So we are so looking forward to heading out to NYC to see our lovely daughter & son-in-law and beautiful young grandsons. We’ve both been busy as hell these last few weeks in preparation but these last few days have been quite a challenge on the patience front. And it’s also been quite a while since I’ve regaled you with one of those it-can-only-happen-to-me stories about my creaking body. Hey ho here we go again… Continue reading
It’s been a few weeks since I last posted – we’ve had a recent brilliantly relaxing holiday in the Vendee region of France with all my beautiful daughters, fine sons-in-law and, of course our fab grandsons (minus footballer S who was in the middle of his pre-season training programme, sadly). Apart from that I’ve been really, really busy on writing stuff. Tonight I’ve got a bit of a break on a big piece of web-building stuff whilst I await a go-ahead or otherwise. So time to do some blogging again. And the theme is underpants. Yes ladies I’m going to share some manly insight with you about how a real brutal hunk of a man chooses his briefs. Steady girls.
Just look at this view, stunning eh. When I was back working for BT I used to drive to and from work in London and I’d spend nearly 5 hours a day on the road. When it came to time off I’d yearn to go places to get away from it all but mostly away from the car and roads and traffic. Places just like the scene above in fact – wandering round the lakes, on the moors, in the dales etc. Ah the peace and tranquility eh.
Well it’s been an interesting week on the political front. That damned decision to have a referendum on the EU has cost us yet another Prime Minister and now we face the very realistic prospect that our next head of Government could be one of Boris Johnson, Michael Gove or Jeremy Hunt. It’s not much of a choice is it, choosing between a conceited buffoon with a laughable hairstyle, a double-dealing snake with the brain of a dipstick or an under-delivering smug little shit? What a bloody fiasco. The only saving grace is that if we lived in America our leader would possess all of these traits – and more. Yes this posting’s really about the Donald, his ridiculous plans and actions, that hair and his unlikeability. And he’s heading to the UK on his first state visit very soon. Oh lawd.
Well hello dear readers, long time no post. Sorry about that. I thought being retired would give me oodles of time for writing but somehow the days get filled up. Anyway it’s nice to be back on the blogosphere. I’ve missed so much I could have commented on – the saga over Brexit (but now it’s just too dispiriting), the fabulous football scene (though right now being a Man United fan is, well, bloody dispiriting too), that dipstick Danny Baker (but some redneck radio station will hire him no matter what I say – it’s got to be Talksport hasn’t it?). No I’ve missed all the big juicy and newsworthy story lines so I’ll just talk about myself for a change.
Well after an action-packed horrific return posting on creatures attacking my manhood, this is an altogether more reflective piece about getting old. Sigh.
Hello again dear readers. Well that was a bit of a break; partially inspired by work commitments and also because my last postings created such critical comment. I was trying to be light and amusing whilst making a serious point but I failed on all counts and stood accused of one or two very nice traits, like misogyny and homophobia. Hmm. Not what I was aiming for to be honest, nor what I’m like. So I figured that if my writing was causing so much offence I’d better take a wee break. Anyway I’ve reflected and just fancied getting back being ranty and opinionated again. And as a treat I’ve got a charming little subject upon which to re-open my blogging account. It’s caused me discomfort, a little nausea, some incredulity, a bit of embarrassment and a nasty little after-feeling. Retribution, some might say.