Monday, 2 July 2012

Mr. William wants to 'smell the roses'!

Mr William wants to ‘smell the roses’!

Dear and hopefully not sodden Reader,

Have you been deluged by rain, the Diamond Jubilee of the Queen’s ‘reign’, the endless sporting events (Fab if you like sport!) and the demands to ‘rein’ in the excesses of the bankers? Well, moi aussi! So, if you are looking for cohesion, social or otherwise, in this diary entry, then try superglue? If coherence is your thing, then try Paxman on Newsnight. He knows how to stick to the point so rigidly when interviewing, he now virtually skewers his ‘victims’ and roasts them for a BBQ in the pouring rain! By the way, what does this weather presage, the end of the world or just, as per, summer as we used to know it?

In any case, I can’t find the time to figuratively ‘smell the roses’. My daughter gets fed up with this as she buys nice roses each week and invites me to have a sniff after Sunday nosh. Waste of time. My sense of smell went when Noah was a boy. Mind you, his ark would come in handy at the moment. Talking of ships, it was great seeing QE2 herself sailing serenely down the Thames with her flotilla (Mind you, BBC coverage lacked a good ‘anchor’?) and recently she visited Titanic Belfast. Thankfully, unlike the fated liner, her handshake with Martin McGuinness ‘went down’ well.

What about the banks? If PM Cam-moron told us the banks had a hand in global warming, we wouldn’t be surprised. What next? Well, what about sending some of the ‘dodgy’ dealers to jail? I know that’s perhaps pi r squared in the sky, even though the figures don’t add up, but it might lift our spirits. I need that. I want gravitas, not Dignitas! I won’t be browbeaten. Not with my brows. They have their own postcode! Just indulge me and I will let you in on the random, yet infinitely hectic and surprising world of the lively octogenarian. (That’s me I’m alluring to, in case you weren’t sure!) By the way, do you think ‘Jockeyshorts’ or Murray mint will win Wimbledon?

Firstly, did I tell you the family home was sold? Well, the agent, Ima Screwer got me a ‘fair’ price, if fair means rock bottom and not all the fun of the ‘fair’! At least I can liquidise my assets. (Your dosh might get a bit soggy that way, but it makes a great smoothie!) Daughters want me to cling on to my assets. Well, will do my best. I’ve covered my ass with insurance. Is that why they call it assurance? Seems ladies worry if their ‘bum looks big in this’ or anything else. I say, “Leave watching your behind to me.” I will look upon it as a public service. It’s been a lifetime’s hobby anyway. Any rate, got to see my blonde solicitor again, as she wants to ensure all my ‘affairs’ are in order. Has someone been blabbing? Did you? The son-in-law, yes, the dopey one, is helping with the paper chase and insists on coming with me to the lawyer. He mumbled something about making sure I listened and kept my eyes on the documents and not her particulars! Must remind her I’ve not been ‘rewired’, the house I mean! I’m wired up to the moon. Did you see that thing about the transit of Venus? If women are from Venus, I might get a lucky encounter of a cosmic order? Seems also that in 4 million years, our galaxy will smash into Andromeda. What should I do about that? Cancel this year’s hols or what? By the by, did you see the docs were on strike for a day? They had posters, but I couldn’t make out a word of the writing. Boom, boom! My doctor’s reception had a sign last week, “Training in progress. Please be patient!” What else could I be? Unless it was role-play? Could I be the doc for a change? Better not go there?

Well, at least I’ve paid my taxes in full (Unlike Jimmy Carr and some dodgy ‘Condemns’—comedians all!) and moved into my home for the occasionally bewildered. Nearly sorted now, but the cleaner keeps ‘tidying up’ all my correspondence and it goes into an intergalactic black hole along with my memory! Every time I cancel a direct debit on the ‘old’ house, the company charges me for their ‘inconvenience’. I nearly went sky high when a satellite insurance company billed me for another year for the ‘bin lid’ on the roof! Blue sky thinking on their part. Seems everything’s in the small print, but I stopped being able to read that after a very overactive adolescence! Anyway, it’s so warm and dry in the ‘home’, I’ve shredded my souwester and can now concentrate on settling down and ‘smelling the roses’, so to speak.

Mind you, a few things to attend to. I can’t find shoes to fit me. Shops seem biased against the small-footed. Might start a campaign? I can’t do up the laces anyway. Daughter suggested slip-ons. In my case, they would slip off and I’d be on my ass. Recipe for disaster? Bit like my cooking. At least wine in moderation is good for you again! Before this, you couldn’t take enough to get a tiddler tiddley. I use lots of wine when cooking. I even put some in the food! Ha! Due to my dodgy memory, I now resort to the sniff test on food, rather than the dates. No ill effects so far, although the lack of a sense of smell now is a hindrance! Wish me luck! Sense of taste going too. I need spicy food that blows your behind off just to get some flavour. Also eating spicy crisps, but I think they’ve made my neck so thick I can’t button up my shirts for church. At least I leave most of my nosh on my shirt anyway. It’s a novel slimming regime! Tell you what’s really novel- one of our local, popular chefs only cooks on the radio! A real feast for the senses? One thing I love is crackers. Yes, the bikkies. It’s not just the taste, but also the wordplay. You can eat them, be them or pull them. You can ponder on that at your own convenience. (In the loo, if you wish?)

