Posted by Big John on June 12, 2015
Yesterday was “she who must be obeyed’s” birthday. I won’t say how old she is, but she still thinks of me as her ‘toy boy’. Well, anyway, I like to think so.
So, I dragged the poor old dear down to the pub for a birthday lunch of fish and chips and chilled Pinot Grigio. How ‘cool’ is that ?
We arrived at the local hostelry after a short walk which left us a little breathless and brought on a few minor aches and pains. Nothing terrible, just a sign that old age has caught up with us and is letting us know it.
Now, I should say that weekday lunch times in this pub are a bit like an old farts’ function, as there are always a number of creaky old gits there who, like me, have seen better days, and yesterday was no exception; for when we were about half way through our meal an old couple, and when I say ‘old’ I mean bloody ancient, entered the restaurant at what can only be called a ‘lazy snails pace’, as the old girl, who must have shrunk to about four feet nothing tall, needed one of those walker thingies with wheels, which seemed to have a mind of it’s own, and the old boy, who towered over her, was hanging on to her with one hand, whilst waving his white cane with the other.
Although the weather was quite mild, she was dressed for an Alaskan winter and he was wearing light summer attire complete with sun hat.
How this wrinkly odd couple made it to their table, let alone the pub, I don’t know. It must have taken some effort. Perhaps they had ‘escaped’ from some nearby care home. Who knows ? .. All I know is that when I watched them quietly enjoying their lunch I realized that “you are only as old as you feel”, and although they didn’t look very ‘frisky’, perhaps inside they felt twenty something and that this was …
… their first date !
Posted in family, humour | 7 Comments »
Posted by Big John on May 8, 2015
Today is the 70th anniversary of ‘VE Day’ (Victory in Europe) and I can just about remember it.
I was six years old and had lived all of my young life in war torn London, so the wail of air raid warning sirens, the boom of anti-aircraft guns, the drone of German V1 missiles and the question “Is it one of ours ?” whenever the sound of an aircraft engine was heard overhead, where all part of everyday life for me; although I was a little too young to experience the fear that slightly older children must have felt as I sat on my mother’s lap under the stairs in our basement and waited for the ‘all clear’ to sound.
Now all that had ended, and in our bomb damaged street that evening, there was a large bonfire on the ruins where once there had been houses; and some Royal Navy sailors were letting off flares and rockets from the top of the burnt out shell of the house across the road. Flags were flying from lamp posts and were hanging out of windows. Tatty home-made bunting was strung from house to house. That is, of course, if there were still houses to hang it from.
I suppose there must have been a street party, but I don’t remember it. I do remember seeing some people dancing in the middle of the road in what, in those days, was referred to as ‘a good old knees up': and I’m pretty sure that victory was being toasted in hard to come by booze.
So I was there on that momentous day in history, but, as a little kid, all the fuss didn’t mean much to me at the time; and now I can remember very little of those events. Perhaps my memories have faded with time, or perhaps, as little kids do, I just climbed on to my mum’s lap …
… and fell asleep.
Posted in family, humour, nostalgia | 4 Comments »
Posted by Big John on January 24, 2015
I enjoyed watching the first episode of ‘Wolf Hall‘ on BBC TV, although I think that I look more like Henry VIII than Damian Lewis; and perhaps there is a good reason for this, as my great-great grandfather was a Sussex farmer who, in 1839, married ‘above his station’, when he wed a lady who was a descendant of Lady Anne Hastings (née Stafford), Countess of Huntingdon, who had an affair with King Henry VIII in 1510, and who was probably his mistress for some time after that date, and certainly until 1513, as was proved by the King’s generosity towards her.
Anne had a son, Francis, 2nd Earl of Huntingdon, who was born in 1514, and although there is no documentary proof that Francis Hastings was naughty old King Henry’s illegitimate son, it would be a pretty good bet that he was the result of some royal ‘rumpy-pumpy’, and that one slender branch of my family tree connects me to the ‘Merry Monarch’ himself via Francis’s daughter, Frances Ann Hastings !
Below is a photo of that farmer and his ‘lady’s son, one of my great-uncles, who was born in 1841 when his mother’s maiden name was added to his surname …
… and a photo of me on a visit to Hampton Court Palace taken around 1985 …
… I rest my (royal) case !
