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nearly everything...
THOUGHT FOR LIFE: every day is a day at school [School motto: Gwell helpu na hindro
&If I can help somebody as I pass along, then my living
shall not be in vain.&]
To view previous
POSTCARDS FROM
MY SQUARE MILE
Updated: 15/08/2011
for a taste of life on the wild side of my square mile, click...
Updated: 03/04/2011
VIEWING NOTE:
Prepared on screen resolution 1280 by 720 pixels
BEYOND THE BLUE HORIZON
ANNIVERSARY
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Yes, 365 entries later, and still smiling, whether at, or with,
something old, something new, something borrowed - and just
occasionally, something blue ... in fact, my
Smile of the Day has taken on a life of its own.
&&&& It’s
been great fun along the way, but over the coming months I shall
be working on a little project, and time will be at a premium.
So I will mostly be smiling at the sort of moments that have
consistently amused me over the past year, namely the
delightfully doolally quotes, whether celebrity or otherwise,
which daily tumble out of the media machine.
&&&& So here we go, Year Two...
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Everyday a Smile of the Day
It’s not the men in your life that matters, but the life in your men
&&& &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&Mae
CASUALLY listening to Radio Wales yesterday morning, Louise Elliott and
Jamie Owen were discussing male-female relationships, especially the sexual aspect.
I was sort of half-listening – my hunter-seducer days having been way-laid
somewhere in my wake.
&&&& However, Louise read out an e-mail from a listener –
which made me half-smile because I wasn’t sure whether I’d heard right
&&&& This is where the BBC’s iPlayer comes into its own.
This morning, I listened again to that particular segment of the
programme. So this is what Louise said...
“This is from Jim in Llanelli: ‘The best
description I’ve heard for a relationship is thinking of it as an old
coal fire. You use paper and sticks to light it, then it ignites and
crackles and fires – and sparks fly ... then after a while the flames
die down – but don’t give up, just wait there because the fire will get
warmer and warmer and give off a lovely warm glow...’.”
Yes, I but I’ll tell you what, even hearing
it a second time, I still waited for something rather double
entendre-ish to come out, and which I think the piece begs for.
&&&& This is what I was expecting...
“You use paper and sticks to light it, then it ignites and
crackles and fires - and sparks fly ... then after a while the
flames die down – but don’t give up, just get your poker out and
give it a good old poke and you’ll have a roaring fire going
again in no time at all...”
I know, it’s my one-track mind, and yes, it’s a dirt track. But
you have to admit, that’s what the message was longing for.
&&&& But it’s not just me. Louise mentioned a well known
bumper sticker which has now surfaced as a T-shirt - see
alongside...
The dogs bark and the caravan moves on...
Talking of snap, crackle and pop...
“I’ve decided I want three lovers. The first
would be enormously rich with one foot in the grave, the other on a
banana skin. The second would be someone who’s passionate about
something – science, painting, anything. I don’t care. Passion is so
sexy. And finally I want someone who comes to see me twice a week. I
don’t even have to know his name.” Liza Minnelli, 65, American
actress and singer.
Yup, that definitely deserves a smile of the day spot. Mind you, I’d be
rather wary of number three, the gigolo – if I were Liza (with a Zee), I think I’d want to know where
he’s previously been dabbling and poking his fingers, if you’ll pardon
the expression.
&&&& I’m reminded of Dave Lee Roth’s delightfully doolally
Just A Gigolo:
I’m just a gigolo, and everywhere I go, the people know the game I’m
playing...
&&&& Marvellous...
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Thursday, September 29
All colours will agree in the dark
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&&&
Francis Bacon ()
TODAY, I was asked the following by a wickedly smiling 10-year-old ... I
should have sensed the ambush:
“There are three houses. One is red, one is blue and one is white. If the
red house is to the right of the house in the middle and the blue house
is to the left of the house in the middle, where is the white house?”
&&&& I have to admit I was caught well out of my
crease. Stick around...
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Mention of colours took me to my diary proper, and a recent series of
letters spotted in the Telegraph, which now deserve an airing
Motoring menagerie
SIR – A friend once had an old fawn-coloured VW which was showing its
age, so he decided to paint it. The only paint available was grey.
Being an honest citizen he was aware he had to notify the authorities.
Checking his log book he noticed the declared colour was “antelope”, so
he wrote informing them that the colour was now “elephant”.
Peter Milloy, Buckden, Cambridgeshire
SIR – In the 1990s, one of the colours Ford used for the Escort Cosworth
was called “Mallard Green”. The project engineers referred to it as
“British Racing Duck”.
Jonathan Robson, Milborne Port, Somerset
Right, every day a day at school spot: British racing green or
BRG, a colour similar to Brunswick green, hunter green, forest green or
moss green, takes its name from the green international motor racing
colour of Britain (before racing cars became whiz-by billboards).
Mugful of colours
SIR – Yesterday, a brown office chair was delivered to my home. On
inspecting the packaging, I found it was “magic cocoa”.
It sits well with my “cappuccino” Skoda.
Mike Jones, London E4
Right, back to the problem at the top – read carefully now: There are
three houses. One is red, one is blue and one is white. If the red house
is to the right of the house in the middle and the blue house is to the
left of the house in the middle, where is the White House?
&&&& Yes of course, now that it’s written in the Queen’s
English, rather than text speak, the answer is rather obvious, which is
- Washington DC.
So a colourful smile today: as William Wordsworth famously said...
&&&&&&&&&&&&& &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
My heart leaps up when I behold
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
A rainbow in the sky.
Whether it be literal or metaphorical.
Wednesday, September 28
Cleared for takeoff
TODAY, it’s a proper five-star smile. Along my morning walk through the
Towy Valley I pass an oxbow lake, which is home to a pair of swans and
their two offspring, teenagers now, I guess (I’m unsure whether they’re
still cygnets, although they continue to sport their ugly duckling
dress code).
&&&& For the past couple of weeks the adults have been
preparing, indeed urging, the youngsters to take wing. One of the adults
– I’m unsure whether it’s the cob or the pen – will lead the youngsters
to the far end of the lake, always facing into the wind, and off the
adult goes, with the kids in hot pursuit.
&&&& Parent will takeoff, the youngsters in tow, much like a
brace of gliders. All three are airborne – but the two youngsters always
chicken out (swan out?) and splash down as they reach the edge of the
lake, the end of the runway if you like.
&&&& This has been happening pretty much every morning.
Occasionally I just hear them flapping across the water as they launch
themselves, and I quietly cross my fingers that they don’t actually take
off unless I can observe them (I have never seen a young swan on its
maiden flight, and to date, curiously, these teenagers appear very
reluctant to do so).
&&&& It really has been a protracted effort to get them
their wings. Often the adult will takeoff, minus the kids, and then do a
quick circuit before returning to join the family, still firmly
But this morning it was all very different: I noticed that the
adult took just one of the youngsters to the end of the runway –
and I thought, this has to be it. So I switched on my little
camera ready - it all happens very quickly.
&&&& And off they went ... pictured alongside ...
they became airborne – and both cleared the lake, the young swan
launched successfully on its maiden flight.
