Wednesday, 25 January 2012

Mr William 'fluffs' it - again!

Mr William ‘fluffs’ it – again!

Good Morrow dear and possibly dieting and detoxed reader,

I hope you have had a good ‘clean out’ this January, I mean psychologically, not colonically; although if you listen to Paul McKenna, he reckons he can sort out everything for you. Mind you, if you buy all the ‘fix your life’ stuff, the biggest ‘clean out’ will be in your wallet! I’ll talk it all out with my life-coach, Ida Nissue. By the way, I think the colonic reference above was some sort of Freudian slip, as I will try to explain as delicately as an ol’ codger like myself can. You see, it made me laugh when I heard that ‘They’ had stopped some geezer selling a chunk of Saddam’s Hussein’s ass. Well, with my hearing, I thought we were in Burke and Hare territory, when it became clear it was a fragment of his statue. Surely, even for the low-down dictator this was a ‘bum’ deal? That was definitely ‘rock bottom’ for him!

Also I got a letter today about energy saving in the home, you know, all that green stuff to make sure polar bears have a bit of ice to stand on and sea-levels don’t swamp us; you can rest easy though, reader, as yours truly lives on a hill. So that’s all right then. At any rate, saving energy saves ‘green’ stuff for the punter anyway in our bills (See what I did there? No? Please yourselves!) Anyway, the letter reminded me of my little saying, “If you don’t insulate the attic, you’re only warming the birds’ asses and not your own!” Talking about money and loo-related matters, I remember an old aunt always used to ask us children if we wanted ‘to spend a penny’. Not being an expert in euphemism at age 6, I took her literally and jumped at the idea. You can imagine our mutual confusion, when I stood with my hand out and she said it was first on the left!

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking recently. (Dangerous, I know. Even Einstein, who reckoned everything was ‘relative’, would be relatively miffed now that there is this ‘speed of light’ debate. Those boffins and their collider. Have they nothing better to do? Can’t they get a hobby?) I was thinking about Darwin’s little ideas about this and that and it occurred to me that something rings true. If one’s nearest relative is an ape, I can certainly see how that can be, when I look at my hairy son-in-law. His knuckles definitely scrape the ground! Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle, so to speak!

By the by, have I told you I’m 87? A chap of my vintage (and not an ol’ goat, as some might see me) needs a little time to think things over. For example, I’m a little ambiguous at present, or is that ambivalent? (As they say in ‘Big Brother’, you decide!) You see, it says on the telly that there may be ‘cut price’ cosmetic surgery ads. Not good, but then they might do a 2 for 1 deal on boobs. I like to keep abreast of these things. I think the heating in my ‘home for the partially bewildered’ is set too high and that is making me dozy. (No comments, please!) My daughter said I could open a window, but I told her that would mean getting out of my cosy armchair. Trouble is I can’t get out of bed at a quarter past dawn as I used to and that has shortened the days.

Coming back to ‘bottoms’, I had a ‘wet bottom’ moment the other day-very innocent, but there was collateral damage. I slurped, sorry savoured a glass of red wine and when I put it on the table, I noticed the glass had a wet bottom and when I went to wipe it, I toppled the bally thing onto the cream carpet. Why did the rellies not get me a red carpet to save any bother? My cleaner kindly came round and scrubbed my rug. (It’s all in your own minds!) Talking about things red, mine’s red and bendy-the new table lamp. What did you think I meant?

Anyway, at my age you sometimes see things through a glass darkly, especially if it’s a particularly fine ruby red cabernet.  My younger daughter, on that score, got me a lovely picture of the grandchildren set inside a glass ornament. How they did that I don’t know, but I’m glad they did! Her kids are 3,5 and 7. Funny names, but at least they are all in their ‘prime’! Just kidding!

Never mind the red things, I must tell you about the brown incident. Well, I came into my apartment with my shopping and left a bar of dark choc on the armchair for later. Did I mention it is hot in the place? Anyway, a few hours later I sat on it and was sure I’d had a ‘wikileak’ of some sort. I, of course, was wearing my best white trousers. When I discovered the source and mourned the ‘Bourneville’ loss, I checked the trousers and reckoned all was pristine. Trouble was my eyesight is dodgy. I blame the new red light. You see, next day I went to the son-in-law’s to ask him to look over a document. (He needs something to keep him out of mischief. It never works though!) When I turned to leave, I heard him chortle and say that I had a brown ass. I explained about ‘chocgate’, but the damage was done. Just wait till he’s 87, so that I can mock him, the prat! Sadly his dog ate my document during the kafuffle. Hey-ho! That was me really in the brown stuff!

