Oh dear, Trouty, I’m so sorry I upset you - or, indeed, anyone. I count blog members as private friends.

I only deliberately set out to upset the idiots and jobsworths we meet in life (so THAT’s where Henry gets it from!) and anyone who has anything to do with a Government that has done more to destroy our Nation in the long years they have abused their power than any politician over the last century. Labour party twisters paid by the Government and having power over Civil Servants? A blair who avoids Parliament like the plague (see his attendance record) and announces things to the media before telling MP’s? A brown who pops up with the idea of abolishing the figure of Britannia on our coinage without so much as a by-your-leave? Breathtaking arrogance. Monstrous lunacy. That is merely a minor, limited and unbiased observation, you understand.

You see, when writing to close friends I have acquired, over the years, certain habits. I usually refer to ‘trousis’ not trousers (if I have to talk about nether garments at all). It started as a ‘language joke’ decades ago and gained substance (literally, I suppose) when the term ‘trouser chicken’ was invented. Imagine - in France, a Summer’s day, visit the market to buy fresh fruit, salad, cheese, bread, w.h.y. for the impending picnic lunch beneath leafy shade beside the gently flowing river. ‘Oh, look!’ A fresh chicken stall with chickens spit-roasting. Just the thing! So we bought one for lunch. Herself has the bag with the other goodies in, I’m carrying the chicken briefly wrapped in geaseproof paper. I’m wearing the ‘I’m in France’ panama hat with colourful club colours ribbon, the elegant light shirt with the sleeves rolled up two turns, (so much more upper-class than a short sleeved shirt, don’t you agree?) and the new chinos. Inverting the chicken-package in my hands to pass through a delightful floral gateway, the still warm and fluid fat until then retained within the innards of the afore-mentioned chicken gushed down in a torrent over the chinos. It seems that the inside of a chicken is bigger than the outside. We both laughed so much we were folded over and had tears down our faces. [Passing French-person thinks - ‘Huh?’ - or whatever - ‘Why are two obviously English (tch, tch) people having a crying / laughing fit whilst holding lunch, a roast chicken, and one of whom has had a serious personal problem whilst too far from the pissoir? Zut alors!’ Yes, they do say that. And, no, the chinos never recovered. So cold roast chicken is ‘trouser’ or ‘trousis chicken’ to this day.

Which brings me to why I leave the last letter off words like ‘and’ = an’ . Nothing whatsoever to do with the language form of a culture other than mine. Just ’sumfink’ I do (another example).

I’ve been extremely fortunate in my life in that I’ve been paid to visit and do business in many - but not all - of the countries in the world. Without bragging, I can assure you all that I’ve been very well received by so many people from so many cultures and have made many friends. Once accepted as a friend, then sharing language characterisitcs has proved popular, not offensive - BUT you have to become a friend first. So, yes, amongst Afro-centric friends I swap language with them and we’re all happy about that.

Forgive me, please, Trouty and others. I would never offend anyone in any cultural sense and have melded-in well around the world. No offence intended within our blog site. But I can’t promise to remember always to be ‘proper’ in future so I beg your forgiveness in advance if I upset you unintentionally again.

The meek need to be blessed - or given a long cold shower - [cf The Bible] because they allowed blair to get in again and continue to destroy our Nation in his unending drive to become the first El Presidente of Europe - because that’s what he’s about. And as for his wife!!!!!

Ho hum. Well at least Herself is having a good birthday. Having discussed, in a mature fashion, the expenditure of scarce funds on an anniversary we agreed that my purchase of her exhibition ’stuff’ would be a super-dooper b’day present. So I bought her a pocket Digital Radio so that she can listen to the cricket - and whatever. She phoned from work to say IT WORKS!! Because the steel content of her building shields most signals. I’m a hero to Herself for the next 5 minutes. I’ll settle for that.

Love to all - Dad

Well, an’ that, the sun’s shinin’ even on me and I’m feeling chipper. Listening to Classic FM CD’s of peace and quiet and looking forward to tomorrow - it’s Herself’s birthday. I’ve got the goody-bag ready an’ the cards an’ stuff. Over the years she’s put up with so much anguish on my part. But I’m almost better, hic, now, wozzit?