&&&& I then watched them do the perfect imitation of a
circuit a trainee pilot does when practicing takeoffs and
&&&& It was a most exhilarating thing to watch. The whole
performance was much more involved than described above, so over
the next week or so I will do a proper feature over on
The young swan sets off on its great adventure ... more pics
and the full tale will follow shortly on
Smiles really do not come much better than this. Honestly.
Tuesday, September 27
I say, I say, I say...
COMPLIMENTS of the BBC’s iPlayer, I listened to last Wednesday’s Vanessa
Feltz early morning radio show, my last chance before it disappeared off line.
&&&& Each weekday morning, Vanessa invites her listeners to
get in touch with their responses to the morning’s topic. So, last
Wednesday: “Due to our increased use of
e-mails, texts and tweets, they say none of us know any jokes any more.
Surely that’s not right? And don’t call me Shirley.” Ho, ho,
So Vanessa invited us to submit our favourite joke – by e-mail or text,
obviously. Now I only heard the opening 30 minutes or so of the show,
but what I heard made me smile, so I said to myself, as I do, must
listen to the whole show, just in case there’s a really good one hiding
away in there – and there was.
&&&& But before I get there, just a random selection of the
jokes on offer...
“Doctor, doctor, I think I’m a moth.”
“Sorry, I’m a medical doctor – you need the
practice psychiatrist, further along, third door on the left.”
“I know, but I saw your light was on...”
“I went to buy a camouflage outfit today - but
couldn’t find any.”
“I saw a chameleon this morning – what a rubbish
chameleon.”
“I didn’t want to believe that my dad, who’s a
council road worker, has turned into a thief – but when I got home, all
the signs were there.”
“I can only remember 25 letters of the
alphabet. I don’t know why.” That’s really a verbal joke, I
Remembering yesterday’s Quantum Limerick, celebrating the news
that Einstein could perhaps be wrong about nothing travelling faster
than the speed of light otherwise we start travelling backwards through
time – I think this one is exceptionally clever...
&&&& “The barman says: ‘We don’t
serve time travellers in here.’ Dr Who walks into a bar...”
Anyway, here’s the one that really made me smile...
You are on a horse, gal on
your left on your right is an elephant travelling
at t directly in front of you is a kangaroo, and
your horse is u behind a lion is chasing you. What
must you do to safely get out of this highly dangerous situation?
&&&& Get off the merry-go-round and
act your age.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Off to bed at ten, which is my usual time all things being equal, and I
caught the tail-end of the news headlines on the radio – news of the
death at age 89 of David Croft, the co-creator of many hit sitcoms,
including Dad’s Army. And of course they played that famous clip
where young Private Pike, atop the
step ladder, sings:
&&&& “Whistle while you work/Hitler
is a twerp/He’s half balmy/So’s his army/Whistle while you work.”
&&&& Captured U-boat captain to
Pike: “Your name will also go on the list – what is it?”
&&&& Captain Mainwaring: “Don’t
tell him, Pike.”
No matter how many times I hear it, it is still funny. Now that’s what I
call drifting off to sleep with a smile on my face.
Monday, September 26
Falling satellites at the speed of light
LAST Thursday I rounded off my bulletin with news that “a Nasa satellite
the size of a bus ‘could land almost anywhere on the planet’ sometime
over the next couple of days”. And I pondered whether that would be a
satellite the size of a London double-decker bus or, whisper it, a
charabanc?
&&&& As it happens, I submitted a one-liner to the
Telegraph’s& letters page on the subject – and today, there it
was, nestling among this little lot...
Fretting about
bombardment from outer space
SIR – You reported that the Nasa weather satellite that crashed to earth
this weekend was “the size of a bus” (September 23). I sincerely hope
that three more don’t come along all at once.
Paul Burlinson, Parwich, Derbyshire
SIR – When you say “the size of a bus”, would that be a London bus or a
charabanc?
HB, Llandeilo, Carmarthenshire
SIR – The depressing news about the economic crisis has recently got
worse. I realised this weekend that my chances of being hit by a piece
of falling satellite were 4,375 times greater than the odds on me
winning the National Lottery.
Keith Rogers, Merthyr Tydfil, Glamorgan
SIR – Given that we are so adept at putting things up into space, is it
not time we mastered their safe retrieval? I spent Friday night under
the kitchen table with a saucepan on my head while clutching a bottle of
single malt.
Arthur Ord-Hume, Guildford, Surrey
SIR – Should I be worried that no one seems to
have been capable of predicting where large chunks of a redundant
spacecraft were going to land on Earth? What if it had been an
intercontinental missile?
Robert Hood-Wright, Nanstallon, Cornwall
SIR – The fear of the sky falling is not
restricted to Chicken Licken and Co (Leading article, September 23). A
visit to almost any park or open space will reveal council
litter-pickers, mower-drivers and gardeners wearing hard hats.
&&&& The only identifiable reason must be that the
health-and-safety brigade has decreed the sky overhead to be a danger.
Marcus Croome, Truro, Cornwall
smiley selection there, for sure. Also...
Speed of light
THE day after my bus letter I also submitted another following news that
Einstein’s theory of special relativity, proposed in 1905, which states
that nothing in the universe can travel faster than the speed of light,
has just been challenged by a bunch of scientists somewhere deep
underground in a place called Cern.
&&&& The following letters appeared in the Telegraph,
also today...
Leading light
SIR – You report that physicists think they may have seen subatomic
particles called neutrinos exceeding the universe’s speed of light
(Speed of light ‘broken’ by scientists, September 23).
&&&& I recently spotted the first commercial application of
this effect on the M25, where a lorry ahead of me proudly displayed the
message: “Tomorrow’s logistics today.”
R A Buckland, Culverstone, Kent
SIR – As Einstein suggested that travelling faster than the speed of
light would reverse the passage of time, the team at Cern may yet have
the opportunity to ask him if his theory of special relativity still
Anthony Gordon, London E14
Having had my bus letter published, I wasn’t going to have another make
the cut for a while, let alone the same day. Anyway, here’s mine about
the speed of light, along with some warp thinking, which
I thought rather good...
With a cloud of dust and a hearty Hi Ho Captain Kirk
SIR – Please God, make it so that Einstein’s theory that nothing in the
universe can travel faster than the speed of light is wrong, and that
Star Trek got it right all along. Engage!
HB, Llandampness
thoroughly enjoyed this response in the ‘Comments’ section, from
Stoobs [which I have marginally
paraphrased]:
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
There once was a
fine fellow named Bright,
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
So he set off
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Einsteinian way,
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
And he returned
home the previous night.
guess that’s what you would call a Quantum Limerick, boom-boom!
Sunday, September 25
Sex and the single man
“LIFE is a sexually transmitted disease.”
Julian Huppert, 33, the Liberal Democrat MP for Cambridge.
A curious quote, a sort of “glass is half empty” metaphor. I’m a “glass
half full” man myself, so I guess I’d say that “Life is a triple jump,
as in: a hop, a step and a jump, fingers crossed.”
And talking of which: “Oh come on, it’ll only
take a minute.” Virginia Ironside, 66, a British author, journalist
and agony aunt, recalls a chat-up line used on her by a boyfriend,
trying to lure her into bed. She said it worked.
