’s for sure, it tasted supreme and I still had change from the same pound. Two P, to add to the many P’s I had on the walk to the Chinese. Today you can get an omelette from the pub, but back then all you could get from a pub was pissed. Nostalgia is a wonderful thing.
And that was the story for about 2 years, every Sunday, as regular as a man who eats loads of roughage, we walked up the hill just as the doors open. Two pints waiting on the bar. We knew Barman B very well by this time. And during that two years I got hooked on darts. So the first thing we did was screw the two parts of the darts to together and careful place the special flights in the end. Drink very quickly half that first pint. Oh does it taste good, and doesn’t it make the dart board look so small. Walk to the Ocky, wiggle your toes, get the right posture, loosen the fingers, flex the arm, aim at the treble twenty, lets get a good start. Deep breath and throw. Standing there watching, almost in slow motion, it flies from your hand, till it smashes into the wall. The flight falls out. The dart point bends, and the back part, with those four slots the flight fits into, breaks. Useless now until I get some replacements. So barman B tells me is Fifty P for a go. Well as you know after two pints its more than fifty P’s, I have nearer seventy five. ( But this Fifty P is for the use of the pubs darts, not the number of trips to the loo ) but most of those other seventy five are on the walk home, I’m like a leaking dog, every lamp post is a lamp post to many. If I ever get lost I can always sniff my way back to the pub.
Well that night I was Extremely good. I Bounced the darts off the wall, of the wire, off the floor and then off the head , then shoulder of the scorer, which resulted in me being banned from playing anymore that night. So with nothing more to do, I got out another fifty P and had two more pints.
The next day with Monday morning hangover clearing, I realised I had lost my darts, maybe I had left them at the pub? So I waited till I got home and asked mummy to phone them up and see if I’d left them there. Mummy? Well I was only **. So being a good mum, she phoned. As I sat in the kitchen as she checked the directory, then finger in the dial, then turning the dial. Wasn’t that so much slower than now, where you just smash the numbers on the pad as hard and as quickly as possible. So she dialled the number, and then said “Hello are you the Emperor of India?” silence. Then a smile spread on her face. Then it turned into a laugh. She put the phone back. I looked at her with that “ What the hell are you doing? You didn’t ask them about my darts? Idiot! How could you? Did you phone the wrong number. Come on I can’t wait for ever. What happened?“ So I shouted at her, in a very quiet voice and very politely “ mum?” She looked at me and laughing said ”when I asked him if he was the Emperor of India, he said Yes dear, are you the Queen of Sheba?” I looked dumb founded. More so than usual.
But that one sentance is etched in my memory and will never go. The look on her face, the confusion, then realisation and them humour, all in one second of facial expressions. I will never forget it and so now I can’t think of Emperor without thinking of that day and her.
So looking back I can see that the “Emperor of India” who ever he was, moved me on from a boy into a lad. Suddenly there was now a new world out there. One with alcohol and females, and darts and space invaders, more alcohol and ham or cheese rolls, and playing cards for money, scoring double on the dart board, finally getting my hands on the the ultimate “DD”, and of course even more alcohol. And suddenly the worry of leaving school and becoming an Engineer Apprentice, was not as bad. Learning how to use a Lathe, Milling Machine, Surface Grinder and Shaping Machine, was the same as learning English, Geograpy, History or Maths. Leaving the Dehydrated Doughnuts behind was not so bad either. I had a local now, drinking mates and eventually my first real girl friend.
So thanks to that unknown Emperor, and also to the Queen of Sheba, at least I know who she is.
Oh and Eskdale, taught me a whole lot more so more about that next week
Hell no, lets deal with them now? But first what does Electro mean? check it out.
but then we have Magnetic, now anyone who knows me, will know I have a magnetic personality, once I know you, you are stuck to me, and like a magnet I will not let go. So maybe that should have been ElectroGlue? Well unless of course we have the same Poles, I.e. you are just like me, 52, going bald, a pound or two to many, knee giving up etc, then we definitely do not get on. As any scientist will tell you opposite poles attract, and the same don’t. Is that where the saying “ Poles a Part” comes from then, or is it as Burnham Bert says “Its when a husband from Gdansk moves to Slough, and leaves his wife at home, they are Poles a Part”
Electrocute? well I am Cute, or so its been said. Don’t believe me?
