Sunday in Dorset. Dark clouds, wind squalls, lashing rain then sunshine. Repeat.

For her birthday I bought herself an atomic wrist watch run by some place somewhere by radio or whatever. It is always right to the milli-second. And changes when the hour changes. Terrifying. So she can now re-set every clock to the second. Frightening.

Who invented this weather? What is blair doing about it? Ooops - sorry - he and she are off again at our expense. Hampton Court Palace, yet!! I can tell he fancies it as his presidential equivalent to that French chappie’s place - what’s-his-name? Sounds like a sneeze with no hanky? Oh, yeah, Shirack!! an’ Versigh. Competition between kindigarden kids. BUT they use citizens’ money to play their ego-games. My money and your money. But no-one asked me to agree. Seems like financial rape and pillage to me. Do they know that as the P of Wales Edward VIIth used to post down to a Swiss Chalet looking building (lately a boat business place) just up the road from the Palace for a quick game of (real) billiards followed by a sweaty game of (personal) billiards? With gentle, warm, round, female people. (For 25 years I lived within a mile of all that. I know where the stories are.) Never-miss-a-trick blurs (or bliars). I’m a sick-to-my-stomach citizen. Yet again. So I’m lisnin’ ‘ere to de Chet Atkins - that man REALLY does it for me when I’m feeling fraught. The blurs / bliars are just a nasty taste in my mouth.

Herself is doing the teeny-tiny gardens like a ding-bat. I so respect her - I could never come up with the ideas she has and certainly could never carry them out in teeny-tiny scale. If it’s too small for a JCB - I’m stuck.

Well work’s piling up and I’m going to have to shave daily and dress up a lot shortly. Still, it keeps me out of mischief. Apart from that I’m trying to find someone to sort the front garden and am thinking about putting a porch outside the front door. You turn over one problem and another takes its place.

Then I have to see the Doc again in 3 weeks. Hmm. We’ll see what the verdict is. I suppose all old friends are one third comfortable and two thirds annoying. Dear John on his hill farm in Wales keeps asking me to visit and herd sheep / cut wood /pull bracken whilst walking up a 1,500 ft hill. He says it will do me good. I don’t want to die in Wales. So I keep not going there.

Nice to hear from you, Morts Mom. We love you and yours and wish you all an eventual end to your trouble. Julianna - if you can’t bring yourself to make the dolls house nursery - would you like us to build one for you? Got to keep the vision going, treasure.

Try some different wishes:
Wish for enough sun to lift your heart.
Wish for just enough rain to make you appreciate the sun.
Wish for enough happiness to lift your spirits.
Wish for just enough pain to make you appreciate the happiness you enjoy.
Wish for enough friendships to sustain you through to your end.

And have apeaceful week, my lovely friends - Dad

Gloomy old day. Went out at 08.00 to run an early training / personal coaching session all dolled up with a tie and everything. Back now before the rain and listening to Mark Knopfler CD ‘Sailing to Philadelphia’.

Two full days of meetings Wed and Thurs so I’ll feel dead by Friday! Herself working full days until Thurs (leaves home 07.15 returns 18.20!) then off to Kent to see unwell Dad & Mum. In preparation for this I had a thought-provoking meeting with a supplier of those electric ’scooters’ for disabled people. The things one learns! ‘Standard’ speed is walking-pace 4 mph. But some think this is too slow so there’s now one that does 6 mph so you have to run down the pavement to get to the shop before they do. And THEN there’s a 2 speed one - 4 and 8mph. At the ‘fast’ speed it can go on the road and is complete with lights, indicators - w.h.y. The GEM is that you need no licence to commit road carnage - and there is no requirement for insurance! So WATCH OUT!!

Meanwhile I feel lousy and have also managed to block both my ears so I can’t hear people talking. Ideal for work! Made appointment for ear syringe job next week after I see the Doc. I’m really not looking forward to any of that and fear what the Doc might say about results of latest blood test. Please keep things crossed for me next Tuesday.

Having advice from Henry about putting pics on site so I can show off teeny-tiny gardens and pic of Dad in kilt (not for the nervous viewer). Liked his new Pic Gallery and thought I looked very chipper on the boat. I enjoyed our phone chat, too, so that was nice.