YEAH and verily another prat has fallen into my honey-trap. Why do these cold-call phone idiots behave the way they do? I can be sweet-talked into all sorts of things - but NEVER bulldozed. Anyway, more flowers on the way for herself and a useful petty-cash cheque for me. They get really knotted when you ask for a copy of the tape they made of the conversation - because under the Data Protection thingy I’m entitled to one. One would think that people taping sales calls would know that and say - ‘Yup, okey-doke, done-deal, in the post’. But they always have hysterics. Funny things, people.

A bit in the paper today about morons attacking people in hospitals - A & E mostly. Well, for a start, only a moron would physically attack anyone. Then only a double-moron would physically attack anyone in public service - especially in a hospital. So when we’ve done something extremely painful and long-lasting to them (which we are now too wimpish to do) no-one seems to have asked the key question - why did they do it? OK, they’re stupid. Thick. Whatever. But what triggered them? Take away the trigger and the mentally / emotionally deficient people wouldn’t behave like that. I’ve got some ideas but the springly-sparkly new labour party wouldn’t want to hear. Not that they want to hear anything.

My old - really - friend in Wales has bought some rare breed sheep to grow on his hillside. He went out this morning to pick mushrooms and came home to a mushroom and home-killed bacon breakfast. He wants me to go up there and share time with him. I must - before one of us slips his lead and the other mourns.

I wonder what you’re all doing. What you’re all thinking. A secret world out there. Please share just one idea with me. I’d like that.

Julianna - Hi, treasure. We all love you anb care for you. Tell us you’re well.

Charm whoever you meet. They will have had a sad experience at some time and your smile and warmth will bring them cheer.
Ever your Dad

It’s August and I’m in Dorset, damnit! It’s cold and I’m wrapped up like a lagged hot water cylinder. It’s blowing an almost-gale and it’s raining hard. Oh, fun , fun. BUT I’m listening to The Benedictus by Jenkins - from The Armed Man - a Mass for Peace. LPO and National Youth Choir. Tears roll gently down my face.

Fixed up a date for the flight in a Tiger Moth my wife kindly bought me for Christmas. The RAF taught me to fly in a Tiger Moth - probably one of the last people to do that. Very Biggles.

What’s it with plumbers? The first one did some of the jobs I wanted done and shrugged off the others. (Not all the ones he did worked out OK). The next one proposed a charge of mega-money which he refused to break down / justify for me. The following one gave me an acceptable quote; fixed a date; missed it; fixed another one - ditto - made a third committment. Failed. What is it with plumbers? The third one comes on Thursday evening ‘to look at the job’. At this rate I’ll learn to be a fxxxxxg plumber myself. It’s quicker and cheaper and I know who’s responsible if it goes wrong.

My dear old mate in Wales phoned me and cheered me up by telling me stories about people who had it worse than I have. Ho, ho, ho.

Herself is recovering from the Craft Fair on Sunday. Now I’ve found a laser cutting guy who talks sense I have some more ideas about what we might do. Yowza!! And, no, LordH, he can’t attend to your small and personal blemishes. Cuts steel, though.

It’s easy to say ‘love thine enemy’ or ‘forgive them who have harmed you’. I’m not sure I can buy into that. Part of my recent turmoil with a certain company related to a person who did not believe what I told him but refused to agree that meant he thought I was a liar. Part of the deal I brokered was that this person apologised. Well, yes, he said he was sorry. But he didn’t mean it. To him it was just a ‘formula’. I accepted his apology - but not him. I explained. He listened but did not take in what I said. So I expalined I would never speak to him again. I suppopse that makes me un-Christian. But, I have my rules, too. What do you think?

Closing thought today? Never allow the obscene actions of others to poison your own view of life. They’re wrong. You’re not. Love and friendship - Dad

The sun shineth, my fingers twinkle o’er the keys - and I’m listening to one of the CD’s the Sainted O’Mally sent me. (Bobs head, expels breath)

Well I’m tidying up, you might say. £50 credit from stupid internet people did not appear so I called. They are SO STUPID. Meanwhile the £100 cheque from a-n-other comms company is yet to hand. Why is there a big gap between de words an’ de money music with these people? No, surely, it can’t be that they think I’m so stupid I can’t remember - wha’? - scratch - gnaw absent-mindendly on nearest tree branch - that someone promised me a sniff of the much needed moulah. Oh dear - I fear for our future generations.

