Mr William Paints The Town Red!

Image via Wikipedia

A Thoughtful, yet joyful Thursday, to you, dear Reader,

Yes, today, I have been reminiscing about a great day, as Remembrance Sunday approaches. More about that later. You see, as you have probably realised, I am more of a 'Toad of Toad Hall' kinda guy than Mr. Dull Ditchwater. I love to paint the town red, and now I can. Two good reasons for this--firstly, my walking stick turned up. Turns out I left it at the supermarket till. I find that 'time and tills wait for no man'! Every time I get to a pay-desk, I feel pressured and flustered.
No-one moves at my sedate(or should that be 'sedated') pace anymore. So, it's always a kaffuffle and I drop my money and all that. Everyone's nice about it, but I keep thinking I am keeping busy younger people back and they might mutter,'Silly ol' duffer'. Anyway, as per, I walked away from the till carrying my purchases, bundles of receipts and discount offers ( What are they about? You need to have even less of a life than mine to keep track of all the discounts. I end up missing the expiry dates!), also my change, my wallet and the aforementioned stick.
When I stopped to get organised, I leaned the stick against two mountainous stacks of biscuit tins. They started to wobble, then I started to wobble and before I knew where I was an assistant was steadying the tins and guiding me to the door. Neither of us noticed the bally stick. Anyway, I have it back now and I have warned it of the dire consequences of straying in future!
The second big plus, that will help my freedom is the arrival of my hearing aids. When I say arrival, I mean I had to go get them from the private 'earman' at 'Hear Today, gone Tomorrow'. (Just my little joke. His firm has a much more mundane name. I have 'sexed' it up as I enjoy a bit of poetic license on a Thursday!) Being a private outfit, the money was uppermost in his mind, and , being honest it was exercising mine as well. After all, £1000 is a heap of dosh. So, I started to think I would ask him to put the items where the sun 'don't shine', as I had only paid a small deposit. There we were, face to face; I made my plea for him to hold on to the aids 'for a while'. He then played a trick on me and we both know he did, but neither said. I had just told him that my hearing was adequate for an ol' codger like me. He suddenly started mumbling under his breath and all I could make out was'Blah, blah,..tight ol' git..'. He asked if I could repeat what he had said, and he was still mumbling. I said' 'Eh?' he said, 'Mr. Peeps, your hearing is not great. I was just saying that they would be a great fit!' Anyway, I tried them on and it was miraculous. I have been able to hear everything since. People sound like they are shouting! At least the neighbours will be glad as I can turn down my telly volume. I wondered what that faint banging on the wall was.Thought we had woodpeckers!
Anyway, life is looking up, although the 'earman' seemed amused to inform me that my ears do not 'conform to EU Standards' and that made them more expensive! Never mind, I have never been a conformist! He also told me that there would be a warning signal when the batteries got low. Fine, as long as it's not as loud as 'Big Ben'. Wonder if I have any other body parts that don't conform to EU Standards? The mind boggles, well mine certainly does.
Well, I'm back in business. I'm mobile and can hear everything. I have my red 'parp,parp' Toad of Toad Hall car. The world and all the eligible ladies are my lobster. I'll maybe take you through my eligibility checklist one day soon. Just got to get the red paint off my face. Yes, I was painting some garden furniture, my mobile phone rang and I jumped, firstly because it was in my pocket and secondly because no-one normally rings. The paint went all over me and I looked for all the world like Chief Sitting Bull on an off day. Turned out, it was the mobile phone company asking me how I was getting on with the new phone. I said, 'Your salesman told me it was foolproof. So, tell me this, why can I not get the bally thing to work?' Well, he had no answer for that!
Yes, all this stuff about painting the town red reminded me of the best 'red letter day' in the world and in one of the world's greatest cities at a euphoric time. It was 1945 and I was in London with my sister. We both were in our military uniforms and it was just after VE day. London was still full of people celebrating. I was  just walking past Buckingham Palace and was talking away to my sister, when I heard an almighty clatter of boots on the cobblestones. It was like thunder! My sister told me to look round and to my eternal joy and astonishment, every guardsman outside the palace was saluting me. It's always been the way. You salute the uniform. I returned the salute and walked off without giving into the temptation to yelp and click my heels like Charlie Chaplin. It felt like my Queen and country had honoured me. It was just marvellous. I'll remind the 'new' queen of this when she comes to give me my card when I reach 100!
So, there you are. I have a little tear and a sigh welling up now, but I'm off out soon to have a great day. I hope you do the same. Life is for living to the full!
Yours proudly but ever so slightly red-faced

The blogging Gogfather!