Henry and I did differ over what should be done in France but as a Mediator I favour chatting over ‘batting’ people. But the initiative failed down here. We tried to set up a meeting with the group of adolescent morons who keep smashing things for fun. They hadn’t the guts for a chat, though. Says it all, really. Perhaps an IQ of 45 and a vocabulary of 5 foul words plus only 100 others with a maximum of 2 syllables doesn’t allow for much in the way of discussions?

I’ve had another record broken. Having whinged about how often I’ve asked for ‘answerson a used bank note’ - I’ve finally been sent one! The fact that the note was issued by the ‘Esti Pank’ and is for 2 ‘Kaks Krooni’ does not prevent me from welcoming it with open arms! Thank you - whoever you are! Any learned blogger who can identify the country of origin is welcome to let me know where it is - on another used bank note for preference! (Thinks - how long can I keep this scam going?) And what was written on the prized note? ‘The Answer is 42′. All students of the Hitchhiker’s guide - - will understand this at once.

To those who’ve tried www.parapluesch.de and become hooked on trying to cure the 4 abused cuddly toys, I gave in and bought Kroko. A lovely neurotic crocodile with mad eyes clutching his ‘comfort / security pillow’ to him. With him came ‘Doctor’s Notes’ about his condition and future treatment. It’s all a gorgeous complex intelligent gag and I’d love to meet the person who created it. If you haven’t tried it yet - give it a go!

That seems to be about it for now. ‘What if - -?’ is a great question when preparing for something. But it can ruin your life to think it all the time. So just for today set fear aside and enjoy the world, the people and creatures in it and the many small pleasure it has to offer. A half-full glass is much better than a half-empty one. Cheers all - Dad

Bright, warm, sunlit day here. Wonderful weather. Playing Chet Atkins. Aaah.

Of course, as I’m typing this in Dorset I was supposed to be flying a Tiger Moth over Surrey. Herself and I should have stayed at a Country Mansion Hotel last night, one Malt Whisky (The Balvenie since they sent me a free bottle) because I’m flying, a good dinner, a luxury room - then the Full English and no cooking or washing up. Heaven!! But it was cancelled. Weather forecast too dodgy and they wouldn’t want me to spend all that money on travel / hotel etc to be told at the last minute ‘Sorry, old son’. They were very nice about it. I can re-book in January for a date starting in April 2006. When I told a very old mate of mine about the gift last Christmas he sent a gorgeous greetings card with a big 3D Tiger Moth on it (he’s an aircraft nerd with a HUGE collection of small models covering every plane ever modelled) so I kept that on the mantlepiece to remind me of the treat in store. Having unpacked the bag, put the old silk scarf and RAF flying gloves back in the drawer, the card is back up there again - till next time. Still, it’s something for which to live and to which to look forward. There will be life after 1/1/06.

Read Henry’s blog with interest. If you missed my recent letter in the DT - here it is:
‘I have travelled extensively and was trained to accept the culture of the land which was my host. We proclaim that Britain is a multicultural society but that is a two way street. I have to accept Muslim women in a form of dress that I accept abroad but find troubling in my own country. So Muslims will have to accept that we have piggy banks and piggy cartoons and piggy jokes. To accept them, they must accept us. And the sooner ‘them and us’ ends, the better.’ Well you can’t argue with that, can you?

As for ‘Cherie’ who thinks she is more first lady than a REAL lady who has more unassuming ‘lady’ in her little finger than lumpy Ch in her whole body and what passes for mind, I truly question Henry’s judgement. Why is he so liberal / lenient? Has the New Labour insidious 1984-ing of us all finally got to him? Where’s his assertiveness gone? His defiance in the face of obscene imposition by extremely horrible people? Only one Boeing? I worry about the younger generation.

Which segues into the total shambles of this ghastly government and the awful damage done to our country day by day. They couldn’t run a piss-up in a BIG brewery and can’t find their collective arses with a piece of Euro approved toilet paper. What do they mean, we can’t ban bird imports into our country unless the EU agrees? WHAT??? If all this keeps on I think the Asian / Afro riot in B’ham will be a small domestic dispute compared to what could well happen if English (There ain’t no Britain no more. Teflon Tony smashed it after a few hundred successful years) people finally say ‘We’ve had enough, mate, get back down into the hole you’ve earned’. And pour in the concrete after him / them. And stamp it down.