Posted in family, humour | 1 Comment »
Posted by Big John on January 7, 2015
Yesterday afternoon ‘she who must be obeyed’ summoned me to the kitchen to view the sunset, which indeed, was quite spectacular, so I took a picture …
“Why don’t you send it to the TV weather people” she suggested. “They may show it on tonight’s weather report”.
So I did, and two hours later …
… There it was on BBC TV, right behind my favourite weather girl, Rachel Mackley : and I even got …
… an ‘on-screen’ credit !
Posted in family, humour | 4 Comments »
Posted by Big John on December 31, 2014
… It’s …
HAPPY NEW YEAR
Well not quite, as I feel like
shi .. I have flu: but how can this be ? .. I had my flu jab in October after taking advice from the NHS, like the good little old fart that I am; but it didn’t bloody work !
Oh, well ! … Back to the armchair, the welcoming fire, the paracetamol and
a nice cup of
… a good stiff drink !
ALL THE BEST FOR 2015
Posted in family, humour, rant | 2 Comments »
Posted by Big John on December 23, 2014
WHATEVER YOU ARE CELEBRATING
HAVE A GREAT TIME
TO YOU ALL
“Peace on Earth and goodwill to all men”
Now there’s a thought !
Posted in family, humour, nostalgia | 5 Comments »
Posted by Big John on December 7, 2014
According to a recent survey only a third of schools now stage traditional nativity plays at Christmas, complete with Mary, Joseph, shepherds and wise men. Others perform modern alternatives without religious references. Some include space-men, fairies, and even Elvis !
Now it may seem strange that this old atheist, who welcomes the latest news that Britain is fast becoming a more secular society, is saddened by the demise of that annual event when small children appeared ‘on stage’ dressed in bed sheets, towels and sandals, forgot their ‘lines’, shuffled about, pushed each other, fell over, burst into tears and waved to their mums and dads in the audience; but to me, all those years ago, it was a tradition to be enjoyed along with Santa Claus and old time pantomimes.
Of course, for those parents whose kids still take part in such performances, they no longer have to ‘raid’ the linen cupboard for their ‘Judean’ robes thanks to supermarkets and online retailers offering cheap, mass-produced nativity costumes.
… Wouldn’t you know it ?
Posted in family, humour, nostalgia, religion | 1 Comment »
Posted by Big John on November 18, 2014
I know that this must sound strange to many people, but I can remember when Christmas started … at Christmas ! .. Not, as I recently read … “during August” !
When I was a young child nothing much happened in our house until Christmas Eve apart from my dad ‘dispatching’ one of our chickens in the back yard and hanging it in the coal cellar (Yes, that’s where the meat was kept). Later my mum would pluck it and prepare it for Christmas dinner. To most people, in those days, ‘Turkey’ meant a place where they made strange smelling cigarettes.
On Christmas Eve my dad would bring home a small fir tree of some kind, which had probably been growing alongside the railway track where he had been working that day. He would also have with him a sack containing a limited assortment of fruit and nuts. No one ever asked where they came from, as wartime rationing (which continued for long after WWII) meant that an orange was something to be marvelled at: and I well remember that the first time I saw a banana I thought it was some sort of sausage.
From inside his overcoat pocket he would produce a bottle of Scotch whisky, which would have recently been ‘under the counter’ of the local off-licence (liquor store), which was run by one of his mates. He would return to the store later to pick up a crate of ‘Guinness’ and a bottle of ‘Tizer’ for me. Wine was far too ‘posh’ and was limited to sherry or port if any could be found.
My task was to make the paper chains, which I did with my mum’s help. She cut up the coloured paper and I glued the strips together with home-made paste, which didn’t always stick. Holly would be hung all over the place: and I suspect that this came from the same place as the little fir tree, which would soon be decorated with a few ‘antique’ glass baubles and some tatty tinsel.
My grandmother lived in the same street as us, and was a bit like a fairy godmother when Christmas came around, for not only did she make Christmas puddings for all the family, but somehow, managed to come up with a few extra goodies, mostly supplied by a local butcher (we never found out how she blackmailed him), and various friendly ‘black-market’ contacts. A few items had been ‘liberated’ by
dodgy members of our gallant allies, the United States Army.
On Christmas Eve I would hang up a pair of my dad’s long woollen socks, snuggle down under the blankets, watch the shadows on the wall made by a glowing fire and wish: but I never did get …
… that bloody train set !
Posted in family, humour, nostalgia | 5 Comments »