Well my Aunt S said it when I was 6 weeks old and I nearly got a contract with Anchor Butter. Mum and me were going to be the stars in a 10 year advertising campaign, at least three ads a year watching how I grow up eating Anchor. So Aunt S said to the man that I was cute, and she should know, unless you think she was buttering them up? Who knows. But me Nan needed to cook me Granddad’s dinner so we had to go, and the world lost the next Arnie Anchor, or Sylvester Stork, maybe Bruce Lurpak, real slippery movie star names. With all that butter eating I could have been Cholesterol Man. On the down side I’d probably have had a heart attack by now and lost all my good looks.
And what of the others which begin with Electro? They are only to show I know a few more big words.
But as I write this there are two which stand out. Really? they do. And the two. Eskdale and Emperor.
So what is an Eskdale? Who is Eskdale? Go and Google it and find out. I may give a clue next week
That leaves Emperor. Honesty forbids me to sit here an lie to you, so the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Yeah right. That may come later, but the question you should be asking is, have I been known to sit and lie in the past?
I know I can sit and type and watch TV, I’m doing that now. I have been known to sit and eat my dinner without spilling it. I know I can lie and lift my legs up in the air and hold them there for about thirty seconds before my head starts to hammer. Hammer what?I can hear you ask. And I know, I know I should get up and grab a mallet or something when I feel like hammering but I enjoy hammering my head, and now you know where that little dimple in the middle of my forehead comes from. But how do I know its thirty seconds? I don’t. If I had said three minutes, you’d know I was lying, if I’d said ten seconds you’d think me a wimp, but thirty seconds seemed like a manly number. I can also lie and watch TV, not mastered the lying down and eating my dinner yet. But can i sit and lie at the same time?
But back to Emperor, No I have not been lucky and met one of the ruling class of feudal Japan. No it’s the name of the pub that taught me to drink. Ok, Ok I have been drinking from day one , water, milk, squash ( all flavours except strawberry, The Male J of J&J loved that one!! ) and the occasional shandy, all under the watchful eye of Mum and Dad Lessall, but now we are talking Beer, Spirits, in other words Alcohol. So the Emperor was the place that helped me move a way from the boys stuff I did in the evening, and you know what i am talking about lads don’t you? To what the older boys do in the evening. just more of the same. Booze.
Its full name is “The Emperor of India”, which one it was named after I have no idea, and frankly don’t much care, all I know it’s the place I bought my first pint. Legal or not that’s up to you to find out. The year was 1972, and pubs were so much different them. I remember P talked me in to going there and so we walked, yep walked. Didn’t I own a car? No, but maybe age had something to do with that? What was my poison back then, well a pint of Light and Bitter, 17 pence. Four pints and change from a quid. Can you still buy Light and Bitter? But more important can you imagine four pints for less than a quid? That’s sixty eight pence and then at closing time a walk to the Farnham Road, Special Omelette and Chips from the Chinese. Thirty pence. Runny egg, loads of grease, spoiled tomato, curled ham, and chips that have never seen a potato let alone been one, but who cares after four pints? I didn’t that’s for sure, it tasted supreme and I still had change from the same pound. Two P, to add to the many P’s I had on the walk to the Chinese. Today you can get an omelette from the pub, but back then all you could get from a pub was pissed. Nostalgia is a wonderful thing.
And that was the story for about 2 years, every Sunday, as regular as a man who eats loads of roughage, we walked up the hill just as the doors open. Two pints waiting on the bar. We knew Barman B very well by this time. And during that two years I got hooked on darts. So the first thing we did was screw the two parts of the darts to together and careful place the special flights in the end. Drink very quickly half that first pint. Oh does it taste good, and doesn’t it make the dart board look so small. Walk to the Ocky, wiggle your toes, get the right posture, loosen the fingers, flex the arm, aim at the treble twenty, lets get a good start. Deep breath and throw. Standing there watching, almost in slow motion, it flies from your hand, till it smashes into the wall. The flight falls out. The dart point bends, and the back part, with those four slots the flight fits into, breaks. Useless now until I get some replacements. So barman B tells me is Fifty P for a go. Well as you know after two pints its more than fifty P’s, I have nearer seventy five. ( But this Fifty P is for the use of the pubs darts, not the number of trips to the loo ) but most of those other seventy five are on the walk home, I’m like a leaking dog, every lamp post is a lamp post to many. If I ever get lost I can always sniff my way back to the pub.