Well, after that mild polemic I move on to positive stuff. I’ve bought a new navy blue double breasted blazer BUT it has gilt buttons and I want black ones with anchors on. They’re out there somewhere. I’ll find them. Any good ideas?

Having fun helping Herself with the teeny-tiny garden business. Directory publisher called and said - ‘Buy advertising’. My flesh puckers at the word ‘buy’. ‘Send info’ I say. It comes. So I phone a selection of people with adverts in there. Oh, my. This went wrong. That happened. We were invoiced when we didn’t place an ad. I had to speak to the MD to get this sorted. Seems like a ‘No’ to me. But when I told her she got seriously aggressive with me. Since I teach all this stuff I sat back and tracked her script. Why do people think I’m an idiot? They’re going to hate the e-mail, fax and recorded dly. letter explaining ‘No’ and certain aspects of commercial and contract law. Phew. How can people like this still exist today? Answers on a used bank note please.

Incidentally, considering how often I’ve said that why has no-one yet sent me a single used bank note? I just can’t figure out human kind.

So - Mort’s Mom - hope all as well as it can be. And sweet Julainna thanks for the note - but KEEP UP THERE! Now listen, treasure - however the cards play you can build / decorate / complete a dolls house nursery with all the bits WITHOUT beating yourself up or having bad thoughts or anything. So it’s a model. It’s as nice as you want it to be. Click on the US site on our web site for a big range of lovely stuff. Making a model is neither a celebration nor a wake. Just an expression of your feelings.

Have you ever thought - it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them, but an entire lifetime to forget them.

We should think kindly of the many people in our past - but please think kindly of me. Dad

Sun shining today and Herself being busy. Had two lovely e mail compliments about her teeny-tiny things. That’s nice. Playing Ladysmith Black Mambazo to myself.

Now join me in encouraging Henry’s book - all we can. He and the lesser world need it. And keep a private moment for when he is swept into the Windmill.

Checked out his complaint about the Basingstoke Canal and sent him a copy. Could be OK by next Spring.

Oh, the result? ANOTHER cheque for £100 plus flowers for Herself. Why are these silly people so silly? How many more cheques must I win in order to make them re-think how they mess about with us all?

If the weather is OK I’m flying the Tiger Moth next week. Offer up a thought for the people underneath. Actually if I can do a Rate 1 Turn without the nose dropping below the horizon I’ll be seriously happy.

Spent yesterday teaching / encouraging people not to wind up customers on the phone. It’s all about perception. My perception is my reality. That works for all of us. But suppose our perception is wrong?

There’s too much about which to think.

Now, then, Julianna my treasure - how you doin’ dere? We’re all still caring for you. And Mort’s Mom - are you OK now?

Think of life as a log. Saw it off a piece at a time. You can’t use the whole log just today. But you can use that slice in so many different ways. So think - what did you do with the slice today? Love - Dad

Dull, cool day here today. Wrapped up warm and went to the Post Office wearing the Hoody. The suggestion was made that if crinklies like me took to wearing Hoodies they would become seriously un-cool so the yobs would stop wearing them. Well, I’m doing my best unlike blair and all his atrocious gov’t. Fascinating to see how many things he’s talked about since 1997 all of which have got worse or just not happened. Perhaps my spam messages offering duff Rolex watches and sundry suspect medicaments originate from 10 Downing Street? It would be in character - which is NOT the right word to use about them all.

Playing ‘In the wee small hours’ s-m-o-o-t-h 3 in the morning jazz. Cor, takes me back to my mispent yoof playin’ de drums in a seedy Soho Club. Funny, I could stay awake all night then. Now I’m done by 10 at the latest. Funny thing, life.

So what about these results, then? Well, up until last week I held an Unbroken Record!! In many years of writing the occasional elegantly crafted, humorous or statesmanlike as appropriate, cogent and compelling letter to the Daily Telegraph I had never, ever, had one published. I used to number them and gave up at 200. Too demoralising. This despite my writing skills being good enough to be paid by the aforesaid DT to write articles back in the distant past. So desperate was I that I thought I would change my name to Frederick Forsyth (who he?) who apparently has squatter’s rights to a weekly published letter. His command of English is rubbish compared to mine. And he often wrote (badly) about the self-same subject as that upon which I had already penned a crystalline masterpeice. Then it happened! My letter appeared dead centre beneath the cartoon! I’ve arrived!! Orgasmic joy!!! On the other hand (in life, there’s ALWAYS an ‘other hand’) I no longer hold a record. For every glee there’s a squelch. I can’t complain any more. Soddit.