Mr William really takes the 'Biscuit'?

 

Magnificent Monday to you, dear reader,

As usual, I have a confession to make this morning, as I sit here in my little peaceful living room. I'm afraid the balloon has gone up. No, I don't mean Celine Dion just before the twins were delivered in Palm Beach. Mind you, I have heard of 'birthing pools', but on the beach, that's taking it a bit far, even for a celeb! Also, I don't mean the news that Tony Blair's sister-in-law has become a muslim. I think every one has a perfect right to choose their religion, but don't you think it would have given Tone another PR nightmare, when he was pursuing his 'war against terror'. (Especially as his spin doctor told us at the time that Tone's government didn't 'do God'!)

Furthermore, the balloon does not refer to the bold Ann 'Widdybottom' MP, although she did fly through the air with the greatest of ease at the weekend, to the delight of the public (What do we know about fancy footwork? We leave that to MPs and bankers!) No, Ann has the 'John Sergeant Factor'. It's like the 'X Factor' but with even less perceptible talent. What do Ann and John have in common? Both immensely likeable and popular with us unwashed masses (Speak for myself there, should I?) and also in common, they have a lifelong interest in the 'Commons'; and, of course, they can't dance for toffee, or as Craig 'Revile' Horwood would say, 'They are both a disaaaaster, daarrling!' Strictly speaking, they should have avoided 'Strictly'!
Back eventually to my 'balloon going up. Well, it involves my brushes with presidents and royalty--and no, I wasn't anywhere near a grassy knoll in Dallas in 1963. That's my story and unlike my walking stick, I'm sticking to it. Yes, I've lost another one. My pain in the neck son-in-law keeps asking how I could lose something I was leaning on. He insists on bringing logic and facts into everything. He has a lot to learn! I've solved the problem anyway; I am getting a homing device fitted to the next one. (Would that be a pigeon on a piece of string? I don't know.) Anyway for those who might say I have diffs getting to the point, here goes. I think I might have taken President Clinton's 'biscuit'! Yes, some may be shocked. Some will think I have gone all 'Monica Lewinsky'. Some will say, 'What are you raving about this time, Mr William?'

Well, it has me worried. You see it has emerged that President Bill lost the launch code card for a few weeks during his presidency. You know, the ones to set off nuclear missiles? Well, they call that the 'biscuit'! I always thought that was a red phone, but I'm obviously still out in the 'Cold War' era re technology. I can't help it if I'm not Bill Gates. I have a mobile phone but I can't use it, and that, dear reader, is why the world was not blown to smithereens at that time.
It was like this. I was innocently sitting minding my own business in a lapdancing club, opposite the White House, round about the time in question. Well, the rest is a hazy memory and my lawyer tells me it should remain that way. I, obviously wandered in by mistake, after accidentally consuming too many sherbits and was simply admiring the scenery, when I noticed something shiny on the floor. Two miracles had just occurred, one was me taking my eyes off the dancer(Well, you don't like to be rude!) and the other was that my eyes had crossed and glazed over.
 Well, I lifted the card and assumed that the young lady wanted to have me ring her later for a bite of supper and was so shy she did the old trick of dropping her card for me to lift. Thing is, later in the cab to my hotel, I tried to ring the numbers, but my fingers kept fluffing the keys. So, I just chucked the card out the window in frustration. My lawyer, who has just had a mild seizure tells me that I should point out that it may not have been the 'biscuit', but the whole experience 'took the biscuit' for me!
Hpoefully none of this will affect my knighthood chances or the message from the Queen at my century. I did worry, though, when she didn't call in and have tea with me last week on her visit to Northern Ireland. I had the tea and custard creams  ready. Maybe she had heard the rumours and didn't want another 'biscuit' incident!
Yours vaguely but always taking the biscuit

The blogging Gogfather!