Well that night I was Extremely good. I Bounced the darts off the wall, of the wire, off the floor and then off the head , then shoulder of the scorer, which resulted in me being banned from playing anymore that night. So with nothing more to do, I got out another fifty P and had two more pints.
The next day with Monday morning hangover clearing, I realised I had lost my darts, maybe I had left them at the pub? So I waited till I got home and asked mummy to phone them up and see if I’d left them there. Mummy? Well I was only **. So being a good mum, she phoned. As I sat in the kitchen as she checked the directory, then finger in the dial, then turning the dial. Wasn’t that so much slower than now, where you just smash the numbers on the pad as hard and as quickly as possible. So she dialled the number, and then said “Hello are you the Emperor of India?” silence. Then a smile spread on her face. Then it turned into a laugh. She put the phone back. I looked at her with that “ What the hell are you doing? You didn’t ask them about my darts? Idiot! How could you? Did you phone the wrong number. Come on I can’t wait for ever. What happened?“ So I shouted at her, in a very quiet voice and very politely “ mum?” She looked at me and laughing said ”when I asked him if he was the Emperor of India, he said Yes dear, are you the Queen of Sheba?” I looked dumb founded. More so than usual.
But that one sentance is etched in my memory and will never go. The look on her face, the confusion, then realisation and them humour, all in one second of facial expressions. I will never forget it and so now I can’t think of Emperor without thinking of that day and her.
So looking back I can see that the “Emperor of India” who ever he was, moved me on from a boy into a lad. Suddenly there was now a new world out there. One with alcohol and females, and darts and space invaders, more alcohol and ham or cheese rolls, and playing cards for money, scoring double on the dart board, finally getting my hands on the the ultimate “DD”, and of course even more alcohol. And suddenly the worry of leaving school and becoming an Engineer Apprentice, was not as bad. Learning how to use a Lathe, Milling Machine, Surface Grinder and Shaping Machine, was the same as learning English, Geograpy, History or Maths. Leaving the Dehydrated Doughnuts behind was not so bad either. I had a local now, drinking mates and eventually my first real girl friend.
So thanks to that unknown Emperor, and also to the Queen of Sheba, at least I know who she is.
Oh and Eskdale, taught me a whole lot more so more about that next week
Monday 24 November 2008
D is for Danger
Hi today is the Day, that you finally find out why D is for Doughnuts. D even looks a bit like a Doughnut. If it was on its side. But the Doughnuts I am thinking of are not made by Sainsbury’s and covered in sweet sugar, filled with strawberry jam. Now come on, lets be honest, the only doughnuts are those filled with jam, not toffee, not custard, but good old strawberry jam. The man who first thought of pushing jam inside dough deserves a medal, preferable not made of dough and not filled with jam.
So what other D for Doughnut is there? Well back in years gone by there was another D my invention, a Double D really but back in the days when i never really appreciated a DD, which took the world of slough by storm. I joined a 5 a side football team, and after a lot of soul searching, and have you ever done that, searched for a soul. Well we spent hours doing it, near Bluebell Wood as it was always know when we were young, but which has now been changed for some reason to Cocksherd Woods. History and trivia over, we searched for ages and found two souls, well two soles really one off the left foot of an old pair of Wellingtons, and the other off a small left footed plimsoll. So you asked how did in know it was off an old pair of Wellingtons, well I replied, because the right one was still tied by string the left one, minus its sole which was stuffed into the foot of the right one. Weird, but hey we are talking about slough at the beginning of the seventies.
Any way back to D, after many a Day and night, not spent in Bluebell / Cocksherd wood ( Bluebell small plant in the lily family, having blue trumpet shaped flowers. Cocks an adult male chicken, or various other birds, weathervane, faucet or valve, hammer of a firearm, or something we can’t talk about in a family show. Also means leader or chief. Herd group of mammals or animals living together. So what does that name mean?) Bluebell sounds so much better.
But back to the soul searching. We sat in Pete’s back room, we called it Pete’s back room cause well… we liked the name. Pete actually lived next door and we didn’t like him much, but when ever we wanted to meet up we’d say “ see you later in Pete’s back room” by saying that we knew to meet in Alan's shed. But everyone at school thought Pete was one of the gang. The first time we said it, Colin told Pete and he waited in for about an hour, realised we were not going to turn up so went back to his front room and watched the Minder on T.V.