All I can say is, I wish I’d thought of that one. It would have gone
down quite well with my own little effort when I was an eager young buck about town: “You
strike me as a lady who is an expert at reducing the size of a man’s
problem.” A line paraphrased from the 1954 film Beau Brummell.
always made the girls smile, even if they didn’t always respond with the
famous Mae West line: “Why don’t you come up sometime and see me? ...
Come on up, I’ll tell your fortune.”
“The oats we grow for horses are far too good
for humans. Racehorses are like Formula One cars, they need the best
fuel.” James Phillips, farm estate manager at Highclere Castle in
the English county of Hampshire, which is used for the hit British TV
series Downton Abbey.
I beg to differ about those oats being far too good for humans. I should
think Silvio Berlusconi, with his very personal and life-affirming After Eights (eight girls a
night, at the last count), deserves nothing but the very best oats. It gives a whole new
meaning to the phrase ‘over the jumps’.
Enough sex already. I’ve got a headache.
Saturday, September
Be afraid, be very afraid
THERE are three things in life I fear: rats, snakes and dentists. They
do say that you must confront those things you dread if you want to
exorcise the fear. Well, I’ve crossed rats off the list. Sort of.
A few years back, a rat came down through an exposed part of the ceiling
of the kitchen/utility room (some emergency repair work was going on).
Honestly, the thing was huge. You know how the song goes: there were
rats, rats, as big as pussycats, in the quartermaster’s store...
&&&& Well, my visitor was one mother pussy. At least it
looked like it to me. Anyway, I managed to isolate it in the utility
room. Now I wasn’t going to be a big girl’s blouse and call for help –
it happened around ten in the evening anyway.
&&&& So I got myself a big stick, but before entering the
“cage” I tucked the bottom of my trouser legs into my socks. This I did
intuitively.
&&&& When I was but a lad on the farm, a contractor would
annually visit with his big threshing machine to separate the grain from
the wheat. Despite the machine, it was still quite a labour intensive
job, so neighbours would come to help.
&&&& The day after, the contactor and his machine would move
on to the next farm, and all the neighbours would follow to help out.
That’s the way things happen in a farming community.
&&&& Watching all this going on, I’d noticed that all the
workers would tie the bottom of their trouser legs tight with bits of
string. Much to my surprise I discovered the reason for this being that
it would prevent any disturbed rats that were nesting or hiding in the huge straw
rick panicking and running up their trouser legs to escape.
&&&& I am reliably told that rats really will run up a
drainpipe to escape, so a loose hanging trouser leg is a perfect bolt
hole. God forbid, can you imagine that happening?
&&&& Anyway, that lesson had burnt itself onto my hard
drive, so whatever else would unfold between me and the rat, that
particular nasty wasn’t going to happen.
&&&& The confrontation with the rat was quite fraught. It
screamed and spat, but eventually I caught it with the stick – and then
like James Bond with the tarantula in Dr. No, it was whack!-whack!-whack!
Sadly there was no accompanying music to add to the drama. So that was the end of the rat,
although I have to say, I am still wary of the blasted things.
I have also crossed off my fear of dentists – the original trepidation
the result of a few bad experiences when young, I guess. A few years ago
a new dentist came to town, young Aimee Jones, and I have to say that
she has a kindly, reassuring way about her, and I no longer fear going
along for my six-monthly check.
&&&& So last Wednesday I paid Aimee a visit: inspection,
scale and polish – no problems. Anyway, I mentioned to Aimee that I
never know where to put my tongue when she’s rooting about in there.
I then told her about a picture I’d briefly seen that morning as
part of the launch of the 2012 edition of the Guinness World
Records annual, a photograph of the girl who boasts the longest
&&&& Today I remembered about it and had a look online … and
it certainly is a worthy winner of today’s smile of the day...
&&&& It’s a very funny image, compliments of Guinness World
Records. The longest tongue (female) belongs to Chanel Tapper,
left, (length confirmed on 29/09/10), and measures 3.8in
(9.75cm) from tip to top lip - I wondered how they measured the
beast. It gives a whole new meaning to the expression that
Chanel gave someone “a good tongue lashing”.
&&&& The outright longest tongue though belongs to the UK’s
Stephen Taylor (as confirmed 11/02/2009) – his lengthy
Chanel Tapper flashes her amazing tongue:
&&Put it away, Chanel, we don't know where it's been.&
licker measures 3.86in (9.8cm).
&&&& I was surprised that there wasn’t a bigger male-female
Anyway, that’s the
also rats, sort of... snakes
(often called politicians) remain a problem.
Friday, September 23
It’s a tie
BEARING in mind that I set off on a daily walk into Llandampness to collect the
morning newspaper, I rather liked this recent missive in the
Telegraph...
Yesterday’s news tomorrow
SIR – Some years ago, a stressed businessman was holidaying on Tresco,
the most beautiful of the Isles of Scilly.
He went to the quayside shop and asked for a newspaper. “Yesterday’s or
today’s?” asked the shopkeeper. “Today’s, of course,” he replied. “Well,
come back tomorrow,” she said.
Rosie Inge, Bleadney Wells, Somerset
Ten out of ten. Oh yes, talking of yesterday’s news, I’d cut a piece out
from last weekend’s Sunday Times which had made me smile XL at
the time – so here we are, better late than never.
&&&& Debate is raging about the underlying social message of
the tie, and whether it’s okay to go without, whatever your particular station in
life, indeed something regularly spotted these days as both David
Cameron and Nick Clegg adopt the open collar strategy.
&&&& Anyway, the paper did a FINAL
WORD piece on it...
Tying itself in knots
When George Thomas, the former Speaker
[famous for his “Order, order!” instructions when Mr Speaker],
first entered the Commons chamber as a young Labour MP, he caused uproar
on the Conservative benches. “Are you aware you’re wearing an Old
Etonian tie?” demanded an indignant Tory whip.
&&&& “No,” said Thomas, taken aback. “I bought it in the
Co-op in Tonypandy.”
Now I know rather well a nephew of “Uncle George”, the one I call The
Preacher Man (The PM for short), and honestly, the line above is
absolutely typical of the things he too comes out with.
&&&& Back with the tie: now I will only wear one when it would be bad form
not to – funerals, christenings, weddings, official functions, etc –
indeed I’d be quite happy to see them banned altogether, along with the
burka, or whatever it is that is used to hide the face from public
&&&& But I don’t lose any sleep over it and will happily
slip on a tie as and when necessary. Anyway, the Sunday Times piece
finishes thus...
Far from being the uniform of mediocre, however, neckwear is entirely
practical. For a start, it’s a reliable economic indicator: narrow
during lean years and wide in times of plenty. A tie can be a fashion
statement or a badge of office. And it is very handy for holding up
trousers in emergencies.
&&&& So the message to opponents of the necktie must be
this: get knotted.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
The above cartoon compliments of the Telegraph’s Adams:
the folder says “Conference 2011”, and of course today’s
politicians don’t know which party they should belong to, hence the
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe indecision as to which colour to wear.
