Fit... to drop

I have to really careful and not turn into the stereotypical Englishman - always on about the weather; so just a couple of photographs today (click on the pics to enlarge) to illustrate my point of the joys of having holiday time in the UK with the kind of weather we just love.

I've been trying the Wii Fit today, only for the second time and its not too bad, I've not made a fool of myself - yet. I think the yoga is very good and although I have difficulty in controlling my breathing while stood on one leg like a demented stork, my balance is superb as my centre of gravity is bang in the middle it seems. Now here's the rub - it says, based on my age, weight and my balance that I have a body fitness of a 20 year old! Hmm, I think its credibility is definitely on the ropes, that's why I'm on a diet and walking 4.5Km three times a week for fun and JUST fitting into a 44" waist pair of slacks.

My mother, who is an exceptional baker and cook in general made me a cake today, low/no fat sponge cake with just a slither of jam in the middle. It was... interesting if not a little chewy, but tasty. It is not however, her normal standard of coffee cake (with walnuts on top) or chocolate cake which are to die for.

Despite my weight (it's still coming off, the Wii said I'd lost three pounds in seven days) I actually used to be quite fit at school. I ran the cross country in about 12 minutes, one and two hundred metres in a good schoolboy time and putted the shot (is that the right phrase?) I remember however the turning point; I once ran the 400 metres and half way through I felt a terrible pain which must have been a stitch I suppose and at the end, I was feeling physically sick. From that day to this, around 36 years, I have never run any distance to talk of. I really think I need to do a little short distance jogging, but my fear is that until I lose some more weight, I might do myself some damage.

My good blogger friend Middle-aged-gapper is running 10Km races in around 60 minutes which is superb and he is just a year or so younger than me. I can walk half that distance in one hour, so there may be hope for me yet.

Well the weekend is here and time for this weeks thought for the day, this time about balls.

After a 2 year study, the National Science Foundation announced the following results on America's recreational preferences:

1. The sport of choice for unemployed or incarcerated people is: basketball.
2. The sport of choice for maintenance level employees is: bowling.
3. The sport of choice for blue-collar workers is: football.
4. The sport of choice for supervisors is: baseball.
5. The sport of choice for middle management is: tennis.
6. The sport of choice for corporate officers is: golf.

Conclusion: The higher you rise in the corporate structure, the smaller your balls become.

With thanks to http://sportzfun.com/

Have a great weekend

Chat soon

Ta-ra.

Rain, rain go away...

This children's rhyme, which has its origin in Elizabethan times when the British fleet defeated the Spanish Armada and were helped enormously when the weather turned nasty is as applicable today as it was in 1588:

Rain, rain go away,
Come again another day.
Little Johnny wants to play;
Rain, rain, go to Spain,
Never show your face again!

The funniest story today in the news is that the Met Office has revised its earlier long term forecast from a long hot summer into cool and showers. There's a surprise! It appears, even odder that the Met Office coined the phrase 'barbecue summer' to help the papers write their headlines. More science required, less puffery. Now of course, we can't blame the Met Office for the rubbish weather but they can be blamed for raising expectations, but perhaps we should expect the weather in the UK to be average to poor most of the time anyway.

The grass is green, the plants healthy, the populace pale and decidedly damp. The temperature in my garden today at the height of the afternoon is just 15 degrees Celsius.

Weather folklore is fascinating and has been built up over the years before forecasting was in any way considered a science. Mostly, I'm told, there is modern scientific basis for many of the sayings which renders them true in the main.

Some of the more popular for example:

Red sky at night, shepherds delight; red sky in the morning, shepherd's warning. In other words, rain is on the way and generally that's true. A red sunrise reflects the dust particles of a system that has just passed from the west. This indicates that a storm system may be moving to the east. If the morning sky is a deep fiery red, it means a high water content in the atmosphere. So, rain is on its way.

In Hull, although the fish industry is about finished there apart from some processing, if you can smell fish in the air, it will rain and normally that happens but I have no idea why.

Even plants tell us about forthcoming weather according to folklore: Daisies shut their petals before rain, if the dogwood flowers, there will be no more frost; when dew is on the grass, rain shall not come to pass.

Animals are supposed to predict bad weather: Birds fly low, expect wind and blow; frogs will call before the rain, but when the sun shines will be quiet again. Of course anyone who has ever had cats know that when the cat's in front of the fire, it's too cold to do anything outside.

Of course, the burning weather question is: How does the person who drives the snowplough get to work?

Chat soon

Ta-ra.

The Nelthorpes of Scawby Hall

Sounds like a BBC period costume drama. Well it could be and we've just visited the set. My wife and I (makes her sound like royalty - HA) with our youngest visited Scawby Hall in North Lincolnshire (click on the image above to enlarge it).

This is a little jewel in the crown of this part of the country and makes this great land what it is today - our history, our heritage, the measure of where we were to where we have arrived today - something to compare with.

The name Scawby which is awkward sounding (like a posh crow's call), is from the Old Scandinavian Skalli+by, or "Village of Skalli". In the 1086 Domesday book, the village is given as Scallebi, so it's been around for a bit. The Nelthorpes built it, owned it and it's still in the family.

Let me put this into context. My house, pleasant and utility as it is, comfortable and reasonable to run was built in 1971, just 38 years ago, indeed I was a teenager when it was built. The build began at Scawby Hall in 1605 - four hundred and five years ago, which on average equals 20 generations (roughly five per century). It's a Jacobean house which has been added to over the years by successive generations of the same family who own it to this very day, but all in keeping with the original design, and we owe them a lot of thanks because wandering round this great Hall and grounds is like taking a snapshot of a long forgotten time.

The Hall has only been open to the public since May this year (although the gardens have been open a lot longer), it cost us £6 to get in although family tickets are cheaper, and we had a volunteer tour guide called Dave. Sadly, whilst photography isn't allowed in the house, there is a great guide book which is very detailed. If ever you are about this part of the world (just off the M180) I thoroughly recommend it, but don't take small kids, they'll be bored.

Tea is also available from the church next door (oldest part, the tower dates to 1400) for a modest fee and my domestic manager says it was a damn good cuppa.

The history is fascinating and there are excellent paintings, drawings, furniture and architecture and plenty of atmosphere, but it is in need of having the decorating refreshed, there are places where it simply looks very tired. The gardens are also a little tired although lovingly tended, but interesting nevertheless and the highlight was a plot, probably about thirty feet by thirty feet planted with different varieties of lavender in full bloom and I've never seen so many bees, butterflies and other insects, there must have been thousands of them.