Pete never trusted Colin again. Tough.
So that night in Alan’s’ shed the Dehydrated Doughnuts were born. Not a name I bet you are familiar with, and to be honest it didn’t set the world alight, but what it did was take a group of 15 years olds and moulded them in a real group. We sat in Alan’s shed, drinking our Irnbru and Corona Shandy. Promising to rid the world of evil, diseases, and Liverpool fans. We had a plan. To win the football competition and stay mates for ever. Well we didn’t win the competition but we did manage to get through the first three rounds, which was a part success i guess?
But did we do better in our quest to make the world a better place? Unfortunately no. We met for another three weeks after the competition ende, in Alan’s shed till we left school.
We then all started work in different places and as is the way with school mates. We never met again. the Dehydrated Doughtnuts Disintergrated. we had so may plans, ideas and things to see and do. live in Aussie land, yeah ok, maybe there was the sweet smell of somthing effecting us but we got over it, earn a million pounds a year, well mayube if they kept the lire i might have made it, and finally play professional football. seeing as we got beat in the fourth round by a team of only three players and one of them was sent off. maybe that was a dream to far.
Now as I am nearing the end of my 52nd year I find this really sad. There must be tens of people ( if I said 100’s you’d probably think I was a liar, and you’d be right ) we have become close to in our lives, who come in, mean something special and then move on out again. What happens to them we don’t know.
So I went back to Fiends Re-United and looked up my old school and checked if any of the names where there. Reactivated my account, and wonder what that might bring?
But the real question now. Do I contact them and if so what do I say. With most of them nearly 40 years has passed, what do I have in common with them now? A life that does no longer exist? A school which has had a name change to improve its image, was almost closed and had half the pupils moved to other schools as the staff at the time could not cope.
So here I am waiting with finger over the send button not sure what to do?
i am not the same person as i was then. i have grown, in age in confidence, in status and in weight, thats the one thats moved on the most. it almost has a will of its own.
but i am still here waiting with finger over the button.
will they still like me? will i still like them? what have we in common? a time, a piece of history? a photo in a school book that will never be published and never read. will it be a waste of time?
i don't know. who does?
Help
D is also for Developing and as I write this I have loads of ideas on how this should work, and D is also for Dairy, ops sorry I meant Diary, thank goodness for a spell check. Not as good as a real cheque from the lottery for a million pounds but hey, D is still for Dreaming. This will hopefully evolve into something huge. Bit like my waist line, or waste, as it takes a fortune to get but does not good at all. Weight loss? Not at my age unfortunately
so do i press the button or not?
i have a week, or am i to weak, to make up my mind, or have it made for me
So what other D for Doughnut is there? Well back in years gone by there was another D my invention, a Double D really but back in the days when i never really appreciated a DD, which took the world of slough by storm. I joined a 5 a side football team, and after a lot of soul searching, and have you ever done that, searched for a soul. Well we spent hours doing it, near Bluebell Wood as it was always know when we were young, but which has now been changed for some reason to Cocksherd Woods. History and trivia over, we searched for ages and found two souls, well two soles really one off the left foot of an old pair of Wellingtons, and the other off a small left footed plimsoll. So you asked how did in know it was off an old pair of Wellingtons, well I replied, because the right one was still tied by string the left one, minus its sole which was stuffed into the foot of the right one. Weird, but hey we are talking about slough at the beginning of the seventies.
Any way back to D, after many a Day and night, not spent in Bluebell / Cocksherd wood ( Bluebell small plant in the lily family, having blue trumpet shaped flowers. Cocks an adult male chicken, or various other birds, weathervane, faucet or valve, hammer of a firearm, or something we can’t talk about in a family show. Also means leader or chief. Herd group of mammals or animals living together. So what does that name mean?) Bluebell sounds so much better.
But back to the soul searching. We sat in Pete’s back room, we called it Pete’s back room cause well… we liked the name. Pete actually lived next door and we didn’t like him much, but when ever we wanted to meet up we’d say “ see you later in Pete’s back room” by saying that we knew to meet in Alan's shed. But everyone at school thought Pete was one of the gang. The first time we said it, Colin told Pete and he waited in for about an hour, realised we were not going to turn up so went back to his front room and watched the Minder on T.V.
Pete never trusted Colin again. Tough.