BUT lo & verily (purveyors of scratchy underwear to the carrigae trade) on the SAME DAY did I receive an e mail advising of ANOTHER result. I am fond of Malt Whisky. And in the above DT there are frequent ad’s for The Balvenie which is a wickedly good Malt. The ad’s consist of a photo of a bottle, a chunk of blurb - and a pen-drawn character saying something clever. And each comment appears only once. So they spun an ad asking fanatics to enter a competition to write a comment for the pen character. Winners get a bottle of 12 year old s-m-o-o-t-h Balvenie. You’re there first, aren’t you? YUP, won one - and it arrived today. Blessed is The Balvenie and double-blessed when it’s FREE!!!!!!

On the other hand (see above) saw the Doc this week. Added a new pill to my little collection. Said ‘Fasting blood test 2 weeks from now’ ‘ Yes Doc’ ‘ See me again as soon as results back’ ‘Yes Doc’. As I’ve said before he’s brilliant and we’ve known each other for 20 years. A positive gem. Now I have something to worry about that I didn’t have before I saw him. Why? What? Where next?

The real joke is about the new pill. Took prescription into chemist and chatted to pharmacist whom I know well. I asked how he was. That will give you some idea of how off the planet I am. He came back with the big bag of pills and said, looking serious, ‘You haven’t had these before.’ True. ‘You have to take them at night when you go to bed.’ ‘So the Doc said.’ ‘Well there’s a small side effect. If you get up after taking them you will probably fall over in a dead faint. But don’t worry.’ Suddenly the term ‘dead’ faint took on a whole new meaning. And for you youngsters, with advancing years, one does, indeed, get up and visit the smallest room during the course of the night. So how can I do that whilst missing the radiator and my bedside cabinet with my head on the way down? So many worries.

Lovely to hear from you Julianna. Hang in there sweetheart. Herself is expanding her empire further around the globe and now has a distributor in Italy. I’ve offered to hand deliver stock to her. Personally. Privately. Herself gave me one of her looks, so perhaps it’s a bad idea? Any advice welcome.

I read a quote in the paper which was attributed to Winston Churchill. ‘Success is moving from failure to failure without losing your enthusiasm’ Well it works for me. Love to all - Dad

Mild shirt sleeve weather here, and playing Country Music on de machine.

Saw the Doc this morning. Blood test in 2 weeks and then the Doc again after that. Life’s a bxr.

Now we’re not exactly HUGE plc here, right? So how come we get about 80 - 100 spam rubbish e mails EVERY DAY? And how can I stop it? And who are the perverts that do this stuff? How can I stop them?

Here’s a sample:

‘Semen production increases 500% complete no-quibble guarantee’ Their use of the English language is pathetic. Suely he must mean a ‘no-DRIBBLE guarantee’? Where is all this extra semen going? I worry about this.

‘Inexpensive Viagara’. Now I know what Viagara does. Imagine the wear and tear on your clothing of walking around for a couple of days with a flagpole where a nice, cosy, curly little chap used to be? The ointment! The cleaning! And imagine what it will cost to buy the dinners / drinks / hotel rooms for the poor deluded lady who has to cope with an irreducible and rather boring problem - assuming she retains her sense of humour and perspective.

Then there’s ‘Now cheaper - Proven SPUR-M formula’. My Father was in the Royal Army Veterinary Corps and wore spurs on his boots. But he never used them on the horse he loved so much. I imagine that an ‘M’ shaped spur means the ‘v’ of the M spur is around the boot-heel and the two lower legs are two spurs. Now that strikes me as unfair and unkind. I don’t want a pair of those - cheap or not.

Then there’s ‘Get it up again and again until you’re too sore to carry on’. This can only refer to a competitiion for raising and lowering your National flag as often as you can in a given period of time. What a weird competition!!

I was confused by ‘Shoot 5 times as much’. That can only mean using a machine gun rather that a rifle. But there’s no skill in volume rather than accuracy, surely?