&&&& But I’ll tell you what about the Sunday Times&
piece: you need to be reasonably slim to use
a tie as a trouser belt. Oh yes, in the absence of a lady prepared to whip
off her tights in a tight corner, a tie makes a perfect emergency fan belt
for the car should that
&&&& By the way, what is the female equivalent of a jock
strap? Yes of course, a fan belt.
One double-L of a time
Listening to Chris Evans on his morning show, he had the agreeable Welsh actor Michael
Sheen as his guest. Along the way, the show’s ‘travel totty’, Lynn
Bowles, delivered the travel news and mentioned
“Llangollen” in despatches, as only a Welsh girl could.
&&&& Michael asked her if she had ever had to say that
incredibly long place name in North Wales, and she said yes. Chris
chipped in and said he too could say it, so, at 3-2-1 – all three of
them delivered it in perfect unison, with much style. It was definitely
&&&& Which gives me an excuse to show this again...
Thursday, September 22
The sun, the moon and a satellite the size of a bus
“ANOTHER shocking morning,” said a familiar local face, also collecting
his paper at the newsagent’s, as I was. “Just like yesterday,” he
quickly added. I nodded and smiled in agreement, lying through my front
teeth. What was he talking about?
&&&& Now I don’t see any point in arguing over something
totally pointless, but I presumed that his view of the morning, at
around half-six, was clouded by the sun having not yet risen. Sunrise
was still some 30 minutes or so away.
&&&& In fact it was a fairly agreeable morning. Quiet,
still, mild, somewhat cloudy, yes, but not th
indeed, along my two mile walk across the fields to reach town, dawn
looked reasonably promising.
&&&& What baffled me most though was the fellow’s reference to
yesterday being a bad morning. In fact Wednesday provided as perfect a
dawn as you could ever wish for.
&&&& Yesterday, as I approached Llandeilo across the fields,
with the black mountain on the horizon, the sun was still some 45
minutes from making its appearance, but its approach was lighting up the
cloudless eastern sky in glorious fashion.
&&&& I stopped and took a picture of the dawn. It was quite
stunning...
The brightness of the eastern sky in the above picture doesn’t capture
how dark it still was – note the street lights still on, the automatic
light sensors yet to be triggered. And of course that delightfully
delicate mist over the meadow. Perfect.
Now I return home along a different route, through the Towy Valley
itself. My total circuit is a triangular route: from home to town is a
virtual straight line, but the return journey must be about three or
four miles, depending which route I take.
&&&& Anyway, on my way home, the rising sun was reflecting
beautifully off the trees in Dinefwr Park, catching perfectly the
changing colours of the leaves as autumn begins to kick in.
How could anyone not smile at nature’s ever changing wallpaper. But just
in case I missed anyone out...
“Fact: the moon is visible from the Great Wall
Of China.” Danny Baker, 54, English comedy writer, journalist,
broadcaster and enthusiastic tweeter.
parting thought: back on the 8th of September, my smile was to do with
Collins the dictionary people removing so-called obsolete words from
their smaller dictionaries, including aerodrome and charabanc, words
presumed to have become extinct in the past year.
&&&& Personally, as long as there are aeroplanes, there will
and as long as we look at wonderful old black and
white photographs from a previous age, then the word charabanc will
never die.
Well now, I see that a Nasa satellite the size of a bus ‘could land
almost anywhere on the planet’ sometime over the next couple of days.
Now will that be a satellite the size of a London double-decker bus or,
whisper it, a charabanc?
Wednesday, September
Heigh-Ho, Heigh-Ho, it’s off to toss a dwarf we go&
THE following headline on the front page of the Daily Mail& caught my eye
at the newsagent first thing this morning...
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Look out, Mike,
Zara’s coming
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Trouble for
Tindall? Zara Phillips is off to New Zealand after his nightclub antics
Last week I recall reading that there was a bit of a shemozzle
out in All Blacks territory following the England rugby
team’s night on the town for a spot of rest and recuperation
after their opening World Cup game against Argentina.
&&&& They were photographed at a bar where a
dwarf-throwing contest was occurring. Just occasionally, you
don’t want to read any further than the headline in case it’s
all a bit of a let down. So I made my excuses and moved on.
&&&& However, there was also the business of Mike Tindall
and the blonde in the bar – and I have to admit that I did look
at the CCTV footage online.
&&&& Just boys on a night out, really, and all at the
wonderfully named Altitude Bar in Queenstown, of all places.
Been there, a stunning location, the last place on earth where
you’d think
High-flying England winger Chris Ashton looks about ready
to be launched to the wolves at the Queenstown Altitude Bar
they needed a dwarf-throwing contest to brighten
things up.
Be all that as it may, and given the Daily Mail& headline at
the top, I shall now return to the weekend’s Sunday Times, in
particular Tabloid Week by Roland White. I quote an exceedingly
smiley piece...
Before Mike Tindall became Mr Zara Phillips
earlier this year, did he take advice about how his life might change on
marrying into the royal family? I picture a senior courtier, dressed in
a frock coat, taking the England rugby captain to one side, handing him
a small sherry, and offering the following tips:
&&&& 1& Don’t let the papers get any pictures of
you enjoying a boozy night out.
&&&& 2& If you must attend a boozy night out,
try to avoid kissing any blonde.
&&&& 3& If you accidentally kiss a blonde, for
goodness sake don’t bury your head in her breasts.
&&&& 4& Avoid dwarf-throwing contests.
&&&& 5& Never, ever step out of line in a place called
Queenstown.
So the Sun’s front page headline on Thursday will come as
something of a disappointment:
&&&&&& “ZARA’S RUGBY HUBBY GROPES
BLONDE ... his head in her boobs at dwarf-throwing contest”
“The girl was absolutely stunning and all over him,” a “source” told the
paper. “They were flirting with each other and getting extremely
touchy-feely [touch – pause – engage]. It’s not the behaviour you would
expect of a man who is not only England captain but also now a member of
the royal family.”
&&&& You’ll no doubt be as shocked as I was upon reading
this: surely the correct phrase is “a person of short stature throwing
contest”.
Oh dear, what more can I add? (Well, I did add No. 5, above -
Queenstown, you couldn’t make it up.) Truly a smile of the day. But you do
wonder why these people appear to be totally void of wisdom and
foresight, even if the blonde is, apparently, an old friend of the royal
couple. Did they really not sense the huge sign shouting THIS WAY TO
THE AMBUSH!
&&&& The most recent headline I’ve spotted in relation to
the story is this one...
England centre speaks
publicly for first time since being caught on camera in bar with blonde...
Mike Tindall
has failed to address the storm of controversy which swirled around him
after going out drinking with a group of England players. Tindall looked
sheepish as he sat alongside England manager Martin Johnson and both men
side-stepped questions on the issue.
&&&& Then came this memorable quote:
“We have put it to bed. We are looking forward to
a big game, we are playing Romania,” said Johnson.
Oh dear. What else did they put to bed? But musn’t complain, for it all adds
hugely to the pleasures of the passing parade.
Tuesday, September 20
Romping and yomping the night away with Silvio
“YESTERDAY evening there was a queue outside my
door ... there were 11 of them ... I had only eight of them because I
couldn’t manage more. You just can’t get round to all of them. But this
morning I feel good, I’m pleased with the way I manage to resist the
challenge of life.”