So that night in Alan’s’ shed the Dehydrated Doughnuts were born. Not a name I bet you are familiar with, and to be honest it didn’t set the world alight, but what it did was take a group of 15 years olds and moulded them in a real group. We sat in Alan’s shed, drinking our Irnbru and Corona Shandy. Promising to rid the world of evil, diseases, and Liverpool fans. We had a plan. To win the football competition and stay mates for ever. Well we didn’t win the competition but we did manage to get through the first three rounds, which was a part success i guess?
But did we do better in our quest to make the world a better place? Unfortunately no. We met for another three weeks after the competition ende, in Alan’s shed till we left school.
We then all started work in different places and as is the way with school mates. We never met again. the Dehydrated Doughtnuts Disintergrated. we had so may plans, ideas and things to see and do. live in Aussie land, yeah ok, maybe there was the sweet smell of somthing effecting us but we got over it, earn a million pounds a year, well mayube if they kept the lire i might have made it, and finally play professional football. seeing as we got beat in the fourth round by a team of only three players and one of them was sent off. maybe that was a dream to far.
Now as I am nearing the end of my 52nd year I find this really sad. There must be tens of people ( if I said 100’s you’d probably think I was a liar, and you’d be right ) we have become close to in our lives, who come in, mean something special and then move on out again. What happens to them we don’t know.
So I went back to Fiends Re-United and looked up my old school and checked if any of the names where there. Reactivated my account, and wonder what that might bring?
But the real question now. Do I contact them and if so what do I say. With most of them nearly 40 years has passed, what do I have in common with them now? A life that does no longer exist? A school which has had a name change to improve its image, was almost closed and had half the pupils moved to other schools as the staff at the time could not cope.
So here I am waiting with finger over the send button not sure what to do?
i am not the same person as i was then. i have grown, in age in confidence, in status and in weight, thats the one thats moved on the most. it almost has a will of its own.
but i am still here waiting with finger over the button.
will they still like me? will i still like them? what have we in common? a time, a piece of history? a photo in a school book that will never be published and never read. will it be a waste of time?
i don't know. who does?
Help
D is also for Developing and as I write this I have loads of ideas on how this should work, and D is also for Dairy, ops sorry I meant Diary, thank goodness for a spell check. Not as good as a real cheque from the lottery for a million pounds but hey, D is still for Dreaming. This will hopefully evolve into something huge. Bit like my waist line, or waste, as it takes a fortune to get but does not good at all. Weight loss? Not at my age unfortunately
so do i press the button or not?
i have a week, or am i to weak, to make up my mind, or have it made for me
Monday 17 November 2008
D for Derrrr, why the wait
Yep D is for Doughnuts, and D is also for Delay, so apologies for not being here on time but I hope you will forgive me when I tell you the reason why.
Last week it was my, or I suppose I should say, our anniversary. They call it the Pearl one, so maybe I should have bought something pearly, but when it was explained to me that Pearl is for thirty years, I had to sit down and have a little cry, er think about what that means. Thirty years, so back in 1978 as a young and inexperienced, but incredibly handsome young boy, I was ripped from my mothers house and sent out into the big bad world. Thirty years. Now half of the three of you reading this wasn’t even born then. And there I was moving into a small newly built flat in Wexham, where we came face to face with our first poltergeist. Now that’s another story for another Day but back to the anniversary, and the other shock that became apparent as I sat there wiping my wet eyes is that seeing as I had no D for Daughters at home to buy a card for me, I had to boldly go where no Lessall has gone before. I walked into a newsagent, and looked at the cards. Now I am not that experienced at buying cards, its an art i am told that take years to master, one i am glad to say i have not. and ever since the girls have been old enough to cross the road I have got one of them to buy them for me. Birthday, Xmas etc, me and my money have not been parted for the price of a piece of cardboard. I was a virgin again.
They will at least look at the cards, read the message and buy what’s appropriate. Where as I look at the price and buy the most inexpensive. its a case of in and out as fast as i can as the Bishop once said, twice, on his third account. now don't start me on reliegion, thats a real 5 pager. So for the first time in about 15 years, my wife got a card that I have bought, but also probably the smallest one she has ever received. To say it could have fitted inside a match box is an exaggeration, just. But hey it’s the thought that counts and I thought my girls were cruel to make me go out and buy one.
There was at least three cards of similar value. So I stood looking at the cards not knowing what to do. when suddenly I realised I was being watched. I needed to act quickly.
