Monday, 10 October 2011

Mr William wants to give an Estate Agent a 'Brunch of Fives'!

Tina Turner in 1984 at St David's Hall, CardiffImage via Wikipedia

Mr.William wants to give an Estate Agent a ‘Brunch of Fives’!

Good Morrow, esteemed Reader, who is now full of ‘mellow fruitfulness’!

I like an autumnal feel. Well, let’s face it; I’d like a feel any time of year! Yes, I’m a man, who knows his own mind, but just can’t recall where I left it! Anyway, I’ll bring you up to date, or take you on a date. (Please form a disorderly queue!) Hard to get around here at present as it’s always piddling down. (Nothing to do with yours truly!) Who do you complain to about the weather? Do you have to go right to the top and speak with the Creator and Sustainer himself or do you just grab hold of a passing weather-girl?

 Mind you, last time I tried that, my nervy lawyer, a Mr. Grabby Ambulance-Chaser (Great when names fit the person’s job!), got me off on the grounds of temporary mental instability; mine not his. His is permanent! Ha! Yes, he claimed the weather had given me ‘SAD’ (Seasonal affective disorder) and that together with the fact that I’m a frisky ladysman with delusions of retaining my matinee idol status at age 87, seemed to confuse the magistrate sufficiently to get me a ‘caution’. His exact words were to keep my hands in my pockets at all times, although that has led to several complications in the bathroom and has attracted some funny looks!

Hey-ho! Anyway, I have ventured forth in the ‘peepmobile’, but that has been precarious, especially as I was taking my visually impaired friend out to lunch and the windows steamed up. He was blissfully unaware as we careered along in a ‘fog’ as the location of the demister was a ‘mistery’ to me! He was calling out directions and it occurred to me that the phrase ‘The blind leading the blind’ was scarily apt! I almost pranged the ‘peepmobile’ in a ‘steamy windows’ affair, but sadly not in a Tina Turner fashion! Even the wildlife has turned on me..again. I went for a Sunday tootle to the duck-pond, only to be dive-bombed by the endangered birds. They are definitely endangered now if I have anything to do with it. They showed no respect for the Sabbath. Maybe they were militant atheists?

Thankfully, some animals love me. My daughters’ dogs give me big smackers; mind you, that’s after they sniff my ‘fork’! At least, I scored a hit there. Talking of ‘hits’, I had a ‘great white’ wine the other day. Like the shark, it had great ‘bite’ and packed a punch. By the way, why does every young person want to ‘suck seed’ these days? Are they all parrots or sheep all seeking instant fame, instead of pursuing greatness through talent and hard work, like Steve Jobs RIP? As I said to my daffy son-in-law the other day, when he asked if I was going to join the 21st century and get an ‘eye-patch’ or a ‘pea-pod’, I said, “You may be the ‘apple’ of my daughter’s ‘eye’, but you can stick an ‘eye-pad’ over each eye and walk off a short pier!”

As we say here, his ‘head’s cut’. You can work that one out for yourselves, I’m sure. It’s also the name of a local hairdresser. Nice one! I’ve also seen “A Cut Above” and my own one, “Curl up and Dye”!(Apparently, they ‘borrowed that from ‘The Blues Brothers’ movie) I think my one is trying to tell me something? I will only let the male barber at my tonsure..thing is they have to get him out of the local retirement home for the slightly bewildered, just for me. He arrives in an oxygen tent with his nurse. What will I do, when he goes? Turn into an even more geriatric version of Brian May from

On the subject of age, I myself have had to consider moving to ‘supported’ accommodation. Well, despite my strenuous efforts, I’m not getting any younger. My memory is appalling….what was I saying? My hearing is so bad, I play my TV at stadium volume and I won’t be doing the ‘quick-step’ on Strictly Come Dancing anytime soon! Never mind, I’m keeping my chins up and my best foot forward (It’s my left one, if my memory serves me well, and it doesn’t usually!) I have also applied for a parking ‘badge’, so that I get at the ‘goodies’ in the shops more easily. I also had to get a photo done for it. Used one of those bally auto machines. Well, photos are sometimes called ‘mug-shots’. The machine certainly made a ‘mug’ out of me. Most of the snaps were of my bald patch as I leaned forward to press the buttons! Saw my doc, Ima Gunna-Killyall, for a blood test and she said I was a ‘rare type’. I said, “Rhesus Negative?”. She said she was just commenting that I was a ‘rare’ type. Charming! Everyone’s a critic!

Some things before I go; I forgot to tell you why I entitled this diary entry as I did. Well, I got my house valued by Screwer & Sons and they gave me such an insulting figure, I wanted to give him a ‘bunch of fives’. I didn’t, but later bumped into him having ‘brunch’ in our local restaurant. Well, I kept my cool and contained myself, except for ‘accidentally’ tipping a bowl of ketchup into his lap. He was asking for it; literally, he’d just asked the waitress for it, so I delivered it. Hope he ‘valued’ that ‘highly’?

Any rate, off to the pound shop now. Hoping to get the latest CD by that Frank Sinatra impersonator, Hairy Chronic Jnr, I think they call him. Sad loss of a fellow matinee idol this week, the great George Baker; old school perhaps, but what a pro and a gent! Mesmeric from ‘The Dambusters’ via the likes of ‘The Prisoner’ to the recent ‘Inspector Wexford’. RIP.  Maybe they’ll have a ‘Masterchef’ book? Did you hear Greg say to a lady the other day to “Hold her Own” during the show? Surely that’s ‘not on’ in a professional kitchen, not without washing your hands after at least? Have to sign off with the big story in ‘Norn Irn’ last week, Rihanna being told to ‘get them on’ by a local farmer during a video shoot. Yes, when you’re a ‘bod outstanding in your field’, you have to watch for irate farmers and the risk of a nasty chill round the Trossachs?

Bye for now, but remember that age is only a number! You have to laugh and live life to the full, whether you’re running round a field in your underwear singing pop or thinking about your declining powers! Using the photo metaphor, I always want to turn my negative into full Technicolor!

Yours gliding gracefully and grinning down life’s magical slippery slope,

The Blogging Gogfather  
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