Mr William is seeing things through rose-tinted lenses?

Tremulous Thursday to you, dear reader,

 I take it you have been keeping up with the financial meltdown in the UK news. In case you haven't, well, I'll explain it to you. You see, loads of greedy rich people around the world went back to the ol' feeding trough once too often, aided and abetted by mad,bad bankers and now governments are making the poor and vulnerable even more poor and vulnerable. If you think that is too simplistic, then watch this space, I do a good line in simplistic-thing is, I think I am seeing things clearly and not through rose-tinted lenses. You see, I reckon that the wolf is at the door for the less fortunate in society, while the rich are still wheeling their ill-gotten gains to the compliant arms of the bankers.

Rant over for today. Talking about lenses, I love photography and seeing beautiful things. The unfortunate misunderstanding at the duck pond has taught me to be circumcised, though. You recall perhaps that I was attempting to get a shot of a fine pair of great tits( now that's all in your mind. I'm taking about a mating pair of crested birds--I give up-this is innuendo city, no matter what I say) and suddenly a young lady passed by and spotted me behind the bushes. She assumed, for some strange reason that I had designs on her form and decided to launch at me with her umbrella and words I have never seen in the bible! Had to show her my polaroids to establish my credentials as a twitcher. (Again any double entendre in your own head!)

Talking about words in the Bible, did I tell you about my other unfortunate incident, when I had to read out a verse at a church meeting recently. The vicar asked us all to prepare to read one verse each in turn. I was so nervous I put my perspiring thumb over the appropriate passage, in case I would fluff it at the crucial moment. Imagine my horror when it came to my turn and I lifted my thumb to find I had obliterated the verse. Everyone laughed at my antics. It broke the tension, but the rev. got me nervous by quoting some verse about the dangers of any unwary soul who would try to delete Holy Scripture. Everyone fell in to fits of laughter again, but I spent the rest of the day watching over my shoulder for thunderbolts!

Anyway, I love cameras, but I keep losing them. Went to a wedding in Morocco and lost my camera. I often have this vision of a bedouin on a camel looking at my family jewels, as I call my photos, and wondering who all those strange pasty face people are. What he makes of the 'great tits', I can't imagine! Then there was the camera I blew up in Geneva. I was charging up the batteries, but got mixed up with the voltage and ended up with a knackered camera and the batteries were last sighted by a skier over Mont Blanc!

You see, the thing is, I lose things and then find them under my nose. My son-in-law (You know, the smart alec who says this diary would flop without his so-called 'input'?) he says that I panic when I think I have lost something important. He may be a pain in the butt, but he has a point. I tend to send out a search party to Bulawayo and other foreign parts and then start working my way back to base, where, of course, the item has been all the while. My housekeeper is the one who normally finds the bally things. She comes in, I give her a typed list of the things I have mislaid and 5 minutes later she hands them to me, with the list neatly ticked off--then she proceeds to tick me off for worrying unnecessarily. If only it was that easy.

Well, I can't sit around scribbling any more, 'cos the sun has come out and I have put on my rose-tinted specs and intend going to the duck-pond to take some classy shots of some delightful birds. Thing that is holding me back, is that I can't find the bloomin' camera. Have you any idea where it is? Should I put out an APB via the FBI? Wish me luck!
Yours focused but a little lost

The blogging Gogfather

Mr William feels he gives everyone a fair 'Hearing'!

Image by Rescate Mineros via Flickr

Thunderingly great Thursday to you, dear Reader,

The miners are free and the human spirit is in it's zenith. What a glorious day to be part of  humanity, even though I am well into the autumn of my life. I would even say I experience the odd winter day, but my buoyant zest for life, my faith in God, my infamous curiosity(Yes, Big Brother isn't the only one watching you. In my case, though, I am very benign!) all mean that I keep drinking from the fountain of youth. Although, inevitably, the youth will want his or her fountain back, which is what I wanted to talk to you about.

