Wednesday, 15 June 2022
Scruples and Empire
Friday, 18 June 2021
Discretion v Bravery
In New Zealand
W (female) "You are not coming out for coffee with me in pink shorts. You are a man."
Me "They are burgundy, not pink."
W "You can call pink any colour you want but you're not coming out with me in pink shorts."
I go and change into blue shorts. We go into town for coffee.
Walking down the main street we meet a 2m tall Maori built like a tank. He is wearing pink/burgundy shorts identical to mine.
I turn to W (who has obviously not missed the Maori) and open my mouth.
I realise that anything that came out of my mouth might well be the last thing that did.
I pretend that I've never seen the Maori.
Saturday, 8 October 2011
Thursday, 19 August 2010
Why Am I Telling You This?
Actually I know the answer. The subject of Eccles cakes came up when Dave and I were having coffee in the Woodlands the other day. Despite not being a great fan of raisins, and Eccles cakes are full of raisins, I love Eccles cakes. (I’ll actually eat almost anything except tripe even if it’s not something I’d actually choose to eat). The family loved them too. When I was a small child there was near us at The Rocket (about which Scriptor has blogged if I can find it) a bakery called, locally even if it wasn’t its proper name, Up The Steps. I went in there one day to get some things for Mum and asked, not for Eccles cakes as they were properly called but for fly cemeteries which was what they were called by the family. I was promptly asked to leave. I presume I was allowed back at a later date. I don’t really remember.
The only other time that I can ever recall being thrown out of anywhere was being thrown out of Snows, a quite smart down the steps bar in London’s Piccadilly. That was in the sixties and I was just in my 20s. Given that I was much older then than I am now (mentally anyway) I was mortified. I was, I hasten to add, stone cold sober at the time of this incident. I was in London on a training course for something or other and we had finished for the day and gone to Snows. Someone learned that I could Cossack dance and probably dared me to do one on a table - I was quite adept at winning bets that I wouldn’t do something. So I took my shoes off and did a Cossack dance on a table – a very substantial table I should add. I was asked to leave. I was mortified. I can’t understand why but everyone else thought it was very funny!
Tuesday, 17 August 2010
Rain, Rain Go Away
Boy did it rain last night. So this morning I incanted the old nursery rhyme:
Rain rain go away,
Come again another day.
Rain rain go to Baden
Little GB wants to garden.
Rain, rain, go to Spain,
Never show your face again!
And the sun came out!
And I gardened (and washed the car).
And started three sentences with a conjunction. Sorry Adrian. Feeling guilty is just not enough of a deterrent!
Friday, 23 July 2010
Wednesday, 30 June 2010
A Face?
When we were visiting the Callanish Standing Stones one of the stones struck me as having a ‘face’. Can you?