Interested to read that a survey of small companies suggests that graduates have a few problems when employed. They can’t write English. They can’t add up. They can’t be nice to customers. They can’t work as a team with others. They can’t get to work on time. They don’t know how to dress. Hmm. Other people must have more patience than I. Any stupid arrogant bastard like that would be out the door by mid-afternoon.

So today I’ve purchased a small display turntable for Herself and have tracked down a Craft Shop where Ray will produce exotic things for me using his laser cutter. Watch this space!! Anyone want anything laser cut just ask.

Well I’m just staying intouch. Nothing great to say today. BUT - don’t conform just because the bastards pressure you to. They are 10 times as likely to be wrong as are you. Stuff them. Real love, folks, Dad.

Well, then, there’s a lot goin’ on ‘ere. Dull heavy day. Decided not to visit the village as I always do on a Sat’day. Herself finishing final touches to stuff for Craft Fair tomorrow and putting more stuff on the e-bay thingy. Watched F1 Qualifying in Turkey and cried aloud with delight as Nazi Schumaker spun off. Life seldom offers so much bliss. And I’m listening to a Glorious CD courtesy of the Sainted O’Mally.

So I’m listening to extracts from The Goon Show. Not heard for many years. It was 1955 and lo, I was in hospital for a year because I had TB. Spending a whole year in hospital is a character-forming experience - believe me. As I ‘improved’ I firstly learned how to rebind worn library books. Then I reorganised how the service was delivered. Then I fixed the problems with the Patients’ Shop. THEN - I got the In-Hospital Broadcasting Service. Apart from all kinds of things, I used to play excerpts from the Goon Show. No middle position. The (captive) listeners either LOVED those bits or LOATHED them. God, it takes me back and I’m listening as I write to you. Sainted O’Mally you’ve saved my sanity!! So many thanks to you. I’d forgotten all that time of my life.

Meanwhile I’m working on my ’secret plan’ about new work - written or visual. Pages of notes and a volcano of motivation. Phew.

Today’s thought? Rays of light from strangers and others enter our lives to our surprise. Grasp the value. Have a peaceful day - Dad

Thanks to all for responding to my ‘can’t cope’ wail. Helped me a lot. Meanwhile - today started dull, became clear and sunny, is now dull-ish and humid. Last night we had a wonderful thunderstorm that came overhead, circled and returned. Sheer theatre. The rain was good for the garden, too. Playing CD’s from Classic fm’s ‘Relax & Escape’ set. Calm. Peaceful.

Well Herself is off to the Craft Fair at Weymouth on Sunday. The whole place is full of teeny-tiny things and we caused chaos on Thursday when the man came to check over the burglar alarm. The usual folding exhibition display stand was erected inthe living room and the floor covered in all kinds of stuff. Got the display lighting on - and - and. I do so hope she’ll have a good day. She so deserves it. You’ve seen her web site at www.in-miniature.com of course? And bought a souvenir?

As for me, my behind-the-scenes duties continue as engineering and commercial director (so far unpaid). Example: ‘How can I make a lot of tall leaves?’ Answer: ‘By using my Father’s Vetrinary Surgical Scissors’ (Don’t even think about it).

But, ANOTHER RESULT!! Yet another silly, pushy, uncouth telecoms company has been messing us about trying to twist my arm over the phone to take up their ‘amazing service’. Well, I have a few problems with that. Firstly I react badly to being leaned on verbally by a thicko - or, indeed, anyone. Then I don’t take kindly to being considered stupid. This twit assures me that his company has no ‘incoming’ phone number and has not considered that I can access their web site and get all the other intimate detail I need from Companies House, also via the web. This is followed by a person trained in ‘condescending dismissiveness’ who does not believe me but refuses to accept that means he thinks I’m a liar. Hmm. Then I have to talk to someone with executive authority. Well that’s like falling off a log. I find the name via the web, phone and ask for that person’s PA. INEVITABLY some jobsworth tells me they can’t put me through unless I tell them why I want to speak to them. There are two answers. The real one is ‘because I asked nicely’. If that fails, then I sigh and say, in a lowered tone of voice, ‘Well, actually, it’s about (her/his as necessary) private affairs’. Panic ensues. Heh, heh. When I get there, the PA is ALWAYS nice to me and we become instant friends. I ask for her help in reaching the right senior person. Works like senna pods.