Yes, my hearing is not what it was. My daughter thought it was purely 'selective' in nature, and my dear late wife certainly did. Seems, however, that yours truly can only hear vowels and not consonants. That's what the consultant said.(Wouldn't be great if you were the Carol Vorderman type in dictionary corner. Eaiou!)  Yeh, the hearing doc made me listen to sounds only dogs could hear and then charged me £1000 for a couple of bits of clever plastic in my aural crevices( again, not an innuendo, but it would be a good one, don't you think?) The only bit I heard was the price and then I choked a little! He seemed to hear my reply very clearly and winced visibly. I had to cough up in the end. How can I eavesdrop on you all, if I can only hear vowels? It's the consonants that make it interesting!

Thing is that health problems come along and, although I am in the rudest of health for a man of 86, with some of my marbles and many of my parts in reasonable working order, there is still the odd sign of wear and tear--some of the signs odder than you might think. You see, I am presently avoiding my doc, a certain or should I say certifiable, Dr. Ima Gunna-Killyall, who told me, with a straight face(She doesn't do humour!) that I should be grateful for every morning I wake up. Told her I was and intended to reach 100 and get my message from the Queen. She asked if I knew a good 'medium'! Everyone's a critic!

Talking of my parts, I had a bit of a gaffufle this week. It was during a long car journey with my daughter and her hubbie ( The smart alec one who claims this diary would be nothing without him!) Any way, I sometimes get bad cramps in my legs. Well, this time they suddenly ceased up and I had to get them to stop at the roadside and help me out. I staggered to a field gate and waited for the cramps to go(I don't mean the in-laws!). When they didn't, I was reduced to asking my compadres to start massaging my lower legs. I was really in agony. Well, imagine my embarrassment when passing car drivers started to honk and shout out things like 'wha hay! One even heckled 'Get a Room!' I was in too much pain to give them the biting riposte they deserved and simply proferred the time honoured 'Churchillian' fingers in reverse!

Anyway, a few things have started to creak and I don't mean my floorboards, but I won't consult the doc. I don't want a speech about my miles on the clock and an appeasing 'placebo' pill.--you know the ones that have no active ingredient and your mind does the healing? Apparently some drug companies in the USA put it about, if you'll pardon the phrase, that women could take a pill called FSD to increase their libido, when all it did was raise their expectations and lower their bank balance. It's this idea of putting ideas in the public perception. Seems that the condition, Halitosis, was an invention by a mouth-wash company to sell products. That left a bad smell with me! Sorry, couldn't resist that one! The result is that doctors have  to pass on medication that they don't necessarily have much faith in.

One good medical decision in the UK is the NHS giving  Alzeimer patients the pills they need. Mind you, even the alternative  medecine guys have their duds. Seems that St John's Wort does nothing for depression, unless the placebo effect cheers you up! On the other hand , there is money to be made now in health. I read that they are paying smokers to quit and the clinically obese to lose weight. I can't get anything for those, but I'm a cert as a donor for the new 'eco' gas based on human waste. The government say it's a sure fire source of fuel. They say it's full of potential. I say it's definitely 'full of it'!

You know, when I was young, a hug from mum cured everything, and in emergencies she brought out her magic hankie! I think the medical types could look into that. Although, sadly my mum is not available anymore for their research, unless I employ that meduim, but I'm sure they could ask any mum for their secrets. I'll leave you with that thought and I will go off and enquire where a chap can apply to donate for that new 'eco' gas thing!

Yours softly yet loud and clear

The blogging Gogfather!

Mr William is a 'Double' Whammy!