All in all, if you have an afternoon to kill, check out the website because opening days are limited, I thoroughly recommend it.

Thanks to Ian for today's story:

An Aussie trucker walks into an outback cafe with a full-grown emu behind him. The waitress asks them for their orders. The trucker says, "A hamburger, chips and a coke," and turns to the emu, "What's yours?" "I'll have the same," says the emu.

A short time later the waitress returns with the order "That will be $9.40 please," and he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the exact change for payment.

The next day, the man and the emu come again and he says, "A hamburger, chips and a coke." The emu says, "I'll have the same." Again the trucker reaches into his pocket and pays with exact change.

This becomes routine until the two enter again. "The usual?" asks the waitress. "No, it's Friday night, so I'll have a steak, baked potato and a salad," says the man. "Same for me," says the emu. Shortly the waitress brings the order and says, "That will be $32.62." Once again the man pulls the exact change out of his pocket and places it on the table. The waitress cannot hold back her curiosity any longer. "Excuse me, mate, how do you manage to always come up with the exact change in your pocket every time?"

"Well, love" says the trucker, "A few years ago, I was cleaning out the back shed, and found an old lamp. When I rubbed it, a Genie appeared and offered me two wishes. My first wish was that if I ever had to pay for anything, I would just put my hand in my pocket and the right amount of money would always be there."

"That's brilliant!" says the waitress. "Most people would ask for a million dollars or something, but you'll always be as rich as you want for as long as you live!"

"That's right. Whether it's a pint of milk or a Rolls Royce, the exact money is always there," says the man. The waitress asks, "What's with the bloody emu?"

The trucker sighs, pauses, and answers, "My second wish was for a tall bird with a big arse and long legs, who agrees with everything I say."

Chat soon

Ta-ra.

On Dragonfly's wing...

Didn't plan too much today because the weather forecast which I saw on Friday said we would have rain, rain and more rain. It finally arrived here in short bursts about 4 pm and is now steady, but I could have done all sorts because the day was grey but fine, ah well.

Brother in law, who lives next door, called me round this afternoon to go and check out this great sight on his fish pond so I took my camera just in case and wow, I wasn't disappointed. There, on one of the water soldier plants in the middle of the pond was this gorgeous dragonfly and it looked as if it was laying eggs on the plant (I must do some research and find out if that was what it was doing.) If you click on the picture, it will enlarge.

I managed to fire one shot off with my telephoto lens (70 - 300) from about six feet before it skedaddled, but it had been there a while, so I hope all its eggs were laid. The fish will eat some I suspect, they're a hungry lot, but I hope some survive.

Have you heard the one about two parrots sat on a perch? One said the the other, "Can you smell fish?"

(Think about it)

Chat soon,

Ta-ra!

100 not out!

Welcome to my one hundredth blog!
I have never written poetry and speak it very badly, rarely getting the rhythm right but I do like reading some of it as long as its not too heavy. In celebration I've written one, about cricket of all things, but it's summer, it's England and village greens are surrendering themselves to the weekend sound of leather on willow, (with old men pulling muscles and young men losing fingernails as they bravely go for balls that are hit far too hard.)

In Tribute to Village Cricket

Not for us the murmuring Lords
This village vanguard team;
‘Tis just enough to cross our swords
Wi’ lads from beyond the stream.

Our flat green wicket, amid the square:
The scene of battle many,
Where heroes only here may dare
And cowards ne’er tarry.

No Flintoft here to smirk and sledge
To frighten man and boy,
Just grocer Tom with simple pledge
His Yorkers to deploy.

Umpire Fred puts on the bails
And roaming dogs do cower,
Mongrels slink with lowered tails
To avoid his look so sour.

Locals gather around the flags
With nervous anticipation;
Deck chairs, beer and trembling fags
At village son’s participation.

The first ball’s down, short and wide,
The batsman plays and nicks;
‘Owzat’ in unison, aloud is cried -
The index finger flicks.

The wickets fall, the runs are meagre,
Home lads are steaming through;
To see Tail-enders off, and eager
For a welcomed interval brew.

The Umpire is surely having a laugh!
(Our innings starts with a falter;)
“You’re out, it calls to you, the bath,”
Sacrificed on seamers alter.

The bouncers whizz, the out-swing teases
Our lads, it seems no answer;
With fours so rare and singles squeezes-
To the score it’s no enhancer.

Last over comes, eleven’s facing
Nightmares all coming true;
Onslaught - sinews tired of bracing,
Body black and blue.

Just four required, no skill has he
As rocket like, ball comes down;
Thick outside edge past slip men three
Cherry skips with bowler’s frown.

Will ball meet boundary as runs come slow?
Field-er dives headlong;
The ball sneaks past the boundary flag,
Air punched and victory song!

No hard feelings, hands are shaken,
Backs are heartily slapped;
Beer is served in yonder pavilion,
A good day’s work is capped.

The dogs return, the walkers roam,
Of victory, memory fades;
On this green veldt, on English loam
That once saw willow blades.

Copyright and intellectual property of
'Rarelesserspotted'
July 2009

Chat soon

Ta-ra!

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Next blog is a century! Wow, might have to think of something special, but I never do as you have read, just something that tickles my fancy on the day.

Time to be a film critic again, this time with one of my favourite subjects either in book form or on celluloid, Harry Potter that I saw today with my youngest son. Like my crossroads, this film reaches a crossroads in the story of the young magician haunted by his past. This film has fewer magic spells but greater special effects which frankly are stunning in their simplicity. They don't over-awe what is a very important transition between children under threat from the Dark Lord to where battle begins in earnest with the most serious of consequences and the movement between childhood and the complexity of adulthood. I'm not going to include any plot spoilers here and if you have read the book, you know what happens.

Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson and Rupert Grinch as the three pupil friends at Hogwarts College of Witchcraft and Wizardry, (Harry Potter, Hermione Grainger and Ron Weasley respectively) are growing fast and learning that relationships are anything but straightforward, but the director attacks this with humour and affection without at any time being a cringe worthy experience.

What is a delight however is more screen time for some most interesting characters of the series, Severus Snape subtly underplayed by the brilliant Alan Rickman, Draco Malfoy, Harry's main school rival well played by Tom Felton and Bellatrix Lestrange played seductively and fatalistically by Helena Bonham Carter - the epitome of evil itself.

