Friday Workout

My new exercise machine has arrived!
Whereas the aged cheap imitation Hoover was noisy and simple to use my new one, which arrived via Royal Mail this morning, is very quiet, sucks powerfully and a quick hoover left me feeling like I had been through a workout!  It appears that to get fit I must hoover daily, I may wear the aged carpet out soon.  This reminded me of the time we bought my mother a new hoover some years ago.  Her old one was second hand and she had been using it for some time.  The new one, straight forward normal vacuum looked good.  She tried it in the lobby at first and we saw her shoot down the length of the lobby and crash against the main door!  It was more powerful than she expected!  That lasted a few years, I hope my expensive one last 20 years, though I doubt I will care much about such things by then. 

John came and grouted the tiles this morning.  I await his return, he has got two other jobs to do at the same time, and he will finish the seal around the kitchen and then all will be complete.  A leak or two and all this work resulted.  There again, had we not done it now it would have required doing sometime soon anyway.  

How lovely to see the West Indies Cricket Team doing well, at least when they are playing England. 
52 - 2 at lunch, good start but really more is required here.  It is only England, surely you can win this one?
Now it is lunchtime and the words flow.  When cricket stops the words begin.  These guys can talk for hours about a man's hand position.  Hos feet movement can fill many a rainy day, and the statistics re his recent games also give hours and hours of words, do they mean anything, really?

 
Boris does it well!
He 'visited' Scotland yesterday.  Note, 'visited,' as if it was a foreign country and not part of the UK! He at no time went close to Nicola Sturgeon the First Minister, he spoke to no politicians, he avoided the press, bar the lackeys.  Spouting nonsense he then toured the empty far reaches of Orkney.  Here, the small dwelling of 'Twatt' welcomed him.  They welcomed him with signs reading 'ONE TWATS ENOUGH!' He avoided them, stopped at an empty area for a press brief and ran away home again.  The Scotch Whisky people wished him to offer the help promised last time he spoke, none came, others, such as 'Baxters' the Soup people welcomed him, well known 'Tomb Tabards' they.  In short, his mission to encourage the Scots into the UK has led to many joining the SNP, support for independence growing, and another failure to add to his long list.
Stay in Britain Boris, Scotland does not want you.

Quiet Wednesday

I sit here almost content.
The place is remarkably quiet.  No workmen muttering from beneath the bunkers. No leaks to worry, no neighbours babies crying.  All is quiet contentment.  Food, such as it was, has been dealt with, dishes washed, all neat and sparkling, bar the washing machine that has been missed again.  The washing machine that works, and that without leaking anywhere!  How wonderful for all things to be in order, for the most part anyway.  Normality returns, joy, peace and blessings all around.
The quiet results from two weeks of hassle and mayhem.  Even work that still has to be done, grouting the tiles, will be little disruption.  All is peace and almost goodwill.
So, what is about to go wrong I ask...?

Ah yes, going wrong brings us to Boris.  Challenged on the Russian report he attacks 'Islingtonian Remainers,' for reasons that are unclear.  Possibly he has forgotten his trip to Moscow unattended by security, the £2 million donated recently by 4 oligarchs, the dozens of Russians given British nationality so they could donate to the Tory party Putins money, let alone the actual report that claims Cameron, May and he are at it with Russian backhanders.
All governments are corrupt, this one has gone beyond the most outlandish African tin pot dictator and will continue to act this way until someone stops them. 
  

One result of the work was the need for a decent hoover.  Today, via John Lewis no less, I ordered this one.  Hopefully, spending more will ensure a better result and a result that will last some years.
I remember my aunt having a hoover that caused us to wonder.  She bought it before the war (she worked in 'Jenners' no less and got it cheap) and was using it well into the 60s.  I expect it was never renewed and was there when she died.  I am now wondering where it went, had our side of the family cleared the house one of us would be using it still.
One day soon my floor will be cleared of dust...