Image by Okinawa Soba via Flickr

Fabuloso  Friday  to you, dear Reader,
I am feeling a little frisky today and there is a spring in my step.(Not literally, of course, or I would bounce through my french-windows like the puppet from the 'Magic Roundabout' and that would just be ridiculous; although I do a good line in ridiculous if you want it?) No, I have been thinking about my success with the 'Ladies' last weekend, at my celebration and it has brought back warm feelings-but that might be too much information?
Yes, there was this cabaret/torchlight singer at the hotel. She probably eyed me up from the start, although she later offered a pint of Guinness to anyone who could find her specs, so I can't be sure! Anyway, she was chirping away during our dinner, singing songs from shows I had never heard of. As I was coiffing the last of my wine, my granddaughter said she had been casually speaking with the singer and she wanted to say hello to me. Well, I have this effect on women, so I thought I would make the singer's night and went to schmooze her with my matinee idol charm!
Imagine my surprise, as the singer lunged at me in the spotlight and wished me 'Happy Birthday'. That would have been nice, but it wasn't my birthday. I told her it wasn't, just as she struck up a rousing chorus of the usual chirpy song(Don't want to mention it--I might have to pay royalties!). I stopped her in her tracks with a gentle nudge. In fact, that could have been the moment when her bi-focals shot into the potted plant! Any rate, she asked what the occasion was, and when I explained I was throwing a family party, she jumped in with 'Congratulations', you know the irritating song Cliff Richard inflicted upon the world. Well, she murdered it beautifully-- probably postmodern irony?
Well, she couldn't keep her eyes and her arms off me, and then she tried to woo me with my favourite song, 'Danny Boy'. There wasn't a dry eye in the house.(Maybe too much drink had been consumed?) Reminds me of the time I attended a classical recital and I complimented the pianist afterwards. He asked if I also played. When I confirmed I did, he enquired as to my favourite composer. I answered in all honesty, 'The guy who wrote 'Danny Boy''. At that point I thought he had taken a fit--his face went a funny colour and he began to choke. The paramedics said he mumbled something about 'philistines everywhere'. Maybe he had been reading his Bible too much and was delirious! My family tell me there wasn't a dry 'seat' in the room that night!
Any road, that night, I felt like a million dollars(Actually I could have done with it to settle the bill!) As I tottered off to beddie-byes, my son-in-law, who insists on taking me to my door(Maybe he thinks I will wander into someone else's room accidentally--trust me, it wouldn't be accidental!), he told me that every woman's eyes followed me out of the room. Nice thought, but it wasn't their eyes I was after! If that's true, it is very flattering, but I can never make up my mind whether my son-in-laws are buttering me up or taking the mick! I'll let you decide!
There are two things you should know about me, dear reader. Firstly, women fall at my feet and secondly, I am a twin. Yes, maybe I have said before. I can't remember. Anyway, I lost him recently, sadly in the permanent sense, rather than temporarily in Tescos or somewhere. I miss him greatly, and the celebration was partly nostalgia and remembrance for my sister and me. I have so many happy memories, but I will share my favourite. My brother had a girlfriend(We were in our 20's). She didn't know he had an identical twin..Can you see where the story is going? Yes, I took her out one night and snogged her, pretending to be my brother. Then, rashly I owned up, only to get a smash in the chops! That should have taught me, but, of course, it didn't.
When in Burma(Myanmar) as a Gurkha officer, I fell for a local girl, but we drifted apart.

When I came home, I met and married my beloved wife and I mark her passing every day. We had many happy decades together and two beautiful and amazing daughters. Before I become maudlin, I will let you into a secret. I recently wrote 2 letters, one to the Prime Minister of Burma, who, sadly, is under house arrest. I asked her if she might know of the whereabouts of the girl I met. I only had a first name and a description. Strangely, I am still awaiting a reply. Maybe the post is slow to the PM's island of captivity! The other letter was to the lovely and sainted Joanna Lumley, she of Gurkha fame and large 'cahones'. I told her I thought I had played football with her dad during the war and she wrote back. Now, that makes us pen-pals. Just think, I could be her toy-boy on the side?
Anyway, can't stop and chat. I left my mobile phone on the driveway-no, not deliberately, and it got soaked. Now it's knackered, for my 'sims', boom boom!(Little joke there for the technophiles-you know who you are!) Off to get a new phone that I can understand. Wish me luck!

Yours flirtily yet pensively maudlin

The blogging Gogfather!