Rickman has the knack, indeed skill of playing everything through his face and voice (like Michael Caine). His ability to keep still, not ham it out with facial ticks, odd voices or eccentric behaviour makes him both fascinating and the most dangerous of all men; can he be trusted? Will Harry Potter rue the one time that he trusts the sly, secretive and perhaps double dealing Professor Severus Snape?

The introduction of a new character, Professor Slughorn played by Jim Broadbent is the undoubted jewel in the crown of this excellent production. Old favourites, Michael Gambon, Maggie Smith and Robbie Coltrane still lend their gravitas to the Potter franchise.

The film is still a gentle stroll with easy sets (at great locations), great atmospheric lighting, and swear free dialogue that is easy to follow. Emotion is abundant and pitched at the right level - never over exaggerated. But a word about the special effects. They've always been impressive and an improvement on early Potter films, this indeed is what makes the magic. Flames in abundance, rebuilding of a trashed room, appearances and disappearances, yet all within context and never, not once overdone or intrusive.

There is no doubt that the film is now reaching a darker stage and that's as much about the gathering storm that is around the corner, whispers of dark-doings ahead than it is about the this film setting of the scene. The 12A rating is entirely appropriate and this is not one for little kids any more. Indeed there is one part of the film that can make you jump if you are not concentrating, indeed the woman next to me nearly lost all sense of dignity when she got the shock.

Whilst it's no secret who the 'Chosen One' is, Potter himself, the identity of the Half Blood Prince may come as a big surprise. If you want to know who it is - go and see the film.

This is a longish film, it needed to be, I think I measured it at about two and a half hours, but it's British cinema at its spectacular best, made by talented people behind the camera as well as in front of it. This is a must-see film.

The weekend is upon us and it's list time. This time, like Harry Potter, let's ponder the mysteries of life and ask some interesting questions to which there are few answers.

• If you choke a Smurf, what colour does it turn?
• What happens if you get half scared to death twice?
• Why did Kamikaze pilots wear helmets?
• What's a free gift? Aren't all gifts free?
• What the hell do you do if you see an endangered animal eating an endangered plant?
• What do you plant to grow a seedless watermelon?
• If a tin whistle is made of tin, what's a foghorn made of? (thanks to Lonnie Donegan)
• Why is it so hard to remember how to spell 'Mnemonic?'
• Why is a Wise Man and a Wise Guy exactly the opposite?
• and finally... Why did God give men nipples?

Have a great weekend!

Chat soon

Ta-ra.

Someone's just walked over my grave...

A few days off now to relax at home with all the jobs my other half has lined up for me but I'll be sneaking out to do some visiting in the local area, camera in hand. Blow me, I've not timed my holiday to coincide with the third test match, I'll only see the first four days at most. Horror upon horror, Kevin Pieterson is ruled out of the rest of the series - all well it's not just about one man but with Freddie Flintoft crocked with a bad knee, England might be a bit under par (sounds as if I'm making excuses - I am!) For the uninitiated - it's cricket!

There was a fantastic poem voice over on an advert for cricket for BBC Test Match Special aired on the TV just before the last test with a cricket theme; if anyone knows what it was can they let me know - I've searched the BBC site for it and can't find it anywhere. I might have to write to Radio Times.

Moving away from the Great Game (NOT football), I had an interesting experience last night at my psychic circle which I'll share with you and perhaps if you have a view and want to mention it - you are very welcome, just be constructive.

We had a hypnotherapist visit the group and as a group we underwent something called past life regression. This is where we enter into a very deep meditation and, supposedly, connect with any one of our many previous lives that we've had here on this wonderful planet. It's an interesting experience, I've done it before under controlled circumstances and found it fascinating and also revealing about a character trait I still have today that manifested itself in most of my previous lives. It's also emotional, as we lived (if you believe it) in the past when life was harder and more difficult and in many ways, cheaper and less precious as it is considered today.

One of our group, a lady also had a one to one regression after our group session had finished while we all watched and she was led into deep meditation and after a few minutes became an old man living in mid Victorian Manchester England with his wife. There were names, places, dates, social details and these can be checked against the Internet to see if such a person existed. The sitter also experienced some discomfort in her hands that the old man was supposed to be suffering from.

As a kid I remember a film, in black and white I think of the Search for Bridey Murphy taken from a real life incident where an American woman Virginia Tighe had regression therapy, then she unexpectedly went back to a former life (of Bridey Murphy) during her hypnosis and described her life in intimate detail, far beyond her ability to have that knowledge. That event was controversial and the original Murphy who Tighe purported to be in a former life who had lived in Ireland in the nineteenth century could not be traced.

It seems, although I have no evidence to substantiate it whatsoever, that we may have lived a number of lives before, in different social classes, different genders, lived to different ages with totally different characters perhaps from another land or continent.

People often have the therapy of past life regression to find answers about character traits they have today, why they act how they act and often many of those we are with today as partners, brothers, sisters, relatives or friends have been with us before, albeit in different bodies, in a spiritual sense.

Claptrap or fact? There's no real hard, tangible evidence, period.

Have you ever been regressed? How did you find the experience? Did you learn anything about yourself?

It might simply all be a question of faith. Faith in what, I'm not sure and what's the purpose, what does it achieve? If you have a view, let me know and tell others what you think.

Here's today's story offering:

A man died and went to heaven and St Peter asked who he was. "My Name is Steven Richards," said the man.
"And what did you do for a living?"
"I was unemployed."
"Unemployed eh?" Pondered St Peter. "Have you ever done anything especially good in your life?"
"As a matter of fact I was walking down the street and saw a gang of ugly, hairy bikers threatening this poor innocent young woman at the side of the road. I went up to the head biker and punched him on the nose, then kicked him where it hurts and then told them all to clear off and leave this poor woman alone."
"I have no record of this highly commendable and brave deed, "said St Peter. "When did this occur?"
"About five minutes ago."

Chat soon

Ta-ra.

Times they are a' changing...

Regular followers may recall I decided to shave my beard off a couple of weeks ago whilst I was on a weeks break. I left my moustache on, I daren't go the whole hog (coward) and the reaction has been almost universally positive - just one dissenter. Bearing mind my beard has been on around eighteen years and my moustache for about thirty years.

The funniest thing though was yesterday that independently, two people said that they thought that growing a moustache suited me. Hmm. When I pointed out that I had had a moustache for around 30 years, they both looked at me in a puzzled way. I have worked with them both for a few years and it took them absolutely ages to figure it out!