By the way, got that cheque for my steering column coming off in my hand. Yes, now holding a piece of paper that allows me ‘Peace in my time’! Not much peace in Greece. What’s a Grecian urn? 2 drachmas an hour! Old joke, but will it come back into fashion? Unlike Syria, where the regime is so beyond the pale, I may have to get out of my armchair & do something, unlike the UN! Politicians are useless ‘weak’ in and ‘weak’ out? If they want wind farms, there’s plenty of hot air in parliament! Is it only me that chuckles when they say at Westminster that ‘Black Rod’ will announce the Queen? Is he steely?

By the by, did you notice the ‘Wags’ were not wagging their tails any more during Euro2012? Times of austerity not so much fun. TV ads everywhere offering loans. Lines like, “My credit history was a bit ‘tricky, so now I’m delighted etc.” Expensive loans for folks in debt? Friend or enema, as my dad used to say? Little thought occurred to me, is an undertaker, who is into reincarnation looking for repeat business and where does he leave his card? Saw a sign outside a beauty salon near here. “Mancure and pedicure, while you wait.” I’m keeping clear of there. I love little ironic faux pas, don’t you? French is a foreign language here. In Norn Irn, when I was young, nothing was chic. A ‘Bureau de Change’ sounded scary. It was called a ‘Boo dee change’. The dole office was the ‘brew’ (Bureau again.) I thought the unemployed were given tea and sympathy to tide them over till they surfaced! Hey-ho! Now we’re getting hi-fi or wi-fi in Belfast. (Will they be appearing with Westlife?) Son-in-law says that will be great. He’s always saying, “There’s a ‘nap’ for that!” Dozy twonk! He said I would be a ‘You Tube’ sensation. I just quipped, “You tube!” He was talking about my trip on the stairs at the home. No, drink had not been taken. Well, not much. I hope it wasn’t on the CCTV! I was stocked and shunned after my fall. Yes, I received dirty looks and tuts. Am I getting a reputation? Don’t answer that! Everyone’s a critic! Since I fell on my nose, I thought it might spoil my matinee idol looks, but all’s fine. It must be ok ‘cos the lady optician stared dreamily into my eyes for ages during my check up today. Also all the ladies in the shops and cafés vow their undying love, if not in words, then in their demeanour. They’re all married, but they would dump them for me if I asked, (Especially the one whose husband is up the Amazon!), but I’ve too much on! My cleaner surprised me from behind at the shopping centre. Made me jump on many levels! I went to ‘snog’ her in my serendipitous delight, when she pointed at the cctv as a way of cooling my ardour. Harder than she thinks. A bucket of water would have been better!

Did I tell you about my super idea that I may pitch to Simon Cowell to replace that Pop Idol / X Factor jobbie? Yes, it’s called ‘Matinée Idol’. Yep, handsome, irresistible blokes like me go through a series of tests. For example, round 1 could be the killer ‘stare’ which makes the ladies fall at your feet, then the hair test to see if your coiffure can remain at a jaunty angle in an open top sports car travelling in the Riviera. If all else fails and there is a tiebreaker, you could have the one to one, no holes barred combat round, where one swift kick to the King Creoles (You know, the coconuts –crutch, especially if they’re leaning on it at the time) could win the contest. Do you think it’s a runner?

Anyway, daughter sticking to traditional crafts and has made patchwork cushions. I told her they looked very ‘rustic’. She said something about getting ‘stuffed’; must be alluring to the cushions? My other daughter sent me a local W.I. ‘Calendar Girls’ charity calendar. Should I tell her that Miss July’s cupcakes have slipped revealingly? Do you think the ladies in my ‘home’ here would consider doing one of these? It is for charity and I could do the auditions. Shall I approach the warder? Sorry, I can’t quite hear you?

Anyway, in case you were waiting to hear, the Queen didn’t have time to call in for tea and crumpet, when she was over. She knows she’s welcome to inspect my ‘common’ quarters anytime. I just wanted to remind her about my 100th. Not that long now. Any hoo, must hurry along as I have to pay my car insurance; just the price of a small house this year. It’s my miles on the clock, not the car’s! Yes, at my age you sometimes feel like Sisyphus, the mythic character, who was doomed to push a boulder up a slope for eternity, only to see it roll down again every time. They say that youth is wasted on the young. Well, I think everyone has a duty to fight against the dimming of the light and keep the flame burning bright.

Randomly and amazingly, I got to hold the Olympic torch recently. You mightn’t believe me, but this is true. Normally I admit that my poetic licence is fully operational. You see, one of the charity runners locally was leaving his proud mum back to our ‘home’ and we all happened to be in the lift. Well, what a lift I got when he let me carry ‘the’ torch for 2 floors! I’m blessed!

I told my daughter I chat so much ‘cos I’m on my own and I can only talk to myself. At least there are no arguments that way. Also, I have wisely decided only to tell myself good news! My daughter says that she finds the darkness quite comforting, like Simon & Garfunkel’s, “Hello, darkness, my old friend!” For me, it’s illumination every time. I shared some of these thoughts, when I had to do an impromptu speech of thanks at a church dinner recently. I think I was the most senior, but it did seem to ‘light the room up’! 2 people have inspired me this month. Jack Osbourne with his MS diagnosis and his ‘adapt and overcome’ attitude. What a guy! Also Michele Obama ‘skipping’ the light fantastic on a TV show. What a gal!

Yes, I’m for saying ‘Yes’ to life and living it to the full!

Yours, ‘smelling the roses’, yet always self ‘ass’ured,

The Blogging Gogfather