The result? Another £100, a bouquet for my wife with apologies (It’s JUST ARRIVED as I was in the midle of writing this. She didn’t know about it and is delighted), and a grovelling letter of apology from the person who didn’t understand that not accepting what I said meant I was a liar. But I happened to be right and they have the proof from the tapes they keep.

I write at length not becuase I doubt that you are all well able to do this - just to encourage you to do it to mindless organisations that treat you as if you were an idiot. It’s about all we can do.

Oh, the CD is playing an excerpt from the songs of the Auvergne. Doesn’t that just break you up? It does me.

Have a peaceful day. Julianna, my treasure, I so hope you are well and happy.
And a passing thought? Separate pain from reason. Anger defeats the benefits of debate. Emotion closes one’s ears to differing views from which one might gain an added perspective. Go in peace, my true friends. Dad

Bright sun, herself busy making teeny-tiny things for the Craft Fair. I’m depressed and playing exquisite Elgar.

Went to the Dump yesterday and talked to a really nice guy who thinks our country is going to the dogs and was talking to his wife about moving abroad. He is atypical Labour voter. So it’s his fault.

I’m still involved in a ‘debate’ with yet another phone company harrassing my wife. They’ll lose - but they don’t know it yet. Dear God, why have I to carry this stuff on my back?

You have, of course, always read the DT. So you will have seen the ads for The Balvennie Malt. But please log on to www.thebalvenieandi.com and create an ad for them and win a bottle of the good stuff.

Julianna - thanks for the mail. I’m here for you.

I have another Client in the USA - Sheila. She’s really scrambled. I have to carry her as well as myself. I can’t do it today. I need your support.

When you’re down - reach out to music and books. They’ll save you sanity. Please God. Dad.

Warm, lazy, sunny day down here in deepest Dorset. Flute music on the machine as I struggle bravely onwards.

Herself needs lots of full colour stuff for her business and ink jet printers are seriously expensive in ink. So as a good business customer of PC World they offered me a yesterday model of a Canon colour laser printer for about £190 all in. Phew! In the world I lived in any laser was mega-bucks and colour laser was wow!! So I bought it. I don’t care that it’s the previous model and a bit big. Cheep, cheep. Got it installed today and I’m beginning to warm to it. I had an HP black laser for - think of a number - 10 years? Cost about £1,500 at the time. It’s knackered now, poor old soul, and stumbled bravely through my needs. But it never actually failed. Just some bits don’t work any more. Off to the dump.

Now I need new teknolodgy to make all singing, all dancing DVD’s for training and uplifting purposes. I can see about a grand going out the window - BUT as Johnny in Texas tells me he’s there for me so if he and his global mates pay up I might yet manage to pay the new blair / brown Council Tax. ANY ADVICE about the right kit to buy would be very welcome.

I truly HATE those b/b people. We need a folk revolution to take our Nation back from a spread of lying manipulative axxxxxxxs. Murdering or hurting hundreds of people is an instant thing that people can see. Slowly crushing and destroying our Nation is like watching paint dry so people can’t see what these bxxxxxxs are doing. Until it will be too late. Why are people not raging?

Which brings me to the Nottinghamshire Police prat who spent money buying green ribbons ‘to show sympathy with Muslims’. His head is up his axxe. He should have bought red/white/blue striped ribbnons for his police, the Muslim communiity and everyone else to wear showing solidarity with our Nation and loyalty to our Queen.

Having another poem published spurs me on to write yet another. I’ve been a freelance journo for years and can write about anything to any length at the drop of a hat - or the call of a phone. But not poetry. I have to have the moment and be in the mood. Makes me worry about the quality of my writing.

Enough, Dad. If you have good in your heart and are abused by someone - consider the weight of problems they carry to make them like that. Sleep well. Dad

A lovely sunny day and it’s hot. Trace Adkins playing again. Works in synch with my fractured mind.

I’ve copped a secret for Herself. She’s off to this Craft Workshop and I bought her some display equipment (for her birthday, would you believe!! She was v. pleased). So she needs a Header Board saying what she does. So I organised that and collected it this morning. The old game ‘ow much?’ ‘Some’ ‘ow much for cash, no invoice?’ ‘Less’ Which is what I payed him. He’s a nice bloke and we go back a long way. Herself is delighted so I’ve done a ‘good thing’. Well, makes a change.