Shows how observant we really are. That's why magicians get away with all sorts because we don't look at or take in what we see. Distraction, diversion, slight of hand and we are easily taken in.

I said in an earlier blog that I was going though a period of change and that's manifested itself in a number of ways, weight loss, beard loss, improved fitness, spirituality etc etc., and at work we are going through a period of change too. Consultants have come into our organisation which in itself should be some concern, after all, consultants take the wrist watch off your wrist and try to sell it back to you - tell you something you already know and charge you a fortune for it.

Just for a change these consultants are trying to sell us their philosophy which will change our organisation at the strategic level and it all looks very exciting and will make for real long term changes and improvement in the way we plan ahead and look after our cash in these difficult times. It's also good to be involved albeit in a lot of extra hard work, but no doubt the benefits are well worth it.

Today's story is completely off topic, it just made me giggle so here it is.

The headmistress of a girls school approached a male friend who was a celebrated author to give a talk to the pupils about sex. He didn't have any experience in lecturing on the subject and after a lot of persuasion, he agreed to do it but he was far too embarrassed to tell his wife. So he told his wife he was giving a lecture on sailing and wrote an appropriate entry in his diary.
A few days after the lecture, the headmistress bumped into the lecturer's wife in the supermarket and said, "You husband was marvellous at the school, so very illuminating, all the pupils thoroughly enjoyed it and I know learned a lot from him."
"Strange," said the wife, "He's only done it twice, the first time he was sick and the second time he lost his hat."

Chat soon

Ta-ra.

When you go down to the woods today...

You're sure of a big surprise... probably full of kids on stolen motorcycles. Sorry, just the cynic in me coming out. I was delighted to read a lovely article on the BBC News Online magazine this morning while relaxing from my treadmill, about Teddy bears and as I am want to do now and then, I thought this would be a good memory tester.

Man: "I have a terrible memory."
Woman: "Have you?
Man: "Have I what?"

My own Teddy was a Rupert the Bear lookalike that I can remember and frankly it didn't last too long past my early years through constant chewing and generally falling to bits. I can't even remember its name. Awww. I did have an old biscuit box of Lego and some plastic letters and numbers that you put on a board. I remember swallowing a red plastic number '2' and asking my mother, bizarrely, whether or not I would get a hole in the heart! I must have been three or four. I also had a flat plastic hat, like a sailor's hat with a white top. If I recall right, it was part of a bus conductors set. My grandmother had an old paraffin heater, one of those tall thin ones with a flat top and one day I put my hat on top of the heater (unguarded of course) and the thing melted away into a black gooey mess - my heart broke.

I collected bus tickets then, the bus being our only form of transport if you didn't take the train. Used tickets of course that people discarded on the floor, different colours that the conductor used to clip in his or her machine to show that you had paid the right fare. You can find them in museums still. Our bus company was the East Yorkshire Motor Services (EYMS) which still runs today. The buses then were a mix of Royal blue and cream and the buses had a rounded roof and open platform on the back. Today, the buses are a nunty rust coloured red.

I did use to build little stage sets out of cardboard boxes, paint the walls like it had wallpapers, build bits of furniture out of card and perform plays with toy figures, usually soldiers - to no one in particular with made up stories. We really stepped up a lot when I was bought my first Action Man which I could dress up in various kits with all the accoutrements. Every time you bought some kit or a figure, you could collect stars on the packs and after you collected so many, you could send off for a figure for free. I ended up with an army of four!

Fun times when I could disappear into the depths of the large Victorian house we lived in and started with more complex projects with toys like building Airfix aeroplanes: Spitfires, Hurricanes, Lancaster bombers and then hung them from my bedroom ceiling with thin almost imperceptible fishing line held by drawing pins and I imagined them flying into battle.

Being the weekend, I thought it would be good to have another list (or two).

Five things a woman should not say to a man during sex

"Do you know the ceiling needs painting?"
"It's just a rash."
"Maybe if we water it, it will grow."
"It's a good thing you're rich."
"On second thoughts, let's turn the lights out."

Five things a man shouldn't say to a woman during sex

"What's for tea tomorrow?"
"Oh by the way, the cat got run over this afternoon."
"Did I ever tell you that Aunt Agatha died in this bed?"
"I've just thought of the answer to 3 down, I'll be back in a tick."
"Is that it? Can I go now?"

Chat soon

Ta ra.

Do you smoke after sex? (I'll leave the punch line to you)

I got weighed today and I've lost 6.6 lbs or 3 Kg in the last four weeks. Although it's the smallest monthly loss so far, at least its still coming off and since my last weighing we've had a couple of meals out - so far, 64 lbs lost. Not doing too badly. Plenty of further flab to lose.

My ancestral families, with one or two minor and notable exceptions have always been big people. My grandmother used to say to me when I was a kid that if I ever grew big, I could explain that I "had big bones." Hmm, that never really worked. Some of my great aunts were as thin as rakes, painfully thin when I look at some of the old black and white photographs of them and some of that is down to smoking I'm sure and in other cases, perhaps a tough lifestyle with not a great deal of cash.

I haven't smoked since I was about 22, just a couple of months before we married. One day I was out of breath and I screwed my packet of fags up and threw them in the open fire. My wife to be nearly had a fit. I've never had a fag since and never fancied one either. She gave up not long afterward. Of course we used to go into the sweet shop on the corner and buy a packet of fags, then a box of matches because we always forgot them, then a packet of Polo mints to take away the cigarette smell on the breath and a quarter of sweets and so on and so on, so it was a very expensive habit when we looked back. We actually lost weight when we gave up!

I started when I was a very young teenager or perhaps when I was around twelve; my parents both smoked. To this day, I remember my first fag which I had in the upstairs loo. I was physically sick and my head spun around something dreadful - yet I persisted - why is that?

We smoked all sorts. The old man at the corner shop in Finkle Street in Cottingham, Mr Brocklesby or 'Brock' used to split a packet of five blue (filtered) Park Drive and sell us kids single fags for a penny. I used to hide mine in an old fountain pen which had no cartridge in case I was searched at school. I moved on to small filtered Cadets (I don't think you can buy them these days,) then Dunhills, very posh although I didn't like the taste and ended up with Lambert and Butlers, Embassy 'Number 6' and finally Benson and Hedges. Of course, being macho, I liked to be seen smoking Camels and I'm sure I was actually smoking camels - dead ones at any rate - they were foul. Occasionally I smoked Park Drive plain (no filters) - the damage I must have done - I regret it even now.