The Italian prime minister, Silvio Berlusconi, 74, boasting to a friend
of his sexual resolutions after a New Year’s Eve party, according to
telephone intercepts leaked over the weekend from an investigation into
his erotic “bunga-bunga” parties.
Italian newspapers have published extracts from 3,500 pages of
transcripts ordered by prosecutors investigating Giampaolo Tarantini, a
businessman suspected of paying models, showgirls and prostitutes to
attend the prime minister’s parties.
&&&& The Corriere della Sera& newspaper said it
had decided not to publish “the roughest or most vulgar passages,
including detailed sexual descriptions, out of respect for readers”.
The mind boggles. Honestly, it puts Michael Winner and his 130 women
over 50 years of romancing the stone rather in its place (see
yesterday’s smile of the day). What is more, I can’t wait to have a chat
with Old Shaggy down at the Crazy Horsepower Saloon to have his
&&&& There’s a standing joke in the Crazy Horsepower
– one I have previously quoted here – that both Old Shaggy and Young
Shagwell can do that “shaggy” thing as fast as they can slide the girls
under them. It’s a joke that always raises a smile down at the pub.
Who’d have thought that, actually, it isn’t a joke.
Mind you, is all that true about Berlusconi? Is it perhaps just an old man
boasting? Until we hear from the girls involved we won’t really know –
and as I understand it a court case is coming up where these girls will
be called to testify. Now that will be fascinating.
&&&& The more I read and hear about Berlusconi, the more
convinced I am that he really is half a bubble off plumb. No different
to so many of our world leaders, including here in the UK over recent
&&&& We truly are ruled over by mad men.
Anyway, back to Berlusconi and his “I’m pleased with the way I manage to
resist the challenge of life”, which I take to mean resisting the
inevitability of advancing old age. Here’s another quote, said in a
slightly different context, which balances all the delightful nonsense
above rather well...
“When you’re earning a very high salary, most
things are possible.” Nicola “Superwoman” Horlick, 50, British
investment fund manager and mother of six children, reveals the secret
of her success.
&&&& Horlick wrote a book at bedtime called Can you have it
all?. I guess Silvio Berlusconi would say: “Eight out of eleven –
that’s definitely a pass mark.” But was he cheating? Time will tell.
Monday, September 19
Every egg a bird, every bird a Winner
“IT’S TRUE that not many people get married in
tartan pyjama bottoms, but then not many wait 50 years to get married.”
Michael Winner, 75, a British film director and producer, also known as
a food critic for The Sunday Times, on his wedding attire,
confirming that at 75 you can wear whatever you feel most comfortable in
without worrying about what the slebs next-door think.
Just after five this morning, Vanessa Feltz reminded us that Michael
Winner was tying the knot today – for the first time – at the grand age
of 75, marrying Geraldine Lynton-Edwards, 70. But what exactly was he
having for his wedding breakfast?
&&&& Apparently, he had described it thus: “I’ve bought the
cake and we’ll be having that beef dish that comes in strips with rice –
what do you call it?”. Vanessa was stumped, so she invited her listeners
to come up with the answer, and in they flooded: chow mein?, chili
beef?, beef stroganoff?, beef teriyaki?, goulash?
&&&& And then Mike-the-Milk from Bury St Edmunds contacted
the show and got it absolutely right: “Probably,” he said, “Winalot.”
&&&& For those outside the United Kingdom, Winalot is
a popular brand of dog food. So I couldn’t resist sending this letter to
Michael’s missives, the letters section of Winner’s column in The
Sunday Times – or perhaps it should now be known as Michael’s
mrsives. Whatever...
Listening to the excellent Vanessa Feltz on her Wireless 2 early-morning
show last Monday (she never talks over the music – bliss), she wondered
aloud what your wedding feast of “that beef dish that comes in strips
with rice” was.
&&&& Mike-the-Milk from Bury St Edmunds suggested Winalot. I
can see you now, stretched out on the rug in front of a roaring fire
having cleared your bowl: “Who’s a good boy, then?” Suddenly you double
up to freshen up your more private parts ... it’s an image that is
already burnt onto my mind’s hard drive.
HB, Llandampness
Incidentally, I Googled “beef dish that comes in strips with rice” –
– Kicky Steak Strips with Rice: top sirloin steak, cut into thin strips
and served with long-grain white rice – plus lots of other little
ingredients, obviously.
&&&& Wonderful thing the internet. And I was surprised that
no one had suggested Kicky Steak Strips with Rice - smashing name - to
Vanessa. However, following this morning’s marriage, I rather liked this Mail
Online headline – shades of Winalot...
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
After 55 years, I’ve made her a Winner at last!
Elder statesman
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
of British bachelors finally ties the knot
Only Michael Caine and his wife Shakira accompanied the happy
pair at the ceremony itself – and there was much relief that the
groom had not carried out his threat to turn up in those pyjama
&&&& A celebratory feast had actually taken place the day
before at the Caines’ Surrey home.
&&&& A handful of close friends including broadcaster Sir
David Frost, the Lloyd Webbers, singer Chris Rea, and
photographer Terry O’Neill had gathered there to toast the happy
couple over a lunch of beef Wellington and crème caramel.
&&&& Obviously Winner is rather partial to shouting “Where’s
the beef?”. Which doesn’t come as a surprise because I read in
the Independent that he has an eye for the main course –
or the intercourse as some would say - as he has had more than 130
lovers and admits to being unfaithful to them all.
&&&& But what I liked was the gathering the day before the
The happy couple - let's hope
Michael is not
&keeping an eye open for number 131 already
wedding. Such a civilised way of doing things.
&&&& After all, most speeches at weddings are somewhat
yawn-yawn. I attended a wedding once where there were no speeches at all
at the reception, both families having gathered at a local hotel a few
nights before for a meal plus all the speeches that needed to be done.
So 10 out of 10 there.
&&&& Anyway, back with the Winners. I presume someone at
that gathering would have said this story...
On the night Michael decided it was time to ditch his dedicated bachelor
life and calm down, he asked Geraldine for her hand in marriage. She was
delighted and responds: “Let’s celebrate. Would you like to go upstairs
and make love?”
&&&& Michael replies: “Yes of course – but I can’t do both.”
Finally, I rather liked this online comment from
Town: How refreshing!
A wealthy, mature gentleman marrying someone of his own generation.
Sunday, September 18
Epic encounter of the bearded kind
04:30 ~ WATCHED Wales play Samoa live in the Rugby World Cup out in New
Zealand: having narrowly lost against South Africa last Sunday, today’s
game was a true knock- a loss and Wales would be out of the
competition.
&&&& Worryingly, Samoa has a track record of trampling all
over Welsh dreams. Wales just about sneaked a win – not a particularly
inspiring game of rugby, but a hard, physical contest where the result
was everything.
&&&& As is increasingly the case in modern games, a hugely
entertaining aspect of the experience is the crowd. Incidentally, why do
television people insist on showing specific crowd scenes on the big
&&&& Those catching themselves on the screen react like
children, even during the anthems – and worst, over the weekend during a
minute’s silence in memory of a local tragedy. When will TV directors
appreciate that observing those who don’t know they are being observed
is infinitely more entertaining than watching those watching themselves.