Any road, there are plusses and minuses about being ancient, dear reader. You can develop selective hearing. (Mind you, most men start to learn this shortly after they enter a long-term relationship!) Anyway, I was in church and the rev. was bombarding us with ‘Romans’, the book not some Italian guys. I felt he was preaching at us and went into selective deaf-con 1. I nodded sagely as he lambasted us about dodgy morals and thought, rather appropriately I thought, that ‘When in Rome etc.’. I was being mischievous, I know, but you can be at my advanced stage. People just say you’re a ‘character’, for instance when I pipe up at the Bible study. Well, everyone else was keeping schtumm, but I did fox the vicar with my searing insight, when I commented that the ‘streets of heaven paved with gold’ would not last long round our way! Like a good bank should, I always create a good bit of interest for the punters!

I must go shortly as it’s my time for the laundry and I have trousers to scrub. Can I share something, reader? At my stage, I don’t want much. I just want to go out gallivanting instead of scrubbing. I know my mind, but just can’t remember what I know. I stand my ground, if a little unsteadily, and can definitely say no to everything- except of course to a lady or temptation. By the way, how am I going to fix this? I love my music and I love ladies. So I combined the two and started buying CDs by lovely ladies. Trouble is with my ‘goldfish’ memory, I now have 4 of the same CD by Katherine Jenkins. I’ll have to do a car-boot sale. That reminds me. I have a reserved parking space out front and some nosey ‘parker’ crossed my line. I have to admit there’s not ‘mushroom’ for error, as they say. You’d never catch me ‘crossing the line’. Not knowingly anyway.

Before I go, I must put in a word for wee Norn Irn (Northern Ireland). Well done to our golfers, who have meant that ‘Irish Open’ for business in 2012. We’re really into our swing with this and the Titanic centenary. As my son-in-law always says when I go to the pond, “Drop in anytime!” You’ll find a great welcome along with our quirkiness. We have a town called ‘Effin’ and have invented a fab new swear word, ‘fecking’. Yes, really!

Anyway, off to the laundry. I have washday blues (browns this week). My slot for the slot machines is 1 to 3pm today and my daughter is getting me to go solo. She has written out a ‘dummies’’ guide (No comments!), including turning right when I come out of the lift! I put it in a ‘safe’ place and then couldn’t find it. I’m just off the phone with her and she gave me the gen again. She made some obtuse reference to Frank Spencer in “Some Mothers do ‘ave them!” She said the main things were to press ‘start’(Did she think I would press the one marked ‘explode’? Don’t answer that!) and I should also get the fluff out. To what, pray, was she alluring? My tummy button or what? What the heck is lint? Anyway, wish me luck!

Yours holding the line, but occasionally ‘fluffing’ it,

The blogging Gogfather

Thursday, 5 January 2012

Mr. William has 'gone to Blazes'?

Mr. William has ‘gone to Blazes’?

Good Morrow dear and no doubt a little heavier Reader,

Happy New Year to you all! Mind you, I think most of us feel we overdid the festivities and want to make good resolutions for 2012. Although I think we find it difficult when the wind-chill in the ‘Trossachs’ would freeze the whatsits off a pawnbroker’s sign and we feel the need (Unless we are celebs, footballers, wags or ‘merchant bankers’) to haggle with the said pawnbroker over the value of our family jewels. With the ‘recession’ etc. it feels like the light at the end of the tunnel has been turned off until further notice. Even yours truly has felt a little down,  though my family made the season frolic, rollick, festive and fun-filled. I’m not lonely, just playing solitaire. Even though I’m a ‘gog’ (Grumpy ol’ geezer), I’m not ‘Scroogey’ or curmudgeonly. I have been a bit ‘layery’ though; I’ve taken to wearing about 6 layers of clothes outside, but in some ways I’m blazing.

You see, not only am I still hot stuff for the ladies at 87, (Well, they’re only human!), but I keep starting fires of another sort. It’s probably all a divine punishment for giving the Christmas mince pie ‘soirée’ the 2-finger salute, when my daughter invited me. Trouble was that next day I almost decapitated the said fingers in the ‘swing’ doors of my blazing apartment in my home for the slightly bewildered. Well after the hospital visit for sewing up,the digits have been throbbing and blazing ever since, like some ironic warning to shipping and grumpy ol’ geezers at Christmas! What’s more, my flat is so warm that I regularly have to strip down to my undercrackers. This caused an accidental flashing kafuffle, when the warder, sorry warden, knocked at my cell, sorry apartment door, when the Rolls had glided out of the garage! Did I tell you she had a face that could sink a thousand ships? More Hell than Helen, if you know what I mean!