I tried the old roll ups, but never got the hang of it, I remember once putting a single strand of tobacco in the paper to save tobacco and when I lit it, it took a single second to burst into flames and burn my lip which the paper stuck to because my lips were too dry.

I even tried pipes, cigars (I used to like a Castella - quite long and thick, unlike me) those long black Cafe slim things with liquorice flavoured paper (very chic) but I eventually gave it all up. My first packet was about 20 new pence which of course is one new pence per cig. When I stand behind people at the counter when I'm buying my lottery tickets today and see them paying a fiver a packet, I'm glad I've stopped. If you buy twenty a day, that's thirty five quid a week, £140 a month, £1,680 per year and more importantly 25 pence per cig!

Do you remember some of these quotes from TV adverts?

"Ahhhh, a Condor moment" (pipe tobacco)
"Cool as a mountain stream, the coolest taste in smoking." Consulate menthol cigarettes - they were AWFUL!
"Happiness is a cigar called Hamlet; the mild cigar from Benson & Hedges." To the music of Bach's Air on a G string.
"I like a man who smokes St. Bruno." Pipe tobacco, usually provocatively quoted by an attractive brunette.
"Pure gold, from Benson & Hedges." Their packet was gold coloured.

Interestingly, while cigarette advertising was banned in the UK in 1965, you could still see cigar adverts right through to 1991.

Memories eh? As the weekend arrives, I can look forward to more reading because the weather forecast is poor for tonight and Saturday meaning no grass cutting or lounging in the garden. I've shifted habits this last couple of years by trying to cut the grass midweek so I can actually enjoy the garden on a weekend without working in it. Sensible you might think, not me, only just thought of it! Trouble is I'm often too tired to do it once I'm home after a busy day. Although I won't be able to get in it - I can look at it through the window as I'm plodding though my book which I must finish this weekend.

Here's today's story. Two elderly ladies were sat in a bus shelter one day and both were smoking while waiting for their bus. When it started to rain, one of the ladies reached into her handbag, pulled out a condom, cut the end off it, placed it over her cigarette so it wouldn't get wet and carried on smoking.
Her friend thought that that was an excellent idea. She went into the chemists the very next day and asked for a packet of condoms.
"What size?" asked the pharmacist.
"To fit a Camel," the old lady replied.

Have a great weekend!

Chat soon

Ta-ra.

Standing calmly at the crossroads...

It's Thursday already... where does time go?

We went to Nottingham on Wednesday for my son's graduation day at the University of Nottingham. This was a slick operation (they've done it for years - it should be) with loads of signs, space, attendants, refreshments, facilities, photographs, video, streaming Internet of the ceremony etc etc, they really looked after us and made it a very special day for the graduates. I think the Abba song goes something like, "Standing calmly at the crossroads, no desire to run..."

This is a crossroads both him and I have reached. His is fundamental: the end of his formal education, for the time being anyway and the need to move into the bigger world in difficult economic times and mine, another crossroads. Mine is slightly different but still, never-the-less, important for me.

He will be looking for employment commensurate with his degree, archaeology, history and research type jobs. This isn't easy because when we got home the local BBC Look North news programme were interviewing students from University of Hull who had just graduated and they were fairly pessimistic about their job prospects which sort of put a dampener on the day really.

My crossroads is more about lifestyle, loss of a lot of weight, feeling fitter, increase in my psychic work, improving habits, getting my life back in physical order; where do I go from here? Nowhere different, except the same journey, same highways and byways with hazards along the way in a determined effort to make the trip through life with my other half and our family, to arrive at our destination safely, satisfied and happy... "No desire to run/there's no hurry anymore when all is said and done."

As I type this drivel on this Thursday evening, the air is muggy, the sky blackens and the rain is coming down in dribs and drabs, the calm before the storm foretold by the Met Office - more heavy rain with threats of localised flooding. Those of you hit by the floods of June 2007 will understand it when I say that there are thousands of people round me who will be looking nervously at the sky and praying to their God to keep them safe from flooding - again!

'Sapientia Urbs Conditur' on the coat of arms of the University of Nottingham: 'A City is Built on Wisdom.'

It's been a long day and getting weighed tomorrow... then it's the weekend - 'Yaaaaaaaaaaaaay'

Chat soon

Ta-ra!

What a weekend, glad to be back at work...

What a weekend of high emotions and exhaustion. Saturday night went well, fantastic in fact and all that anxiety and worry was unfounded. We had a family reunion for one branch of the family called 'Mayes', my father's mother's family and we had them from all over the Hull and Haltemprice area to a small club. I did some family pictures and blew them up to A4 size with the help of one or two others who supplies some old photos dug out of tins and dusty lofts no doubt (some of the pictures were as old as the hills) and put them up on a wall at the club to greet everyone. These provided an excellent talking point and broke a lot of ice.

I also put up the main pictures of the third generation away from whence we all came who have now, except all but one wife, passed. Underneath each picture I put a basic family tree from what little knowledge I had and some of the gaps were filled in by the relevant families. It's amazing how much women know about the family and relationships - the men knew bugger all. The cake was fabulous (thanks Doreen) and buffet perfectly acceptable. I met people I remembered from childhood, from more years ago than I care to think about and met many I had never met or simply didn't remember. A lot of gaps were filled and if there is a lesson to all this - don't let time be a thief, don't run out of time to contact relatives; you don't have to live in their pockets or talk to them every month, but a phone call, e-mail or letter now and then wouldn't go amiss.

The second of the major events this weekend was a football tournament today (Sunday) run by the junior league from which I have retired today after ten years faithful service as an active committee member. 5000 kids plus belong to this league playing every Sunday during the season and it has been a privilege to serve them. I am moving on to other things and I will miss the league and in particular, some very good friends on the committee who I am very fond of and who have grafted to provide soccer for all those kids along with all the benefits that provides to the larger community.

I was there at seven a.m. and left at 5.30 pm and thank God for good weather and an excellent atmosphere and a successful footballing day. I have an unintended tan, a sore back and aching feet. I will however regain my family life on a weekend which has been sadly neglected.