&&&& Anyway, back to the crowd: the face decoration and
fancy dress now worn by supporters is a revelation and very smiley.
Also, the witty banners on display. I rather liked the Samoan
group holding up this banner before the game got under way:
&&&&&&&&& Corned
beef for breakfast ... Wales for lunch!
Always dangerous that because it tempts someone like me, when
the result is known, to add: Humble pie for supper.
Later I watched France take on the Canadians. As usual in these
games, where the so-called minnows tackle the giants, the first
half is invariably competitive and close – but in the second
half the big guns tend to run away with it, as France did.
&&&& However, three of the Canadian players have becomes
firm favourites with the crowds, as well as the media, and all
down to those magnificent men and their flowing beards. The sort
of beards normally spotted on older men rather than fit, young
athletic blokes.
&&&& But as I say, they have been all over the papers and
social media. And you have to admit, when you look at the
picture, alongside, it is a most eye-catching image.
&&&& This photograph of flanker Adam Kleeberger, voted
man-of-the-match in their opening game against Tonga, captured
here passing the ball off the top of the lineout to his
scrum-half.
&&&& Given what a rough and tumble game rugby is, this image
captures such a balletic pose, especially so featuring that epic
beard of his.
Grizzly Adam: 27-year-old’s whiskers
a highlight of Rugby World Cup 2011
Adam Kleeberger, according to those who understand these things, has
evolved from average-looking flanker to bearded back-row star, looking
a lumberjack with an axe to grind – spot the difference...
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
...amazing. Kleeberger lit up social media sites after inspiring
Canada’s opening win over Tonga, one of the three men in the starting
team with so-called “beardos”. Kleeberger has threatened to shave off
his much-loved trademark beard: “I miss my face.” One less
generous observer added: “Kleeberger is 27, but his beard looks a bit
&&&& But this I liked best ... Kleeberger admitted that
opponents were sometimes tempted to grab his bushy beard: “It happens
every now and again, but at the end of the day, only girls pull hair,
And talking of girls, one of the more memorable screen images spotted
during the Canada-France game was that of what seemed like an attractive
girl – but wearing a full beard à la Kleeberger. It was such an amusing
thing to see. I’ve had a good look online, thinking that a photographer
at the ground must have captured her – but so far no luck.
Saturday, September 17
Pinocchio visits the doctor
FLICKING through last weekend’s Sunday Times&
Magazine before putting it into the recycle pile, I stumbled
upon a new feature: Caption challenge.
Each week the magazine presents us with a cartoon in need of a
witty one-liner, and we readers are invited to submit our
efforts. What caught my eye was last Sunday’s winner, the
cartoon pictured, alongside.
The winning line, from Oliver Lloyd of Cardiff, has the doctor
saying: “Well, technically, you require
a tree surgeon.”
Which certainly made me smile – but I was instantly overwhelmed
with the need for an extra line: “Well, technically, you
require a tree surgeon – but whether he believes a word you tell
him is another matter.”
of the times
SPOTTED this witticism pinned to a pub notice board ... actually, it was
in Welsh, but it translates perfectly...
&&&& “I once read that drinking
beer is bad for me, so I gave up reading.”
Out of curiosity, I Googled it ... and found it was coined by
Henry “Henny” Youngman (), a British-born American comedian and
violinist, famous for his “one-liners” - see above!
His best known one-liner was “Take my wife - please”.
Williams driven up the Walliams
“David Walliams is drinking sewage for charity
because he’s fed up looking like just another typing error.”
Reported remark by Billy Connolly on his fellow comedian’s epic 140-mile
swim along the length of the non tidal section of the River Thames.
&&&& Very smiley remark. Astonishingly, Walliams, 40, is
close to raising ?1million for Sport Relief as a result of his effort –
so I suspect he will forgive his mother for calling him “the nation’s
sweetheart”.
&&&& Bless, what would we do without our mums as our spin
Friday, September 16
Arise, bright and early
ROY NOBLE, who presents a weekday afternoon show on Radio Wales,
recently returned from holiday – northern Europe if memory serves – and
he told a memorable little tale. I may well be paraphrasing the
detail, but the crux of the story is correct.
&&&& When he and his wife arrived at their first port of
call he handed over his passport to a customs officer, as you do.
Everything was fine, but as the customs man handed him back his passport
he said: “Thank you, Mr O I trust you enjoy your stay in our
country.”
&&&& Roy was overtaken by a slight moment of panic. Mr Obi?
All sorts of things raced through his mind. Had the customs man somehow
or other picked up someone else’s passport and hadn’t noticed the error?
Surely not.
&&&& As Roy walked away he hurriedly inspected his passport
... and smiled...
Here in Wales, Roy is well known for the sterling work he does for charity and good
causes, and he was duly awarded the OBE in recognition of his efforts,
something of which he is rightly proud. When his passport came up for
renewal, he entered his name as MR ROY NOBLE OBE...
&&&& Yes, you’re ahead of the game. The customs officer, unfamiliar with the UK’s order of chivalry and decoration, had naturally
presumed that OBE was his surname.
&&&& So for the duration of his current passport, that is a
ritual he will have to go through, with fingers quietly crossed behind
&&&& Now isn’t it astonishing how something so innocent can
turn into a potential ambush.
The above story came to mind when I saw that Henry Winkler,
who played the Fonz in the classic US sitcom Happy Days, has
been appointed an honorary OBE for his educational work on
dyslexia in the UK.
&&&& Winkler, pictured alongside, received the honour at the
British embassy in Washington DC.
&&&& The actor-turned-children’s author, who was diagnosed
with dyslexia as an adult, said he was “overwhelmed” to have his
work recognised.
&&&& In the past two years, he has toured schools in the UK,
talking about the learning disability.
&&&& In fact I have heard him speak about his work on the
radio – and he is exceedingly good value for his award.
&&&& This is what an honours system should be about, not
dreadful people who have made such a mess of this country,
strutting about their little kingdoms bearing the titles of
Henry Winkler, clearly delighted with his OBE
barons, knights and dames. Yuk.
So well done Roy Noble and Harry Winkler, you thoroughly deserve your
PS: Yesterday I mentioned the tale of rogue trader Kweku Adoboli, who
has cost Swiss bank UBS an estimated $2 billion (?1.3 billion), and has
now been charged with fraud and false accounting.
&&&& It turns out that he is (was?) a senior trader with
Global Synthetic Equity, part of UBS. Global Synthetic Equity? If ever a
name was destined to ride into an ambush, it has to be Global Synthetic
Thursday, September 15
If you want to make God smile – tell him your plans
HEADLINE of the week thus far, spotted in the Telegraph...
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Dahl and the giant cheek – asking us to save his shed
If the Dahl
family wants to preserve the hut where so many great stories were
written, let them find the cash.
When the Today programme introduced an item yesterday with news that
James and the Giant Peach was first published 50 years ago, I expected
to hear some jolly probing of Roald Dahl’s strange and dark imagination.
&&&& Instead, the author’s granddaughter popped up, the
model and author Sophie Dahl. She was appealing for money to save his
writing hut. She wants half a million quid, which is a staggering sum
for fixing up a prefab shed that happened to belong to a writer.