Tuesday Twaddle

Another joy filled day as the washing machine pipe was fixed.  Poor Kevin spent considerable time under the bunker fiddling with it but appears to have successfully healed the problem.  A trial run satisfied him, and he knows washing machines, so hopefully when I use it again it will be successful. 
To complete our joy John spent the rest of the time attaching tiles to the kitchen wall.  This too was successful and on Friday, probably, the grout will be filling in the gaps and then I can paint over the scratches on the wall, hoover, again, over the dust they create and live happily ever after.
Another good job finished, another satisfied customer, sort off, and another landlord looking at the costs and muttering things.  With next door now empty I expect the rent there will rise to £600 a month!  This means a rich, short term occupant, or a couple, of dubious background, to welcome into our midst.  Lock down, job losses and high rents, what joy to be flat searching at this time.

Naturally nothing else has been done.  Tomorrow I once again rebuild the house, look to the 'to do' list, and hope nothing else goes wrong.
I note the 'Russian Report' has arrived and the press concentrate on one paragraph, the one in which Putin seeks Scots independence.  They ignore the Conservatives avoiding examining Russian involvement because Putin's men are giving them millions in handouts.  Cameron, May, Johnson, a long line of corruption at the highest level, and treasonable probably.  All the while Dominic is running around killing the armed forces.  Why do the media not make more inquiries abut these things I ask...?

Rejoice! Rejoice! Call it all joy! Oh yeah!

Three days of hard manual work, lots of banging and crashing, much cursing, and we have a new kitchen with gleaming sink and fancy new hob.  How lovely!  Last night I hastened to Sainsburys for feed to use on it, met the same young checkout girl once again, she now thinks I'm after her, what is it about girls?  Returning to realise I had forgotten the main items!
However, life is good, the kitchen complete, the work finished. 
Waking from a dream in which crowds of attractive young women were sending their boyfriends to get me, I struggled though into my gleaming new world.  All was well, the light was bright, the day ahead was planned as a 'Chicken Soup' day, once I had gone back to get the bits I forgot, and then nothing but joy all day.
I put the washing on, secure in the new settings the boys had made and stuffed my fat face putting back the 5 pounds weight loss the bug had given me this week.
 What could possibly go wrong?

As I ate the water left the washing machine, down the waste pipe and trickled cheerily across the kitchen floor!
A mad, unfit, panic ensued, water stopped by placing bucket under leak at foot of waste pipe, cloths used to wipe floor, ensuring the floor is cleaner than it has been for years, and struggle to work out problem.  Machine off, sink also blocked, realise this is problem, make use of 'Tesco, 'Sink and Drain unblocker,' £2, which eventually unblocks whatever was the cause.  Pump sink and use second bottle of Tesco best to ensure blockage goes.  Later, with manhandling several pails and risky control of waste tube from machine, finished washing.  I did this quite well though now I have an even cleaner floor!  I just hope none went down stairs...  
At least I know where the crack in the pipe is and the boys will return, cheerfully, next week to fix.   Another, 'Tesco Sink and Drain unblocker' £2, will be obtained, the washing will wait another week now, that is not unusual in this house...
Too knackered to seek Chicken Soup material...

So now I sit here, eating my 'Ripe and Ready to eat' Bananas from Costa Rica.  However, delicious they may be but the energy is insufficient to force me to rise unless I must!  Once again I seek a new diet, to inspire energy, to lose weight, to save cash.  Bananas and chicken soup are on order, Oats in the cupboard, other things, including rice water, are being looked onto.  I may also have a word with the undertaker woman up the road, just in case...

Have you noticed that when you log in to a newspaper they demand you accept cookies.  To fulfil the Law they offer a chance to 'reject all' but this never works!  Next time you return it asks again, same choice, same failure.  This must break a law somewhere surely?  
This is either incompetence in every paper or just strange coincidence.  I do not wish to have their cookies, or indeed anything else from them.  However, the problem is how to stop this...

It's all Joy Here...

Over the weekend I picked up one of those stomach bugs making it impossible to eat.  Add to this muscle stiffness in my back, and elsewhere, made it impossible to sleep.  I could not lie down and so for two night have sat up in the couch occasionally dozing.  This morning I managed to eat a tasteless bite and sleep for a short while before the workmen arrived.
All was set, they were late, soon to be standing around asking "Where does that go?" "What is it?"
"I can't see..." and "Now what...?"  I slumped in the chair, more alive than I have been for a couple of days, but not really caring.
The banging commenced, things were removed, questions asked and now they wonder how to deal with all the pipes, especially the one from the boiler that the plumber put in. 
These three days might become three weeks...