So you will understand that ‘Two days of great sex for under $5′ had me confused. Just keeping her fed and watered would cost more than that. Unless it was aimed at women - which is another complaint. None of this spam seems aimed at women. Now that’s not fair.

This one troubled me: ‘What every man has been looking for - I’ve always been worried about the size of my penis’. When I was a young man I was looking for a decent Jaguar at a price I could afford. As to my personal friend I learned that women were built for that. I stopped worying and they all seemed quite comfortable. So what’s the problem?

If anyone can tell me how to stop this stupid and disgusting rubbish infesting my computer every day - please, oh please, tell me.

A final word? Even fools are entitled to their lives. Let us suffer them gladly - but not for too long. Love to all - Dad

Right, said he grimly, today I will start the great fight-back against heaps of paper. Such fun! Two bins worth later - which gave rise to severe attacks of ‘Oh, I never wrote / phoned / visited - Aaargh’ I realised I had not bought the frame for the Certrificate that says I am a Laird of Glencairn. I bet you didn’t know that.

When my kilt shrunk unaccounbtably some years ago I was v. sorry. The trim-as-a-whippet shape would return. Eventually. I gave in this year and bought the two new kilts and the smart jacket and that. Beloved Herself saw this with an understanding eye as our beloved women cast upon us and said - ‘OK, sunshine’. So now I’m an official Laird. Next year, the Dorset Highland Games. Throwing the Grockle (local term for holiday visitors). Drain the flute (clear the restaurant of certain bottles) Pull your pudding (a form of rope pulling using the nether parts of an unsupecting visitor eating naff ice cream.) Well it works for me. Could I get a Euro grant as a member of a minority (lunatic part Scotsperson in Dorset)? It might work!!

Love to all of you but especially Julianna - yeah, baby - and Morts Mom. We’re here for you. How’s it going?

We all have people we should have contacted - but didn’t. So we feel really bad. I phoned very old friends in France yesterday. They were so pleased to hear from me and we talked for ages. Go on - TODAY contact someone you’ve left out. They’ll be so pleased and you’ll feel so good. It beats having a seaweed bath. Love - Dad

Mort’s Mom posted such a kind and wise comment on my blog about obnoxious Granny. It helped me a lot. So I read with much concern her comment on my last blog.

Mort’s Mom - we’re all of us here for you, sweetheart. However black it looks from where you’re crumpled, there is a not-too-small light of hope and love from us all. (And, no, it’s not the lights of a train coming towards you through the tunnel - now, now!)

I truly understand your feelings about hospitals. My life-experience has been very mixed. In 1955 I spent a whole year in hospital with TB. Things were different then and Nurses wore starched pinnies and hats. They also knew exactly what they were doing and did it well. Since then I’ve had good stuff - my G.P. literally saved my life by getting me into hospital in a couple of hours when I went to see him about a very minor routine event and he picked up a major problem I didn’t know I had. I’ve had awful stuff for myself when in the hospital then and when trying to help my other son - not Henry. He was a walking dead man when I rescued him. Terrifying. So I know exactly what you’ve been going through.

I gather from Mort’s blog that MD is Dad. I understand you can’t deal with this and feel torn to bits by it all. But somehow you will. No-one can solve all the problems in one go so it’s one step at a time. The trouble is it takes a lot of emotional strength to keep calmly dealing with obstructive, patronising jobs-worths who stone-wall you or try to get you out of their hair because you’re a nuisance to them. Draw strength from the rest of us, Mom. Imagine a whole pack of people who care for you, each giving you a bit of strength to keep fighting for what you know is right - however perverted the ’system’ or people you have to deal with. It’s very difficult for them to deal with someone who sits tight and says, politely, ‘I hear what you say but it’s not what I need’ - or words like that. You need iron guts to keep doing that which is why you need all our guts to help you. Remember - they count on you giving up when faced with a brick wall. They’re in deep strife if you don’t recognise brick walls. Hopefully, you’ll get them climbing one!! You’re right - and whatever their name or title, they’re wrong.

I can feel your pain and understand you feel you can’t deal with this. One step at a time. One battle at a time. One ‘win’ at a time. Keep your chin up, Mom. We’re all here for you. And we wish you and Dad the best in the world. With love from Dad. Please keep me / us posted.