Mr William ‘saves’ World! (All on his own)
Good Morrow, dear and no doubt economically pressured Reader,
Forgive me, reader, for I am in turmoil. At age 87, that’s the norm and I don’t mean uncle Norm (Although he’s probably in turmoil too). You see, there are 2 things you should know about me (and don’t be misled-great word that for mispronouniation-by my reputation). Firstly, I care about everyone and everything. For example, I’m recycling like mad. Yes, I’ve got on my ‘Norman Tebbit’ bike! (Sorry, you have to be British and of a certain age to get that reference!) You could say I’m saving the world single-handedly; well, that’s because I only use one hand. Don’t ask, reader! It just gets too complicated! Well, anyway, I recycle everything, except old jokes. Yes, I’m all original, although the boffins say our bods recycle themselves constantly through our lives. It’s something like Doctor Who regenerating, but slower and without the special effects!
The second thing you need to know about me is that I’m basically a troglodyte. Yes, folks, unless you’re Stephen Fry or of that ilk, I’m saying that I’m a cave-man. Now, before you jump in and say you always had me down as one, due to my views on some things, I actually mean that I am a bit of a loner and love to live quietly in my ‘cave’. Two things to clear up there. Firstly, it never stops me getting out and chasing the ladies and secondly, the house is not literally cut into a rock; no, it’s a brick semi on a hillside. Thing is, the rellies that I love dearly (Despite their many obvious faults, particularly the eejit son-in-law, who ‘helps’ produce my diary), want me to move to more ‘supported’ accommodation, in case I go gaga, and I don’t mean Lady Gaga. (I don’t know, though. I can be outrageous and I do like meat, although I don’t normally wear it, not deliberately anyway!) They all mean well, but it’s hard to winkle myself out of my cave at 87! Just think how much the neighbours would miss my singing and accidental appearances at the door with my dressing gown ajar? A wardrobe malfunction, I think they euphemistically call it? Flashing by mistake is what I call it!
Anyway, I know my home is not perfect. Whose is? Although, my smarmy son-in-law reckons his is. I think I’ll let off a stink bomb there next Sunday to wipe the smirk off his face, but he’d probably accuse me of having a tummy malfunction. Mind you, that would not be a surprise as I have succumbed to ‘PC world’ (Not the computer place) and have started eating my greens, beans and wholemeal. It’s like joining the ‘arty farty’ party, if you catch my drift, and you probably will. I reckon 5-a-day helps you fart, rest and play. Advertisers, try that as a catchy slogan! If you manage it all, you’re a better man than I am, ‘Bunged-it-in’, as Kipling might have said if he were writing for the Carry On movies! Mind you, my practical issue with food and ‘saving’ the planet is my memory. I buy my goodies, get mixed up and miss the sell by dates, then pop them into the recycler, when they’re whiffy. Some critics, like the son-in-law, have suggested I cut out the ‘middle-man’ and simply buy the food and put it straight into the bin. Philistine!
Yes, my place is not perfect, although it is for me. My furniture is so old and tatty, I became blue. So, I had it distressed, it made me depressed and that my friends is all true! (That was just my little joke—very little?) Also, my house fell into disrepute, sorry disrepair. I got it fixed, but I only had a red bulb for the porch-light. That raised a few eyebrows! I can’t raise mine; they’re too bushy and heavy. Anyway, I don’t want to disturb the rare nesting birds in them. I’m doing my eco-friendly bit! Did I tell you, I went further on the ‘eco’ thing and set up a bird table? What a ‘Craig ‘Revile’ Horwood’ disaaaster that was! The birds were happy. I’m good, as you know, at making ‘birds’ happy. Thing was, it attracted all the local cats. The moggies used my garden as a ‘convenient’ Commercial Convention Centre; yes, they came from all around to ‘do their business’ in my borders! They also seemed to go for the vegetarian option on the menu and nibbled all my petunias! It’s hard to be an ‘eco-warrior’!
Any rate, got to go shortly (No, not that kind of going!) Firstly, I have to shoo the cats, (Jimmy Shoos, perhaps?), then I have to see my doc, Ima Gunna-Killyall, about my ‘frozen’ shoulder. I went ‘baltic’ with pain, when it happened. Ironically, it’s not cold, just sore, but could freeze up, if I don’t work it. Shooing the cats with manic gestures might help? Seems polar bears originated in Ireland during the Ice Age. That might explain why it’s always ‘freezin’ round here? Just some final thoughts. Bought a CD in the ‘Poundshop’ by a lesser-known French Country & Western star called Patsy de Cline! There’s so much reality TV on, I’m glued to the box. Yes, I’ve stuck a box over my head and switched my hearing aid off! Bad idea that, switching the hearing aid off. Misheard several things in the shops today. Firstly, I thought they said, “Michael Winner finally ‘beds’ his love of 50 years”, (Slow worker, I thought!); secondly, I bought some meat at the ‘deli’ counter and then the assistant proffered ‘cheeses’. I thought he was taking the Lord’s name in vain. Then lastly, the encounter, where I nearly had a connery on the spot. A lady was talking to a friend and said she had ‘acute angina’! Please, never let me go out again without the hearing aid. Life is complicated enough!
Yours always caring, yet showing you the ‘cold shoulder’,
The Blogging Gogfather!