Now this is the weird thing. If I was looking at the stuff on the top shelf, flicking them open and leering at the pages. excuse me while i wipe my mouth with a tissue, or opening the big girls calendar 2009 ( priced £1.99 published by the Definate Maybe society in conjunction with the Silicon enhancement Society ) and stopping at Miss May, and hope she Might, and if she did would she for me. ( But hey that’s just a D for Dream. ) I would not feel embarrassed, but looking at anniversary cards was really weird
So after careful consideration and lots of looking over my shoulder, I plumped for the pink one. Well it is more feminine than the blue one or the one with the photograph of the 23 stone rugby guy being grabbed by the shorts ( nothin personal meant there ) and lifted in to the air.
But it was close. If the man behind the counter hadn’t pointed me out to one of his customers who with a tut of her head, and boy that was something to see, I might have been there still. as it was i bought the card, asked for a brown paper bag, placed the card in my pocket, yes it was that small, and used the brown paper bag to collect the rubbish that had built up inside the car. where does that come from? empty chip cans, coke wrappers, chewing biscuits and not least chocolate gum. maybe i got as bit confused at this stage.
But the card was bought and I done the hubby thing and gave it to her in advance. So being the man of romance I also offered to take her to the local pub for a nice little meal and half a shandy, well for Christ sakes it has been thirty years. And she has been washing my smalls for along time. I meant underwear in case anyone was thinking anything different. So I thought Scampi and Shandy was a good touch. But couldn't understand why the funny face when i suggested we went halves on the bill, for Christ sakes its my anniversary as well. Did she think all i wanted was a bloody card!!!!!
Well i did get something else as well later that evening :)
A box of washing powder and told to clean my own bloody smalls. hows that for being ungrateful. Anyway that over and done with it was time to get back to normality, which meant the next segment of my A -Z. so when Saturday came, I had a pre planned bit of carpentry to be taken care of, then to sit down and explain about D for Doughnuts. And its not just those lovely sugary wonderfully tasting buns made by Sainsbury and eaten by me. No the word Doughnut goes back to my youth but we D for Digress. The younger of the D for Daughters came over with D for Danny and Little Aflie and all of a sudden we was off around Windsor, doing a bit of shopping and feeding the D for Ducks. Well to cut a long story short. Short !!!! Yeah I thought that would go down well, we got back home and found the Lessall D for Domicile full of friends, family and ffff neighbours. The D for Daughters had arranged a surprise party for us. The anniversary has been prolonged. Well as a fifty something husband and a Doting Dad I did the only thing i could do in this situation I proceed to get D for Drunk. That red wine was sooooooo nice.
So a big thanks to the girls and for the big man and family, who my mum says looks like my older brother she gave away at birth, for all the hard work. It was a great surprise and we D for Dedicate this to all of them who turned up and made an old man very happy, plus me and the Mrs.
Thanks
Anyway basically I did not write it cause I could not. Early to bed then not to much to do on Sunday and then its Monday and boy was I late. So here is my formal apology.
Normal service will be resumed as long as I am not tempted to D for Drink again.
So what did you get up to this weekend?
Last week it was my, or I suppose I should say, our anniversary. They call it the Pearl one, so maybe I should have bought something pearly, but when it was explained to me that Pearl is for thirty years, I had to sit down and have a little cry, er think about what that means. Thirty years, so back in 1978 as a young and inexperienced, but incredibly handsome young boy, I was ripped from my mothers house and sent out into the big bad world. Thirty years. Now half of the three of you reading this wasn’t even born then. And there I was moving into a small newly built flat in Wexham, where we came face to face with our first poltergeist. Now that’s another story for another Day but back to the anniversary, and the other shock that became apparent as I sat there wiping my wet eyes is that seeing as I had no D for Daughters at home to buy a card for me, I had to boldly go where no Lessall has gone before. I walked into a newsagent, and looked at the cards. Now I am not that experienced at buying cards, its an art i am told that take years to master, one i am glad to say i have not. and ever since the girls have been old enough to cross the road I have got one of them to buy them for me. Birthday, Xmas etc, me and my money have not been parted for the price of a piece of cardboard. I was a virgin again.