The third and unexpected emotional episode was sitting down, tired but happy after I arrived home tonight to watch on DVD, Gran Torino with the extraordinary Clint Eastwood in an incredibly watchable film, not his best but near as dammit, as the ex Korean war army veteran living in a neighbourhood devoid of 'native' Americans. This is thoroughly recommended as one of the great films, funny, tense, emotional roller coaster of relationship building and in some cases, destroying. There is some bad language and racism is a strong theme, but brilliantly acted and directed by the master himself, this is a must see.

I cried.

Well that's it for tonight folks, too tired to do anything else but get my shoes clean for work tomorrow and bid you have a great, successful and safe week ahead.

My good friend Middle Aged Gapper has done an excellent blog from Italy from where he has spent the first couple of weeks of his new life, check it out - very entertaining.

Chat soon

Ta-ra!

Trim all round sir?

Domesticity rules today, no walk round Hull as planned and therefore no money spent (other than on tonight's Euro Millions and at a local shop too).

Instead, I cut the hedge (with the assistance of she who must be obeyed), trimmed a tree, cut the grass, had a nice welcoming hot bath and this evening bought my son a computer as a reward for getting his degree.

The hedge was trimmed nice and neatly, not perfect because its full of holes, not level due to it growing at different rates because of the trees, but it turned out very acceptable and will be okay for the next two months or so. As a bonus, although it's not a very good picture (top), there was a bullfinch on the seed dispenser in the back garden which I managed to get before it flew off. I had to do something very old fashioned which was to manually focus on the bird because all the foliage was confusing the auto focus. What you can't see behind the foliage was it's female partner, who has a grey belly. They come once a day, as if passing through from who knows where to somewhere much more exciting.

Have a great weekend.

Chat soon

Ta-ra.

The Ties are Multiplying

Having lost some substantial weight, we spent a pleasant day spending money buying my clothes - how much - don't ask. The McArthurGlen outlet at York was the scene of the crime, they are now a lot better off than I am, so much for planning and doing an innocent and FREE walk round York city walls.

The problem is that we had to go through my wardrobe and get rid of everything that looks like a tent when we got home tonight. This has taken two of us, two hours solid. During the trying on of all my shirts, I lost some old favourites through age, wear as well as being just too big. About half of my ties have gone - goodbye dear friends! Some of those ties were classics: Paisley, some an inch wide, some 80s gaudy bright checked colours, some with soup stains, gravy stains and unmentionable stains - they have gone to the great tie museum in the sky (or perhaps Oxfam and the Epilepsy shops). I have still managed to sneak a couple of ancient ties into the rack without her who must be obeyed spotting them (she doesn't read this, so don't say anything - please!)

We have taken the opportunity to get rid of so much tonight, mostly stuff that was too big, stuff I've had for donkey's years, stuff I've ruined with paint or grass stains or simply just worn out - like me after today.

When I thought my other half had found all the ties, another one popped up, hidden under a shirt or a suit or other coat hanger which forced her to admit that they must be multiplying.

I've landed about seven pairs of new trousers, mostly for work, four pairs of new shoes and by the way, I am not an Imelda Marcos (full name Imelda Remedios Visitacion Romualdez-Marcos), I only have about five pairs of shoes for all occasions and weathers. I've even picked up a new leisure suit (as opposed to a suit for work), the first I've ever had in my life and its pale beige... wow! This is to be worn at the family get together on Saturday night. I know how to push the boat out.

My wife did buy a pair of shoes for herself, so she wasn't totally left out.

The curse of the socks has been placed upon us yet again. Whilst clearing out tonight, I found six pairs of new, never worn white sports socks in the bottom of one of my drawers and when I pulled them out, there was one missing! It hasn't even been washed, so the sock fairy has struck again. There must be a bloody lot of one legged fairies, goblins, leprechauns and elves around. Perhaps they've had their other legs bitten off by foxes.

My story today has a topical theme. A man was shopping one day and he approached a very pretty young woman. "I've lost my wife, can I talk to you?"
"Why?" She replied, puzzled.
"Because every time I talk to a young woman, my wife appears out of nowhere."

Chat soon

Ta-ra.

Holiday - what holiday?

This is the calm before the storm. Today is a day off from the holiday (lounging and pottering). Today is a preparation day. In order of occurrence: a trip to York for a walk around the city wall (research today) on Thursday, a walk around Hull on Friday, family reunion for my father's mother's family on Saturday (getting some display photos ready today), most of whom I have never seen or met before and Sunday an all day local Boys League football tournament; and this is a holiday!

Breaking news: Scientists have discovered something that will do the work of five men - a woman.

Ah well I can be stressed at leisure in my own time. Most of it I am looking forward to and in between times, I will be listening or watching, if I can get near to the TV, to the first Ashes test between England and Australia played for the first time at Cardiff and England are doing okay, not brilliantly, but okay.

I'm just about to do some light reading this afternoon, David Well's book on improving psychic ability and I will be listening to his CD with a guided meditation later this afternoon. It helps me relax if nothing else during the day, I will probably have to wait until evening time to link into my psychic mind with the meditation.

I thought I would put a photograph of the Mayes family - above - (my father's mother's family). Two generations ago have all passed now, all eight of them, five girls and three boys and their spouses all barring one wife. The picture is my grandmother taken by a professional photographer around 1930.

Q Why are families like a box of chocolates?

A Mostly sweet with a few nuts.

Chat soon

Ta-ra.

Black as the Hobs of Hell... and a Quiz

Dodging the showers, thunder and lightening today from skies that have been as 'black as the hobs of hell' I trotted off to the dentists thinking I had lost a filling last week only for him to tell my that all my amalgam is in perfect condition with just one minor crack in the enamel of one tooth which doesn't need anything doing to it. I must have chewed some mud or dirt from the lettuce I was eating to think I had lost a filling. Ah well, saved me a few bob. Not that I'm stingy or anything, but they do say Yorkshiremen are like Scotsmen but with the generosity taken away - with the money anyway.

'Black as the hobs of hell,' is an interesting phrase and as I am interested in where words and phrases come from, I thought I'd look this one up and there are surprisingly few answers, two in fact that have any credibility.

The first is supposed to be derived from Hobgoblins who inhabit holes in Yorkshire and they are in fact black in colour. Apparently there are several 'Hobs Hole' in Yorkshire.

The second, and probably more likely is a a swinging metal plate in a fireplace that swung over the fire when you wanted to cook something on it or place a kettle on it. Clearly this would get sooty and dirty and housewives would spend hours black-leading them and cleaning them. The 'hob' which we have today, a thing to cook on is still used. As punishment for bad housewives, they would be required to polish the black hobs of hell.