Meanwhile she’s at home with a knackered arm. Doctor / x-rays / the whole 9 yards. Wel, I’ll lend a hand.

If you haven’t yet seen her website www.in-miniature.com or bought something - shame on you. Do it NOW!! You know it makes sense!!

You all know about www.lulu.com don’t you? Interesting web based book publishing business. I’m going to have a go at it. BUT did I tell you another of my pomes is being published in October? I’m thinking of doing an anthology of pomes and essays. Let me share a special one with you:

Love and Memories

Had I been delayed on the road
We would never have met
She gave us so much
We loved her so much
We miss her so much every day

Late evening, a tiring drive, home
The car still at last
Stumbling to the door
What’s that? A small shape in the mist.
A dog. Head down, coat matted
I ask her if she needs me

Through the door first, an honour owed
She had been someone’s pet
Then she bore my touch
She stole my heart. Such
A sweetheart. Loved in every way

Wendy we called her. Sadly some
Laughed. We guessed her past
Cared when she was sore
Gave her our hearts. We never missed
Meeting her needs. We patted
Her and shared a cosy knee

She gave to us and we to her
She has left us now with naught to fill her place
Oh how we miss her
Photos remain of laughing, lovely Wendy
The sweetest dog that stole our hearts away
Forever

If you can’t follow the scan - v.1 and v.3 - v.2 and v.4 - v.5 is the conclusion. If you can read that without a tear - I can’t.

The bad news? The sxxxxxg therapists. They just don’t live in the real world - mostly they huddle up in the NHS. Untouched by real life. No, I’ve NOTHING against the concept of the NHS and many people in it who are absolutely dedicated. But, there’s a much better way of doing the same thing. The dedicated people (and the patients and family members) deserve better.

More bad news? The fxxxxxg gyppoes have fetched up on the park behind our house. It’s an environmentally cared for space and the last time they came they wrecked it obscenely. Also, curiously, the burglary rate went through the roof. I respect their right to enjoy a different life - but why defecate on mine? THAT’s not reasonable.

Julianna - good news, treasure. Thank you.

To all of you - excellence is not an act - it’s a habit. You can do that.

Cheers - Dad

Nice day today but I’ve been awake since about 1.30 last night so I’m slowly falling apart. Trace Adkins singing ‘Dreamin’ out loud’. Yo. C-a-l-m.

A moderate degree of trauma here. Herself has acquired a mysterious acute shoulder pain which leaves her with one unuseable ‘wing’. All I could do was rig up a sling for her over the weekend. Then I drove to her Doctor’s place this morning to explain that she WAS going to be seen soonish. She had insisted on going to work at 07.30 because there was an early morning meeting she had to organise. As a Born Again Christian she has DUTY stencilled on her forehead. As her protector I can ‘persuade’ her Doctors’ Practice Receptionists to ‘fix it’. One all. New ball. I’m waiting to find out what happened.

‘DING’ She’s back. Absolute rest required. No work. (Heh, heh) Muscular problem probably causd by intensive efforts to make lots of teeny-tiny garden things for Craft Fair shortly.

As for me, yesterday I reached what the cognoscenti apparently call ‘the tipping point’ with the f- (er?), b- (er?) oh, yes, the surreal Therapists. So I told them to stuff it. I quit the committee. Cor! That means I failed to make any impact and they will continue on in the same old (stupid) way. One might imagine they were on a ’substance’. They couldn’t even think of throwing a party in a brewery, let alone make it happen. Sad.

Apart from that my ISP has broken the e mail (again) so whilst I can access the web I can’t do de messagin’ stuff, Massa. May be that’s just as well given what I said to the Therapists yesterday. In fact, was it something I said that’s caused my current trauma? Hmm.

So what’s new? My chum in Wales phoned to say he’s had a ‘tipping point’ as well about certain people from London with a Holiday Cottage (not well thought of in Wales) who come down and nick his blackberries.
Being townies they think because they grow along a hedge they’re - like - free. Thick or what? But he has a ‘cunning plan’.