They will at least look at the cards, read the message and buy what’s appropriate. Where as I look at the price and buy the most inexpensive. its a case of in and out as fast as i can as the Bishop once said, twice, on his third account. now don't start me on reliegion, thats a real 5 pager. So for the first time in about 15 years, my wife got a card that I have bought, but also probably the smallest one she has ever received. To say it could have fitted inside a match box is an exaggeration, just. But hey it’s the thought that counts and I thought my girls were cruel to make me go out and buy one.
There was at least three cards of similar value. So I stood looking at the cards not knowing what to do. when suddenly I realised I was being watched. I needed to act quickly.
Now this is the weird thing. If I was looking at the stuff on the top shelf, flicking them open and leering at the pages. excuse me while i wipe my mouth with a tissue, or opening the big girls calendar 2009 ( priced £1.99 published by the Definate Maybe society in conjunction with the Silicon enhancement Society ) and stopping at Miss May, and hope she Might, and if she did would she for me. ( But hey that’s just a D for Dream. ) I would not feel embarrassed, but looking at anniversary cards was really weird
So after careful consideration and lots of looking over my shoulder, I plumped for the pink one. Well it is more feminine than the blue one or the one with the photograph of the 23 stone rugby guy being grabbed by the shorts ( nothin personal meant there ) and lifted in to the air.
But it was close. If the man behind the counter hadn’t pointed me out to one of his customers who with a tut of her head, and boy that was something to see, I might have been there still. as it was i bought the card, asked for a brown paper bag, placed the card in my pocket, yes it was that small, and used the brown paper bag to collect the rubbish that had built up inside the car. where does that come from? empty chip cans, coke wrappers, chewing biscuits and not least chocolate gum. maybe i got as bit confused at this stage.
But the card was bought and I done the hubby thing and gave it to her in advance. So being the man of romance I also offered to take her to the local pub for a nice little meal and half a shandy, well for Christ sakes it has been thirty years. And she has been washing my smalls for along time. I meant underwear in case anyone was thinking anything different. So I thought Scampi and Shandy was a good touch. But couldn't understand why the funny face when i suggested we went halves on the bill, for Christ sakes its my anniversary as well. Did she think all i wanted was a bloody card!!!!!
Well i did get something else as well later that evening :)
A box of washing powder and told to clean my own bloody smalls. hows that for being ungrateful. Anyway that over and done with it was time to get back to normality, which meant the next segment of my A -Z. so when Saturday came, I had a pre planned bit of carpentry to be taken care of, then to sit down and explain about D for Doughnuts. And its not just those lovely sugary wonderfully tasting buns made by Sainsbury and eaten by me. No the word Doughnut goes back to my youth but we D for Digress. The younger of the D for Daughters came over with D for Danny and Little Aflie and all of a sudden we was off around Windsor, doing a bit of shopping and feeding the D for Ducks. Well to cut a long story short. Short !!!! Yeah I thought that would go down well, we got back home and found the Lessall D for Domicile full of friends, family and ffff neighbours. The D for Daughters had arranged a surprise party for us. The anniversary has been prolonged. Well as a fifty something husband and a Doting Dad I did the only thing i could do in this situation I proceed to get D for Drunk. That red wine was sooooooo nice.
So a big thanks to the girls and for the big man and family, who my mum says looks like my older brother she gave away at birth, for all the hard work. It was a great surprise and we D for Dedicate this to all of them who turned up and made an old man very happy, plus me and the Mrs.
Thanks
Anyway basically I did not write it cause I could not. Early to bed then not to much to do on Sunday and then its Monday and boy was I late. So here is my formal apology.
Normal service will be resumed as long as I am not tempted to D for Drink again.
So what did you get up to this weekend?
Saturday 8 November 2008
C is Also for Controversy
So there I was at the beginning of the week, Contemplating the reason for my existence and wondering why Meg Ryan hasn’t returned my call when I realised I had not phoned her in the first place.
This obviously makes it difficultly for her to phone me back.
So then I sat there contemplating why she had not phoned me in the first place to leave an number with which I could phone her back, when it dawned on me, which is one of those really nice expressions. Dawned, which is a nice girls name, Dawn, but means something else as well. I love names like that. So we will be giving a fabled “Lessall Gram” for any one who gives me ten names like that. ( a special Lessall Gram for the person who can create a Lessall Gram )
So it dawned on me, which sounds better than Susanned on me or Tina’d on me, or Crapped on me, but don't really know any anyone called Crap. been called it a few times in my life, as well as few others Choice words, which really does not work.
So It dawned on me that she didn’t know my number.