Any road, back from ‘Hell’ to ‘blazes’. Come to think of it, this reminds me what that snarky gringe of a son-in-law said when I almost had that fatal accident. He took one look at the paramedic stitching me up and said I should have ‘got my finger out’! Now that was a moment where the 2-finger salute would have been compulsory, but I was indisposed. Don’t worry, I’ll ‘stitch him up’ some day! By the way, I’m not being pedantic, but does ‘anal retentive’ have a hyphen? Hey-ho! Sorry, I lost the thread again there. Well, I am ancient. Just you wait and see how you are at 87! My daughter worries about my memory. I forget why. The other day she drew me a picture of a lamp, so that I could buy one. Is it me or does she think I’ve gone daft? Don’t answer that!

Any rate, back to ‘blazes’; well the warder/warden told me always to use the extractor fan when cooking or the smoke alarms would mean an evacuation. She apparently meant all the ‘inmates’ would have to vacate the building, but I had my own thoughts formed and, true to form, I cremated my dinner and the alarms went off. There was a mass evacuation, if you know what I mean, but a quick call from the warden averted a long stand in the snow! You see, what I need to avoid burnt offerings from the kitchen is a gadget that clunks me round the noggin when the nosh is nicely nuked. I could patent something. The son-in-law helpfully suggested he could work on a prototype involving a lump-hammer, an alarm clock and a ball of string. Charming!

Another ‘blazing’ incident almost lead to a ‘blazing’ row. It was a café fiasco. There was I minding my own business, blowing on my volcanically hot soup, when I heard a thunderous cough that seemed to emanate from the bowels of hell and was followed by a sneeze that would have blown your umbrella inside out. I felt that my whole environment had been contaminated and I was not eco-friendly. I gave the offending polluter a withering look. He responded with staring red eyes that were so piercing that I almost gave up the ghost! I was about to give him a piece of the remaining piece of my mind, but I kept my peace. Maybe it was my vague recollection of remonstrating with a bloke who was walking out with my umbrella one day. It was an accident, but he took offence and was going to give me a bunch of fives! That taught me to have prepared excuses and strategies. On that occasion, I apologised and legged it, although with my short steps it took me half an hour to get to the door. What is it with ol’ lads and small steps? I think it’s gravity taking over and dodgy balance. I want to see a ‘Steps’ revival. (No not the pop group, although the blonde one clearly fancies me. I can always tell!)

Anyway, I’m now prepared for any altercation. I had to give up wearing the full body armour from the museum as I couldn’t lift a leg and just fell over. The ‘black belt’ at the self-defence class was useless. He told me if he was in diffs he just ran like hell. (See above re drawbacks to this strategy!) No, it dawned on me that my best defence was always my matinee-idol charm and if that didn’t work with burly blokes, I would feign death, deafness, lunacy, say I didn’t speaky English or that my mummy told me never to speak to strangers. When I ran these past my son-in-law, he said that all these excuses were eminently credible. Git!

Before I go to get the dents fixed on my car, I will just say ‘bollards’! Yes, I keep reversing in to them at my apartment. The ‘warder’ says I’m like a one-man SWAT team. What’s she on about? Firstly, though, I have to dry my trousers-again. No, it’s not leaky ‘waterworks’; it’s a rogue water tap that randomly sprays tsunamis of water round my white trousers. Also there is a splashback from the loo flushing that reminds me of Niagara Falls. Even though they say it’s bad luck, I’m going to have to start putting up my brolly indoors to stay dry, if that guy ever gives me it back! Has fate got it in for me? As Kenneth Williams of ‘Carry On’ fame said, “Infamy, infamy, they’ve all got it ‘infamy’!” but I jest.

As Sir David Attenborough indicated in ‘Frozen Planet’, there’s nothing as frisky as a Caribou buck in the spring and that’s exactly how I feel. Mind you, I’m sure Sir David is ‘wild’ about ‘polarbeargate’- four years of dangerous and awesome work ‘melts’ away over some cub in a Berlin Zoo. Such is life, but I, like Sir David, will keep on striding this beautiful world (In my case, in very short steps.) and making the most of every day. Enjoy your 2012 and enjoy your life to the full!

Yours a little singed, yet always trail’blazing’,

The blogging Gogfather!
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