So how’s Henry doing with Das Boot? Did you like that series? I found it absolutely riveting. And what about the Ruskies and the good old Royal Navy? Magic. But no surprise. (blair / brown)’s treatment of our Services is a - - - TOTAL scandal. Oh, and when did either of them visit the wounded from Iraq? Even in hospital here where it’s safe if you have an armour-plated Jag and get the streets cleared before someone else drives you s-m-o-o-t-h-l-y along. WHO THE (many expletives deleted) VOTES FOR THESE BASTARDS? So far, honestly, I’ve never met anyone with the guts to admit that they are helping to destroy our (my) Country. If I ever find the bastard who voted blair / brown in we shall have a challenging debate, believe me.

I’m not sorry Robin Cook is dead. Dumping your wife for a media performance in the Departure Lounge at Heathrow (oops, sorry, VIP D.L. meaning Vile Idiot Person) typifies New Labour. Meaning we have New Ways of being tasteless and disgusting. Gross. Foul. He’s a symbol for their time - short may it now be. I don’t care if he was the smartest anus in the anal labour party - Dear God - what sxxt non-existent standards he and his party work to. UGH!! But everyone smiles. What are they putting in the water?

I have a new internet Client called - shall we say - Mary. Mid-30’s. Mum dead, lives with Dad. No ’significant other’. Now I have to support her whilst not allowing her to become dependent. She thinks I’m wonder-man. Well I can’t live up to that - but perhaps I can give her a lift.

Hey Julianna - thanks for the news. GREAT. You see, you can manage all this stuff. On your own. We all have eveything crossed for you.

And for the rest of us? Take time out every day to be gentle. With a flower; with a pet; with a family member. Do ‘gentle’. As ye give so shall ye receive. It’ll work for you and you’ll feel SO GOOD!!!

Take care, people - Dad

Well, here I am again, at last, says he blowing dust off and wriggling a lot. Saturday a.m. and it’s raining down ‘ere in deepest Dorset. So I haven’t gone to the library and will live off the zillions of books in this place. Emmylou Harris playing gently.

Herself is working up into a frenzy for a Craft Fair at Weymouth in a couple of weeks. The entire house is filled with Dolls House Garden bits. BUT you must see her new web site www.in-miniature.com I think she’s brilliant!! So do her customers, so that’s OK then.

As for me, I’m being driven nuts by the Therapists. We have a Committee Mtg at Birmingham Uni on the 21st. and I have to go up to Preston next week to sort out their accounts. Actually the Psychology Dept. of Royal Preston Hospital. I’m terrified someone will think I’m ‘in’. Imagine myself at Reception asking for the Psych. Dept ‘but I’m OK, honest’ Smiles crookedly and blinks thro’ smeared glasses. They’ve been happily banking money and writing cheques - but have overlooked a little known quirk of life known as the Inland Revenue. Or giving Association Members a set of Annual Accounts. Their minds lie on a separate plane from the rest of us. But I’ll make it right.

Isn’t Henry’s news splendid!! All he needs is for everyone to put their hosepipes / spinklers into the canal so he can motor off and terrorise more 5 year olds with his eye-patch and hand-hook. He should be on prescription for exhausted parents of small-people. WELL DONE Henry old fruit. Keep it up. But Trouty (I thought - ‘Elegantly’ was a better term) - I can imagine how he is helped by the warmth of your love. See you’

I loved the Tesco-scam. He is definitely a chip off the old, gnarled, block. My score so far last week was 4 non-customer-oriented firms: £85 job done on car for free; bunch of flowers for herself; bottle of malt whisky for me; cheque for £100 in real money. KEEP IT UP, idiots. As G.B.Shaw said, all progress depends upon the unreasonable man. Yeah!!

So now I’ve acquired another American lady person as an internet therapy Client. That makes 15. Should I have an American web site? She’s such a nice person adrift in her own sea of distress. To brace her with a touch of reality I sent a pic of me in my kilt. In the 1930’s that would have been been called shock-treatment. She was resilient. Together, we have hope.

Hi Julianna - thanks for the message. Send me a sign. How are you on a scale of 1 - 10? Since most of the intelligent world is rooting for you 9 would be good. I think of you every day and wish you well, treasure.

Dad’s thought today? Do one good thing for someone that no-one else will know you’ve done. As ye sow, so shall ye reap.

Have a peaceful day - Dad