Can you believe that. Here I have perved for her for years and she doesn’t even know I exist. So now I am in two minds ( no we will not go there again, YES WE WILL, no we won’t ) whether I should open up my pervyness to others or continue in my single mindedness about her.
The clock is ticking Meg Ryan, which is weird cause it’s a digital one, and the ticking is getting bloody annoying.
So it was the beginning of the week and we here the Credit Crunch has finally bitten at me and work was a pain, and the info coming from it was not good. So with heavy heart on Tuesday or was it wednesday evening, does it really mater? no i guess not. its still the same story, so i sat on my own and drunk another bottle of cobra, when there it was.
I looked twice, and yep there it was
I know what you are saying, how could they, I know I said the same. But there it was.
not a mirage, ok i don't know why i would think it was a french fighter plane, when it was a documentary i was watching. but i was drinking.
there it was on the TV and Channel Five had stolen my story. you got it first here, albeit about a week after the newspapers but hey, it’s a weekly Blog, if I could see in to the future I’d be rich and dining with Meg Ryan tonight, cause I’d know her number, she’d know mine and all would be happy in paradise. But as this is the real world, I may be out of work soon, some of the people I have know for a long time may be out of work and the bloody TV have nicked my story. Can itget any worse.well lof course it can, god i am stupid some days. but i am doing that digressing thing again.
Apart from the video clips and the comments and the interviews and the celebrities and the story and the whole investigation, it could have been my story. See we are at the cutting edge of the news. Bought to you here first and at second hand with third rate comments issuing forth on five. See this place is like big business, the whole world is a numbers game and if the numbers don't add up then the sums don't work, and neither may i in a few weeks if my company make me redundant, any way for some it has run out.
a good story will runn for ever given the chance to make money, and i am the only on so far who has not made any from this story.
Be here next week as D is for Doughnuts, and boy do I love Doughnuts
This obviously makes it difficultly for her to phone me back.
So then I sat there contemplating why she had not phoned me in the first place to leave an number with which I could phone her back, when it dawned on me, which is one of those really nice expressions. Dawned, which is a nice girls name, Dawn, but means something else as well. I love names like that. So we will be giving a fabled “Lessall Gram” for any one who gives me ten names like that. ( a special Lessall Gram for the person who can create a Lessall Gram )
So it dawned on me, which sounds better than Susanned on me or Tina’d on me, or Crapped on me, but don't really know any anyone called Crap. been called it a few times in my life, as well as few others Choice words, which really does not work.
So It dawned on me that she didn’t know my number.
Can you believe that. Here I have perved for her for years and she doesn’t even know I exist. So now I am in two minds ( no we will not go there again, YES WE WILL, no we won’t ) whether I should open up my pervyness to others or continue in my single mindedness about her.
The clock is ticking Meg Ryan, which is weird cause it’s a digital one, and the ticking is getting bloody annoying.
So it was the beginning of the week and we here the Credit Crunch has finally bitten at me and work was a pain, and the info coming from it was not good. So with heavy heart on Tuesday or was it wednesday evening, does it really mater? no i guess not. its still the same story, so i sat on my own and drunk another bottle of cobra, when there it was.
I looked twice, and yep there it was
I know what you are saying, how could they, I know I said the same. But there it was.
not a mirage, ok i don't know why i would think it was a french fighter plane, when it was a documentary i was watching. but i was drinking.
there it was on the TV and Channel Five had stolen my story. you got it first here, albeit about a week after the newspapers but hey, it’s a weekly Blog, if I could see in to the future I’d be rich and dining with Meg Ryan tonight, cause I’d know her number, she’d know mine and all would be happy in paradise. But as this is the real world, I may be out of work soon, some of the people I have know for a long time may be out of work and the bloody TV have nicked my story. Can itget any worse.well lof course it can, god i am stupid some days. but i am doing that digressing thing again.
Apart from the video clips and the comments and the interviews and the celebrities and the story and the whole investigation, it could have been my story. See we are at the cutting edge of the news. Bought to you here first and at second hand with third rate comments issuing forth on five. See this place is like big business, the whole world is a numbers game and if the numbers don't add up then the sums don't work, and neither may i in a few weeks if my company make me redundant, any way for some it has run out.
a good story will runn for ever given the chance to make money, and i am the only on so far who has not made any from this story.
Be here next week as D is for Doughnuts, and boy do I love Doughnuts
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