Perhaps the prefab shed should be rechristened Prefab Sprouts. But what a wonderfully doolally story
it is. I shouldn’t imagine the Dahl
family are short of a bob or two, but what the hell, never give a sucker
an even break.
&&&& Personally, I think it’s the ghost of Dahl himself
having a laugh. What was it Willy Wonka said?
“A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men.”
No more bets, please
Just to add to the doolallyness of the day, news broke that Kweku
Adoboli, 31, has been arrested on suspicion of fraud and abuse of
position* in connection with rogue trading that has
cost Swiss bank UBS an estimated $2 billion (?1.3 billion).
&&&& He has since been charged with fraud and false
accounting. It’s unbelievable that this sort of thing is possible
after all the previous problems the banks have encountered, including
dodgy dealers by the score, although I lost track of the score.
&&&& How can any business have an employee dabbling with
?1.3 billion of its money without any of the management having any idea what was
going on? It really is Monopoly money.
&&&& More intriguing, someone, somewhere, is ?1.3 billion in
pocket. Even more curious, when these traders make vast profits for the
banks, which we hear nothing about, who the hell is loosing all that
money? And why don’t we hear about that?
&&&& To add to the irony of it all, the loss uncovered by UBS is almost exactly the same
amount the bank was trying to save by cutting 3,500 jobs from its
worldwide empire.
&&&& Oh yes, before the rogue trader was arrested, it seems
Adoboli had changed his status on his Facebook page to: “I need a
miracle.”
&&&& Which completes the circle apropos the headline at the
very top ...
If you want to make God smile – tell him your plans (a folk proverb
famously revisited by Woody Allen).
&&&& I guess if you want to make God die
laughing - ask him what he thinks you
should do next.&
* Arrested on suspicion of abuse of position, eh? Any chance of arresting
Tony Blair, Gordon Brown, Rupert Murdoch, Fred ‘The Shred’ Goodwin, Tony
Hayward, the boss of BP who went sailing while the company was burning...&
Wednesday, September 14
“Look Watch for me by moonlight...”
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& Alfred Noyes
LAST Monday morning I set off on my walk in a howling gale. Yesterday
morning was much quieter and rather pleasant. This morning, around six,
it was as perfect a dawn as you could ever wish – the odd fluffy horizon
cloud – and there, in all its glory, hung a full moon. Well, I say a
full moon, that actually happened on Monday, hidden behind the storm
clouds, but I wasn’t complaining. I stood and stared.
&&&& I reckon I haven’t seen a proper moon for the past
couple of months. It isn’t that we’ve had lots of rain, at least in
these ‘ere parts, but it has been continuously overcast with light rain
or drizzle and brief bursts of heavier rain. Just a miserable two
months, really, very un-summerish.
&&&& So it was rather wonderful to have a clear sky to view
the moon. Also, the wind had died away following that brush with the
tail of hurricane Katia at the beginning of the week. The view along the
Towy Valley, just before sunrise, was magical.
&&&& The sky a gentle tint of pink along the horizon, the
moon hanging in a clear blue sky, and a gentle mist in the valley. I
attempted to photograph it...
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
...trouble was, if I wanted a reasonably sharp image of the moon, the
valley appeared unnaturally dark. If I lightened the valley, the moon
lost its sharpness, at least using my basic little camera. At that
moment I envied the talents of a painter, who would have been able to
capture the scene just as the eye saw it...
Sometime later I was browsing the Telegraph’s& Picture
Galleries, as I do, and by one of those wonderful coincidences that
regularly light up my life, I came across a Gallery headed ‘Painter
of moonlight’ – and here’s the first of many on view...&
Reflections on the Thames, Westminster, 1880
Now I am not a particular fan of painters and their work, but just like
photographs, I am attracted to certain types of images – and I thought
the above was truly striking. Totally wonderful, just like the other 13
paintings on view.
&&&& The blurb on the Telegraph Gallery said this...
On 19 September a major new exhibition,
Atkinson Grimshaw: Painter of Moonlight, opens at the Guildhall Art
Gallery and Roman Amphitheatre in London.
&&&& Over the last 40 years, Atkinson Grimshaw’s beautiful
and evocative paintings of moonlit suburban lanes, gas-lit city streets
and docksides have emerged as some of the most popular works of the
Victorian age.
&&&& This exhibition is the first major show of the
self-taught Leeds-born artist’s work for over 30 years.
If you fancy taking a look at these remarkable and imaginative paintings
online, enter ‘Atkinson Grimshaw: Painter of Moonlight at the Guildhall
Art Gallery in London’ into Google ... click on the Telegraph&
link – and enjoy this man’s eye-catching talent.
I found it a truly smiley experience. And I found myself wondering what
John Atkinson Grimshaw () would have made of the fact that, 118
years after his death, a Nogood Boyo in West Wales would be praising his
artistry on some new-fangled thingumabob called the internet.
Tuesday, September 13
Off on a pun run
PUN, insists Anonymous, is a short quip followed by a long groan. So...
“In the words of John Lennon, all we are saying
is give fleece a chance. Where there’s wool, there’s a way.”
Publisher Conde Nast’s& Nicholas Coleridge, deputy chairman of Prince
Charles’s Campaign for Wool, resorts to punning to promote the cause.
Oh what a tangled yarn we weave...
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& &&&&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& &&&
“Stop pulling the wool over my
“Hanging is too good for
he should be drawn and quoted.” Fred Allen (), American
Sidestepping puns for a moment, I particularly enjoyed this Fred Allen
quote, which I have slightly paraphrased...
“During the Winston Churchill days they had big men
today we have small men enjoying big talk.”
&&&& Allen actually mentioned Samuel Johnson, but I couldn’t
resist the opportunity to juxtapose Churchill, Blair, Brown and Cameron.
Back on the pun run, I really like this one, again from Anonymous:
“I’m an incorrigible punster. Do not incorrige
That is very clever. And talking of clever...
“My crumpeteering days are long gone,
unfortunately, although I will mention to you confidentially that I am
good in bed. I don’t snore, I stay on my side of the bed and I don’t
take the duvet.” Len Goodman, 67, a British professional ballroom
dancer and a judge on television’s Strictly Come Dancing.
&&&& That is so witty. It’s a short story: starts with a bit
of reminiscing – then some boasting, and you fear the worst – and
finally that hilarious twist in the tail.
&&&& My quote of the year thus far – and a perfect smile to
round off my brief but enjoyable pun run.
Monday, September 12
“Please do not shoot the pianist. He is doing his best.”
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Oscar Wilde
DEPARTED the cottage this morning in a gale, but the lashing rain had
passed through earlier, thankfully, otherwise I’d have been grounded.
&&&& Over the weekend the headlines had warned...
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Hurricane Katia heads for the
Whenever I
hear of a storm heading for my square mile, I’m reminded of that “silly”
woman back in 1987 who enquired of the BBC about some hurricane or other
coming our way.