Today's Quiz Questions

Here are some testing questions for you and the answers are below - no cheating now - see if you can answer them correctly. Don't take your time, answer them instantly, no pondering:

Question 1
You are participating in a race and you overtake the second person, what position are you in?

Question 2
If you overtake the last person in the race, you are...

Question 3
Bit of simple arithmetic, don't use a pencil and paper, just do it in your head, it's easy:

Take 1000 and add 40 to it. Now add another 1000. Now add 30 to it. Add another 1000. Now add 20 to it. Now add another 1000. Now add 10. How much have you got?

Question 4
Mary's father has five daughters: 1. Nana, 2. Nene, 3. Nini, 4. Nono.
What is the name of the fifth daughter?

Bonus Question
A woman who cannot speak goes into a shop and wants to buy a toothbrush. By imitating the action of brushing her teeth she successfully expresses herself to the shopkeeper and the purchase is done. Next, a blind man comes into the shop who wants to buy a pair of sunglasses; how does HE indicate what he wants?

Well done, that was easy wasn't it? Hmmm.

Well here we go with the answers:

Question 1
If you answered that you are first, then you are sadly wrong! If you overtake the second person and you take his place, you are second!

Question 2
If you answered that you are second to last, then you are wrong again.. Tell me, how can you overtake the LAST Person?

Question 3
Did you get 5000?

The correct answer is actually 4100. If you don't believe it, check it with a calculator! Today is definitely not your day, is it? Maybe you'll get the last question right... Maybe.

Question 4
Did you Answer Nunu? NO! Of course it isn't. Her name is Mary.

Bonus Question
He just has to open his mouth and ask...

Finally... Today's quotation is a question with an answer.

If your dog is barking furiously at the back door and your wife is yelling at the front door, who do you let in first? The dog. At least he'll shut up after you let it in.

Chat soon

Ta-ra.

Change is as good as a rest...

I hope you are all having a good weekend so far and that the rain hasn't spoilt your endeavours. Well I've done two unique things today, firstly I shaved my beard off and secondly I've walked to the local farmer's market.

What's unique about the beard, well I've only had one beard in my life but I've probably had it fifteen years, it's part of me, formulated my character (or lack of it) and its removed the facade. With my weight loss, my face isn't 'chubby' any more and I thought it was time for a change. My wife was reluctant for me to get rid of it, but as I am now on a holiday for a week, if I don't like it I've got time to grow it back. It feels good not to have one I must confess.

The local farmers market is just a mile down the road in the car park of the Humber Bridge and it's held on the first Sunday of the month. It was packed and there was a lovely atmosphere. It's been there a year or so but I've never been, never had need to really but I thought that I would take advantage of my need to exercise more and I walked there despite the threat of rain from a leaden sky.

There were meats of every kind including ostrich, cheeses, bread and cakes of every shape, colour and taste. There were sweets, exotic teas, spices and huge home grown vegetables. You could but herbs, plants, garden accessories and even jewelry and it all looked reasonably priced. I suppose we should use them, the produce is fresh and it supports the local economy. But being there once a month doesn't meet the need of supply and still means we have to travel to the local supermarket to do the rest of the shopping for the month.

How to impress a woman: compliment her; cuddle her; kiss her; caress her; love her; tease her; comfort her; protect her; hug her; hold her; spend money on her; wine and dine her; listen to her; care for her; stand by her; support her; go the the ends of the earth for her.

How to impress a man: Turn up naked with beer.

Chat soon

Ta-ra.

Tale of the Unexpected (3)

My days hike in the warm balmy weather yesterday was coming to an end and I was looking forward to my stop over at Hangerley Hall described as an isolated Victorian edifice in the quiet Yorkshire countryside, a perfect watering hole after a pleasant 20 mile walk along open paths, beautiful rolling countryside and nothing but the sound of the breeze and the comforting trill of Skylarks overhead.

There was no reception as such at the Hall, this was a place of retreat and I was greeted by a young woman, dressed rather soberly for her age who was both polite and helpful. I was shown my comfortable room in a corridor at the top of a huge old fashioned staircase and I enjoyed a hot refreshing shower.

The evening meal was vegetarian and I enjoyed the simplicity and taste. The lounge was huge and expansive and guessed it had been the living room of the great house when it had been occupied by the original family, probably before the war. Clearly, it was so big, it could have doubled for a ball room. I was alone that night in the Hall as the only paying guest, it's not too popular during the weekends I was told. The log fire behind the spark guard radiated just enough heat to keep it comfortable, and even though it had been a warm day, the large house and the high ceilinged lounge was cool. I made myself comfortable in the armchair near the fire and admired the panelling on the walls.
I must have fallen asleep with my brandy in my hand because I woke with a start in the semi darkness and for a moment wondered where I was. I had spilt my drink on my trousers and I felt a fool and a little annoyed that I had wasted perfectly good Napoleon three star brandy.

I looked at my watch with some difficulty because of the dim light and noted it was two forty-five. A few embers were left in the grate struggling to keep going. I put another log on and turned to go back to my chair and jumped a foot in the air as I was face to face with an elderly lady who I had not heard approach. My heart was pounding in my ears and I apologised for the expletive I had let slip.

She waved this apology away with a smile and a flick of her gloved hand and she sat in the hard backed wooden chair on the other side of the fire. I was still getting over the shock when we began the most interesting conversation. The lady was highly intelligent, very articulate and spoke with captivating interest about her life and to my surprise she had once lived at the Hall as a young woman, through her marriage and into her dotage. She confirmed that indeed there had been grand balls in the room before the war when life was easier and servants patrolled the corridors and rooms taking care of the needs of the family and guests. I thought I actually heard music as she described women in flowing bright gowns gliding down the stairs with their men in evening dress. 'Gay times' as she called them before the outbreak of war and when the Hall was taken over by the army as so many were in those dark days, the Hall lost its pride, its character and its soul.
This was the only time she looked sad as she described the Hall being ripped apart; art, furniture and belongings turned out into an old leaky cottage down the drive and I thought I saw a tear trickle down her cheek. She dabbed her face with a lace handkerchief and she offered me it to wipe my trousers of the brandy stain and although I initially refused, she insisted and I took it from her and gently rubbed my trousers over the stain. As I looked up and was about to offer her her handkerchief back, she had gone. I looked around the large room and even walked up the stairs looking for her and of this delightful old lady, I could find no trace.