I retired to the West Wing where I found a US MLS game.  This appeared to begin at 9am in Florida heat!  How different from those days of standing in the hail at Love Street, Paisley, where we lost 3-0, or a dark Dundee night at Tannidice where we lost there also.  Actually the game was not great and after my night I slept through most of it.  Naturally this allowed the men to get on with the work without any help from myself.  This did not hinder them.
While I mused as to tomorrows endeavours I glanced at the news I had missed.  Still we must wear masks, unless we are Michael Gove, still English death totals are regarded as 'UK' totals, and still MPs on committee meetings by internet have to tell the cat to "Get your tail out the way."  This never happened when Disraeli was around!
Murders, celebs, cannabis farms, the usual empty news fills the pages.  I always glance at the front page of all papers, the screaming large headlines never offer news, it sometimes makes me wonder if we have a 'free press' when no 'news' is offered bar 'Bread and Circus!'   Oh yes, Boris has dumped 'Huawei' from the 5g network, well by 2027 that is.  The Chinese are annoyed.  They of course knew this was going to happen, the were listening in on all the discussions.

Take a Leak...

My blissful existence, which consists of staring out the window, reading things and stuffing bad food down my throat, was hindered this morning by the approach of the workmen.  The small leak under the sink required fixing, the plumber stated the sink required replacing, this requires renovating the entire kitchenette.  
I awaited their arrival with baited breath.
They came, they saw, they debated, they pointed, they measured, they cogitated, they refused, they changed their minds, they pointed once again, they remeasured, they cogitated but mostly stood staring blankly muttering "Well...maybe" and "Hmmm..."  "We could ..."  and "But what about that..." and so on.  
Eventually they decided, it all had to come out.  All required renovation.  
They stared at me.
"Everything has to be moved," they stated happily, grinning too cheerfully for my liking.  
"Where to?" enquired I.
Giggles all round from them.
"There may be dust," said one.
"With you there is always dust said I," bringing nods and agreement from both.  
Quite how the hoover has lasted so long no-one knows.    
Eventually we agreed.  Next Tuesday they will arrive, remove the entire kitchenette and replace it.  There is no other option.  The leak is one thing but underneath all is becoming rotten and requires work either now or later.  I suppose this was built in the 1970's, possibly 45 - 50 years ago so it will be getting old and as bits underneath were breaking off as they fiddled about it is probably the time for action.
The actual leak has been temporarily sealed, downstairs need worry no more, bar the noise and dust of course, but now I have to move everything into space that does not exist and continue to live.  Next week I will need to live in a workshop!
I look forward to this...!

   
During the discussion we discussed St Stephens in London where the Landlord found me all those years ago.  There I was, up there at the top, the window open as it is easier to open it than clean it, and quite happy bar the number of disturbed and disturbing tenants that were beginning to arrive.  So I moved to this wee market town full of boredom where I fitted in perfectly.  
However I did learn something I had not known before.  I was under the impression the first landlord in London had bought the house, indeed all his houses, during the war.  It appears this was wrong, he obtained these run down premises, and continued to let them be run down as much as possible,  until the council made him do them up.  He sold them!  
In fact he had obtained the building in the early 60s when Peter Rachman, a notorious landlord, had died and the buildings sold on.  Rachman had specialised in bedsit tenancies.  Usually the West Indians that came in during the 50s were his clients as he knew there were less protections for them.  He, or at least those who collected the high rents, were known to use despicable tactics on the clients.  Setting dogs on those who could not pay, acid thrown, or removing the staircase so they could not get it, or out!  In the end this led to many changes in law, though it did not help that race riots in that part of London were common at the time.  He moved himself into Winnington Road, Hampstead, and moved around in a chauffeur driven Rolls-Royce.  He was done on occasions by the police, who were desperately seeking to catch him and his men, for prostitution that was taking place in his flats.  I sometimes wonder who has been sleeping in my bed there in times past!  
I had been told he was a Jew who ended up in Auschwitz but in fact he was a Polish Jew caught by the Germans who escaped in Soviet held territory.  This did him no good as he was sent to Siberia with 3 million other Polish men, women and children, and eventually they escaped when Hitler invaded Russia and these men formed the 2nd Polish Corps.  He served in the Middle East and ended his war in Italy.  From there they were moved to the UK where Rachman like so many others remained.    
Rachman died after marrying his long time girlfriend but he had many other woman at the time including Christine Keeler and Mandy Rice-Davis, famous for other famous people they knew.  He kept them in local flats, for the use off, and his money was a major attraction for them.  However his style of record keeping, not letting the left hand know what the right hand is doing, meant that at his sudden death, he took a heart attack while driving, there was insufficient paperwork to prove ownership of properties.  His friends grabbed what they could.
I need to state at this point my landlord is not like this man.  This landlord does not offer a small payment to move, insert loud, all day and night party loving types all around, or indeed do deals with the Kray twins to keep them out of his hair.  
Dealing with plumbers can of course be worse than this...