&&&& Weatherman Michael Fish became infamous in the wake of
the ‘Great Storm of 1987’; a few hours before the storm broke, on 15
October 1987, he said during a television forecast:
“Earlier on today, apparently, a woman rang the
BBC and said she heard there was a
well, if you’re
watching, don’t worry, there isn’t!”
&&&& That evening, the worst storm to hit Southern England
since 1703 caused record damage and killed 18 people. Of course, that
forecast then turned him into a Fish in a goldfish bowl, his “D’oh!”
moment destined to follow him around for ever more and a weather
forecast, although truth to tell he doesn’t seem to have suffered unduly
because of it.
&&&& Of course it should be noted that after his “don’t
worry, be happy” piece to camera, he did add: “But
having said that, actually, the weather will become very windy, but most
of the strong winds, incidentally, will be down over Spain and across
into France.”
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Double D’oh!
Astonishingly, at the beginning of August just gone, the papers carried
headlines such as this...
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Bill Giles: blame me not
Michael Fish for great storm blunder
For more than 20 years
Michael Fish, the veteran BBC weather forecaster, has been ridiculed as
the man who nonchalantly dismissed the Great Storm of 1987.
So Bill Giles, the senior weather forecaster on duty at that time,
admitted it was he who was the author of the denial, but Fish was the
messenger. And what do we know about messengers? Yup, they are the ones
who get shot.
&&&& Talk about a bit of bad luck. Imagine, if that one
rogue message had never reached Bill Giles, how much more agreeable
Michael Fish’s walk through time and changeable weather would have been.
But as I say, he doesn’t appear to have allowed the incident to form a
depression above his head.
&&&& Mind you, these days all sorts of people e-mail, text
and tweet the
much to our entertainment, the
famous (e.g. Stephen Fry) and the self-important (e.g. Lord Sugar), dive
straight into the shark pool marked ‘Fish’ and respond with the
doolalliest of things. Thank God.
&&&& On reflection, Anita Hart, the lady who queried the
hurricane in the first place, was not being silly at all.
Incidentally, the incident is well served on YouTube, still
drawing hits, and on the most viewed site I couldn’t help but notice the
most ‘liked’ comment. Now normally I detest obscene language, especially
where it is used just for the sake of it. But just occasionally – look
away now if you don’t want to know how many asterisks should be present
and correct here...
&&&& Kingofpunk1977: Fish you
cunt. My fence fell down.
Oh dear, a spell on the naughty step for me because that made me laugh
out loud: short and to the point and rather funny.
You say tasty, I say ugh!
ON HER early
morning radio show, Vanessa Feltz mentioned that the famous
HP Sauce would not in future taste
the same because makers Heinz had secretly changed the recipe after 116
years (now less added salt), but fans of the sauce had noticed
immediately and are furiously sticking their many varieties of tongues
out at Heinz.
&&&& So Vanessa invited listeners to contact her and list
the things that no longer taste as good as they did in the past. The
list was endless, overflowing with the usual suspects: apples, pears –
you say tomatoes, I say potatoes – milk, grapes, bread and on and on ...
over to Vanessa: “'Humble pie,' says Anonymous,
'doesn’t taste like it used to.' Oh yes it does. If you are forced to
taste humble pie you will find that it tastes exactly as it used to and
hasn’t changed at all.”
&&& “Oh yes it has,” I found myself
shouting at the iPlayer. Well, I didn’t shout, I just thought it. Allow
me to take you back to Rupert Murdoch’s memorable slice of pie:
“This is the most humble day of my life!”
&&&& Right, did he a) tuck into humble pie because he was
truly sorry? Or b) did he utter it because one of his spin doctors said:
“Look Rupert, wear your humble pie on your sleeve and many millions of
gullible people out there will buy into it as free-range humble pie and
forgive you instantly.”?
&&&& So you pays your money and takes your choice. Just
remember, Private Eye christened Rupert Murdoch ‘Dirty Digger’ back in
1969 – and as far as I am aware, the human genetic default position
doesn’t change over time (a leopard never changes its spots, etc, etc).
&&&& In conclusion, I reckon humble pie definitely doesn’t
taste like it used to. Even when delivered following a hurricane.
Sunday, September 11
Reasons to be cheerful anyway
TWO things could have made my ‘Smile of the day’ today. Wales winning
against South Africa in Rugby World Cup out in New Zealand – but the
same old song, I’m afraid: so near, yet so fa la te do ...
&&&& Secondly, having a picture in next year’s Countryfile
calendar would certainly have generated a wide smile. Although I
submitted some eye-catching pictures of the friendly little valley songbirds
perched in my hand, they obviously didn’t impress the judges. And
anyway, I appreciate that I am not what they call a technically
proficient photographer – I just point and click.
&&&& Whatever, I knew I hadn’t come anywhere near because I
never heard a dicky-bird prior to tonight’s announcement. Never mind.
I’ll have to exhibit them somewhere hereabouts. Indeed a pal
suggests I should design my own calendar using the unusual pictures I’ve captured over recent years. I may well have a go at that
one of these days.
Should be a laugh.
So proper smile time. A couple of weeks back the following letter
appeared in The Sunday Times& In Gear section, a sort
of magazine which dabbles in “cars,
gadgets and adventure”.
The only way is send-up
My family has been happily entertained by the endless possibilities of
names for new editions or trim levels of the Volkswagen Up!
(“VW brings pootling to the people”, Car of the week, last week). The
Smash Up!,
followed by the Shut Up!,
Bottoms Up!,
Throw Up!,
and Time’s Up!
There are many more, of course.
Has VW really thought the designation through or have we fallen into the
trap? It’s certainly a memorable name.
Jane Holmes, Wells, Somerset
I never read the original article, but I enjoyed the above letter. So
much so I couldn’t resist submitting my own effort...
behind you!
I was intrigued by the possibilities of names for new editions of the
Volkswagen Up!
(Letters, “The only way is send-up”, last week). Presumably the world’s
natural-born tailgaters will go for the Volkswagen Up Yours!
HB, Llandampness
didn’t make the cut – in fact there haven’t been any letters published
for a couple of weeks – but I wouldn’t complain anyway because I had a
letter published the week before the above letter from Jane Holmes.
&&&& Remember when a
BBC insider claimed that 80% of the daredevil driving scenes filmed by
Top Gear presenter Jeremy Clarkson are actually carried out by
professional racers, with the footage then cleverly edited? A claim
rejected by Clarkson, incidentally. I did a ‘Smiley’ feature on the
episode back
on August 15.
&&&& Anyway, I submitted a tongue-in-cheek letter to The
Sunday Times& because Clarkson pens a weekly motoring column
for the paper – and fair play, they printed it as their lead letter...
Seeing is believing
It was good to see Jeremy standing next to the
BAC Mono (Clarkson, last week), because he is hardly ever pictured in,
or alongside, the car he road-tests. For one horrible moment I thought
that as middle age creeps towards old age, Jeremy does all his driving
in a simulator these days. Phew.
HB, Llandampness
While on the subject of Top Gear and Jeremy Clarkson, not
forgetting his
co-presenter on the show, wee Richard Hammond, the Crazy Horsepower’s Chief Wise Old
handed me this Times& letter a good few weeks back. I knew it would
eventually find a perfect home...
Top wedding gear
Sir, The church wedding se