I was determined to meet her in the morning at breakfast and return the handkerchief, a small square of thin white cotton delicately embroidered with roses, lavender flowers, vines and the initials ARH.

I slept well albeit for only four hours having had the night charmingly stolen away from me.

After a semi vegetarian breakfast (no bacon) but soya sausages and eggs with home grown tomatoes, beans and mushrooms from the surrounding fields, I asked the young lady who had greeted me the night before about the old lady. She looked at me with sad eyes which I thought familiar, and after a moments hesitation and rather unconvincingly she reiterated what she had told me the night before that there was no one else staying in the Hall. I told her this must have been some kind of mistake, the doors to the Hall had been locked and I had had a two hour conversation with the old lady.

I remembered the handkerchief and produced it with a flourish to prove the old lady's existence and I explained I wanted to return it with my gratitude. The young woman took the handkerchief with trembling hands and examined it. "ARH - This belonged to Alice Roberta Hangerley. She gave you this?" I said that she had and I described her. "My grandmother," explained the young woman. I asked if I could give her grandmother the delicate lace handkerchief back.

"I wouldn't think so, she's been dead since 1939. This used to be kept in an old trunk I keep in the loft of my cottage down the road, but it went missing a few years ago and I thought I had lost it. I once treasured it with all my heart." Her eyes were filling up. "And now she's returned it. Thank you so much." She placed her hand gently over mine for an instant and then she turned and went back into the kitchen and closed the door behind her. I could hear her crying.

I left the hall not an hour later somewhat confused still not clear about what had happened last night. I passed a tree a few yards down the drive from the Hall which I have sinced learned has not sprouted a single leaf since Alice Roberta Hangerley died all those years ago.And yet even now writing this I feel a warm indescribable glow that, by sheer accident through events outside my control, this strange episode had brought some comfort to a troubled soul with the assistance of... well, who knows.

Chat soon

Ta-ra.

Story and photographs the intellectual property of Rarelesserspotted

E addio il mio amico

Middle Aged Gapper left work for the last time today, handed in his keys and mosied off into the sunset leaving behind him a trail of good feelings, well being and affection. Thanks for a great lunch. Enjoy Italy. Blog often. Good for him of course but sad for his colleagues who have lost a valued person.

They've just bought out new fun flavoured condoms for the over 60s. The latest flavour - Werther's Original.
Malcolm LordI was very lucky to have attended a sportsman's dinner last night in celebration of the 50th anniversary of the Hull Boys Sunday Football League and to have listened to an after dinner speech by the 1966 England World Cup Final winner, the Manchester United legend, Norbert 'Nobby' Peter Stiles MBE - a great night full of laughs and entertainment from a great wrinkly.

I have been very lucky today to visit my good friend Barry at his place of work this afternoon and as he took me on a tour, I realised how lucky he was having a job in the open air with beautiful vistas of the countryside and the Humber basin accompanied by the wildlife and what we spotted today in just one hour while he worked was exceptional - flitting and darting among the stubble of newly mown grasses and wild flowers and trees and bushes: birds of every size, butterflies, bees, insects and although we didn't spot any today, deer sometimes stalk him on his days toil. All the time, Skylarks, unseen singing to their hearts content above us. Of course there is a down side in that during bad weather, he can't hide away, his site still needs to be managed, nurtured and made to work and he has to walk when his 4 x 4 can't cope with the wet and steep slopes. He gets wet, tired and dirty when the weather is unkind.

So we take the good with the bad; the happy with the sad; positives and negatives; two sides to every coin.

It's like us human beings, light and dark moods, helpful or destructive (whether we mean it or not). Is that Yin and Yang? The way it's been explained to me is that there are opposites. If you drop a pebble in the water, it cause ripples and there are both peaks and troughs of water making up the ripple when you think about it. But the opposites are also rooted together, with only men or only women for example, life would only exist in one generation and that would be it.

There are also transformations. A seed grows into a plant, grows, flowers, withers and dies and decays and provides nutrients for the next seed. Yin and Yang also provide balance - without one there is not the other. You can't have light without dark. There we are. If you have good there will be times things may not be so good, but if you know things can be okay at other times, then look forward to the positives - sideline the negatives out of your head. Savour the good.

Dave Allen, the exceptional and sadly missed Irish born comedian once commented, "We spend our lives on the run. We get up by the clock, eat and sleep by the clock, get up again and go to work and watch the clock all day. Then when we retire, what do they do? Give us a bloody clock."

Have a great weekend.

Chat soon

Ta-ra

Touch wood...

Did you say 'white rabbit' three times this morning before you uttered your first words on this first day of the month? I was in bed late on Tuesday night so at five minutes past midnight I cheated and said it then just before I nodded off.

I got into a (friendly) argument with a friend Linda who I take to the psychic circle on Tuesday. We had entered Shirley Ann's house where the circle is held by the back door. We enjoyed a productive and successful night with some quality messages for each other from the 'other side' and it was time to leave. My friend wanted to leave by the FRONT door, much to my dismay but she argued that as we had sat down after entering the house, it didn't matter, it wouldn't be bad luck to leave through a different door from one that we had originally entered.

I bowed to her confidence that we had negated the superstition by sitting and I left, not without a little trepidation (and after touching wood) and to make it worse the fog had come in from the North Sea with a vengeance on the drive home. All was well however and I am now happy that the three 'white rabbits' have rescued me.

My work colleague and friend Middle Aged Gapper is on his last working day on Friday before he retires and starts his new life of adventure and discovery. I am hopeful that when he can find time, he will update his blog with his adventures and his rather small companion Wainwright who you should really meet because this little guy will become famous, mark my words.

There aren't many rabbit stories (other than them being prolific breeders) so I thought I would relate a story about a rabbit in tribute to my lucky three 'white rabbits.'

A man found his dog in his back garden with a dead rabbit in his mouth. The dreadful realisation came to him that this was the neighbours daughter's pet rabbit. In a panic, he washed the rabbit and in the dead of night he slipped it back into the cage in his neighbour's garden hoping perhaps that his neighbour would think it had died of natural causes. The next day, the man spotted his neighbour digging in the garden. He looked over the fence and said, "Hello Bill, what you up to?"

"I'm burying my rabbit," replied the neighbour. "There are some sick people about. It died on Monday, I buried it on Tuesday and yesterday, some bastard dug it up, washed it and stuck it back in its cage."

Whoops!

Chat soon

Ta-ra.