Mr William is treated like Royalty

Image via Wikipedia

Triumphal Thursday to you, dear Reader,
I am still walking on air after my fabulous weekend in Ireland with my family. They have dubbed it, 'William's Wild West Whim!' I'll let you be the judge as to what they are alluring! I was walking on air when I started on my adventure. As you may now have heard, I had an incident involving a persistent fly in my kitchen and an unnamed brand of spray--let's just say it rhymes with WD40.
You see, it was the morning of my departure and I knew I had to set my house alarm. A few months back, a pesky fly had managed to set off my alarm when I was away( At least that was the reason the alarm company gave me afterwards. What? Seems perfectly reasonable to me!) So this fly had to go. As I was rushing, the only solution to hand was that spray can of  'WD40', which my son-in-law swore could be used to solve any little DIY problem.(Yes, he swears by it. I know, 'cos I've often heard him quietly swearing under his breath, when sorting out little emergencies for me!).
Anyway, I sprayed and sprayed all round the kitchen until the little blighter was no more (The fly, not my son-in-law!), but there were 2 unwanted side-effects. Firstly, I inhaled half the can and secondly, the floor became an ice-rink.
Happily, my son-in-law fixed the latter problem on my return. For some reason, he seemed to be suppressing laughter, while he rambled on about 'elf and safety! As regards the fumes I inhaled--well, I have been having these hallucinations that I am Tony Curtis in his hey-day and this feeling stayed with me throughout the weekend. All the ladies fell at my feet--maybe they had inhaled something. Only problem was that all the excellent food and wine tasted like 'WD40'. I could have ignored that, but my inhibition chip has gone, so I told the snooty Maître D' that I only got a chemical taste off his wine. He smiled and said nothing, but his eyes crossed and he staggered a little, before saying, 'Very good, Sir!'

Anyway, I feel like the King of Ireland after my weekend. Just like our sainted golfers, I played around perfectly, sorry, I played a perfect round. Well, I'll let you judge. We could ask Tiger? Not sure I actually want to be royalty full-time, after seeing what they have to do. The Prince of Wales had to dance like an eejit in India (Although, I have done that in my time, even in India!) Also Prince William and Harry have to put themselves into 'the front line' sometimes--although, come to think of it, I have done that too!

No, I felt like royalty for a weekend. Did I mention this was a nostalgia trip to my home town? I felt like Kunte Kinte in 'Roots'. If you think I am being rude, just google it--if I wanted to be rude, I would be a lot more direct. There is nothing like the 'single' entendre to turn heads; actually, with my direct repartie, I have been known to stop ladies in their tracks. They often ask for smelling salts!

Well, after this adventure, my family think I'm St. Francis of Assisi. I'm more 'Good 'ol grandad' than 'GOG--grumpy 'ol goat'! So, it's all good. A couple of things come to mind. On the journey there and back, my daughter and her hubbie used a thing called a 'shatnav' or something--tells you when you are lost(I don't need a gizmo for that-I always know when I'm lost.) I asked them if it would work on water to help find fish. You would have thought I was asking them to explain Einstein's Theory of Relativity with diagrams! I like practical gadgets, like a fishing rod or a cricket bat-anything more is surplus to requirements.

The family kept saying they would stick all the photos on an 'eye-pad' or some 'book of faces'. Has the world gone mad? Just give me a couple of snaps to pin up by my loo, so that I can stare at them 'at my own convenience' boom boom!  The food and wine were lovely, but you can't beat a bowl of good soup. It's my regulator for my DNA and my metabolics! Again, not being rude. It's my longevity X Factor( Had to get that in for the kids, to be hip or thigh or whatever it is .Wouldn't watch the programme to save my life-unless Joanna Lovely was a judge, of course!)
Anyway, I love my family and they love me. We had a super time! Before I go(I don't mean die), I want to remind you that my nurse from boarding school taught me things that have stayed with me till this day. That's why I was prepared for the chambermaid when she knocked my door on the first night. I opened the door and she asked if(and here I held my breath) she 'could turn down my bed'. Well, faster than Tony Curtis with Marilyn Munro in 'Some like it Hot', I quipped, 'Is there anything I can do to change your mind, dear lady?'  She smiled sweetly and left. I've still got it!

What a weekend. Anyway, back to porridge. Got to rush off to the doctor's with a urine sample. Just routine. Better not do what I did last time. I mixed up the sample bag with the white wine box bag. I had left both on the shelf--one to squeeze the last dregs from, the other for the doc. Well, let's just say the doc called me in to discuss my alcohol consumption and I coiffed a strangely cheeky glass of wine! Say no more.
Yours suavely but still seeing double

The blogging Gogfather!