Showing posts with label Mike S. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mike S. Show all posts

Tuesday 17 June 2008

I've got nothing to say.

Now the nasty folk among you will probably be muttering praises at this moment in time, and one or two will be feeling a slight shock at this news. But I have indeed nothing to say.

I have looked at the world around me, considered the weather, the news, the furniture, the records and all things that ought to be bursting into my mind, and I have found nothing worth posting. I could once again mention my aching knees, caused by the long walk to the far away Tesco's. Quite how I imagine this will aid my fitness regime when I come back aching, worn out and end up with stiff knees for days, I do not know but there it is. The walk in the sun, with the passing clouds lowering the temperature needlessly, was indeed enjoyable. The pathway past the old oak trees especially jolly when the birds are gathered in the branches singing away. I stood and attempted to find one such which had a particularly lovely song today, but when I stood still he shut up, and once I moved on he began again, spoilsport. The bird at the checkout didn't give the impression she ever sang sweetly that's for sure.

However you don't want to know about my knees and would rather read something of importance, something interesting, and something humorous. Looks therefore like you are dwelling in a world of fantasy folks. I suppose I could discuss my habit of taping radio programmes and playing them back to myself when I attempt to enter slumberland. This is a habit I started many years ago and remains with me today. So many radio progs are broadcast at the wrong time. The idea, especially on Radio 4, appears to be that folk can stop work whenever they wish and listen in. This is not so! It may be for the middle aged, middle class females who have never worked in their lives, yet spend all day on the radio telling us about their hardship (and earning vast sums of cash while doing so) but it is not like that for normal folk, like me! Anyway, I am going through a few that have been used but I have not heard, usually because I fell asleep and missed the lot! I am amazed at some of the subjects covered by the radio. Politics, Army spies in the days of the Cold War, humour made out of quotes, humour from silly games, the Black Death alone gave me five fifteen minute programmes that was very enjoyable, although I would not like to pass it on as it were. I have a few still to listen too but who knows what I have taped there, especially as my memory is so bad I forget what I have just written sometimes,especially as my memory is so bad I forget what I have just written sometimes.

So having nothing to say I will wander off and consider cleaning that cupboard under the sink. I usually make a point of cleaning this every five or six years and judging by the pong that time may soon be up. This will help my knees readjust, the smell to ease, the neighbours to stop complaining, and will stop me looking up jobs on the web as I will not have time before I eat some foul tasting evening meal. I cannot guarantee this will be foul tasting but going on previous experience I think it's a sure bet.

I remember now that I was going to comment on my time in 'The Goblet.' You see I had this dream I was back there, sitting in my usual seat opposite the bar, with Gordon Brown and his mates in the seat immediately to the left of the door. Naturally we did not realise that Gordon Brown was Gordon Brown in those days, when there he was just one of 'those student types.' However there he certainly attended and when the pubs closed at ten, as they did then, he would wander back to his shared flat at type away till all hours working himself into a future. His mates just worked themselves onto the floor. At the appropriate time I will drop him a note and let him know I still have the photographs. If that is not worth a lifetimes tax refund I don't know what is! Drop me a line Gordon pal. However I will not mention this as the dream started well and appeared to be going fabulously especially when Lady Muck and her daughter wandered in. There immediately was a lightening of the atmosphere, a brightening in every ones eye and a lifting all round of spirits, although that was quite common in that place, being a pub and all. Just then a fat ageing bloke wandered in also, he looked the type we need in such places as he wore a stained Heart of Midlothian polo shirt, a Hearts scarf round his neck, and carried a bundle of books which he offered for sale at an 'advantageous price,' or so he said. Looking at the bright young things he cried 'Drinks all round' and the two molls immediately rushed to his side, along with all the contents of the hostelry. Pints were pulled, whiskies were poured and the glamour girls beamed happily. 'That will be £478 please,' muttered the barmaid, 'Who's paying?' 'Adullamite is,' muttered Mike from the middle of a pint glass.
I then woke up in a very cold sweat.

Therefore I am not going to mention this dream as it has made me weak at my aching knees........

Friday 7 March 2008

Edinburgh or Auld Reekie to you!


Reading Serizys blog earlier I was reminded of this mans excellent writing about 'Auld Reekie,' or Edinburgh, pronounced 'Edinburra.'
The foto she included gave an image of this fine city as a pace of gray skies and drizzle. There is much truth in this! Even here, in England's driest county, we started the day in fine Edinburgh fashion, gray, drizzle turning to rain, and a chill seeping through to the string vest.

The temperature is always slightly higher down here, and the constant wind blowing from the West is not missed! In days of yore we would spend some time attending 'The Goblet,' a hostelry in Rose Street frequented at that time by the friends of Gordon Brown when a student. It is not outside the bounds of possibility that the man himself would leave aside his studies, and he studied hard, to spend an evening amongst us lower orders. If only I had a camera at Hogmany!!! Alas I never had, but I could make a fortune out of the 'Daily Mail' today if I had. When leaving this place of refreshment we would saunter down to Princes Street and turn right straight into a howling freezing wind that came from the North Atlantic via Paisley. We knew it came from Paisley because of all the badly written hoax begging letters the wind carried along with it. Couple the icy wind with drizzle and we have a form of sleet unknown in Siberia! I miss it....

Of course Mike Smith reminds me of these good days in his blog, although I doubt the famous Mrs Smith would let him ever go to 'The Goblet,' and certainly not with us! However, if you wish to read the writings of a man famous for his notable tome 'Follow The Hearts,' I think you will find this author a worthwhile use of your time. Keep up to date with 'Auld Reekie,' without advertisements for house renting, here.