How to be an Idiot No 153.

So the urge came upon me.  It doesn't happen often.  Suddenly I decided to fix the kitchen sink!  Some time back, in the days of never ending rain, I obtained a tube of sealant for the job.  The sink required urgent repair as the sealant was fast falling apart.  This was a result of the building moving slowly, oh so slowly, over time.  I had replaced the sealant about ten years ago in a similar situation and now I noticed the gaps along the wall, plus the tiles separating from one another by some distance.  I decided to act!  
Some months later I bought the sealant and placed it in the corner so I would not forget.  Cold weather, very cold and lots of it accompanied by freezing rain, distracted my well meant intentions.  Time past, only a few months or so, but today the great day arrived!  I got to work with a will, well a small Stanley knife actually, removing the remnants of the previous badly bodged job.  This went well.  By the time I had finished this small area was covered with foul, used sealant, several tiles that fell down, one breaking as it did so, plus an amazing amount of muck from who knows where!  
Was I dismayed? Well yes actually!
Anyhow I organised the job, took the old tube of sealant still in the sealant gun all those years later from the gun....hold on how does it come out?  
I pushed it, I pulled it, I turned it this way and that.  I twisted that bit, pulled this bit, cursed it a lot, but it would not remove itself.  This is daft thought I as I had this trouble before and in the end it was a simple thing to remove the old tube.  I just couldn't do it!  Pull, push, twist, curse, drop it, start again.  Look at it carefully from all angles, inspect every part, it is simple, it must be that bit, no it isn't, try this, didn't work.  
Isn't it always the way.  Instruction manuals always say 'Place part 'A' in part 'B,' then using Philips screwdriver screw bolt.'  Simple, but you don't have that screwdriver, the part 'A' doesn't fit and Part 'B' is a different shape from the illustration.  Now I had that sort of problem.  
Naturally I threw it down and had tea.
Later, much later, I picked up sealant gun and just pulled and pushed at both ends and the old tube fell out.
Apart from almost breaking my toe I was pleased!   
Insert new tube.  Cut top off.  Place hose bit on end.  Take aim.  Fire!
I slowly began to squeeze the trigger, aiming carefully at the chosen line.
A thickish stream of sealant came out and failed miserably to follow the line which I was taking.  Hold on!
This stuff is grey!
What?  
In my anxiety to purchase the cheapest of the several thousand tubes standing at attention in Wickes I forgot to check the colour!  It was Grey, not white!
Grrrrrrrgnarllsnarlgrrrrrrrrrrr etc.....
Insert new tube, a tube of white sealant, hold on, I don't have one.  
Off to Tesco!  Much closer than Wickes.
One tube of £1:49 sealant, much cheaper than Wickes, later I start again.  This time the job is done, and done very badly indeed!  Technical things, like switching on a light, turning a handle and sweeping a floor, are all a bit much for me.  Inserting a never ending toothpaste like substance into a long slender gap that keeps moving was asking for trouble.  Much later the gap was filled, very badly indeed, so was the sink, the tap and even a gap on the cooker behind me!  How?  
What a mess!  It has revealed a talent unequaled since thon fellow claimed the tower at Pisa would stay straight as a die for ever.  
Tomorrow I do the bath, where, at the moment, only one tile requires replacing.  At the moment......

.

Cruel Women!

Searching through the old albums for pictures to scan in I came across this. Here is my poor brother in law, soon after he married my sister in 1961, trapped in the kitchen with a small portion of the work she had designated as his! The honeyed words, the gentle promises, the bright future living 'happily ever after,' that he had been led to believe lay before him, revealed as a chain to the kitchen sink! He would have been better joining the army!

Never trust a woman!