Saturday, July 19, 2014

saturday

hello there

blimey. i am looking at all these pictures and am wondering if i have the energy to write properly and somewhat interestingly enough. i guess i am going to give it a go!

some of you for some reason that i have never been able to quite work out really rather like my little adventures when presented here. as in recent times there has been little but nonsense and waffle about pods and pouches i figured i would try and relive the magic of such posts. 

i only really had the two things to do out and about today, but it seems i was able to take a fair few pictures of my adventures, if not exploits. why not start it all off, however, with a picture from last night?


this was taken during Bullseye last night on that channel that shows all the 80s quiz show - Challenge, i think it is called. i was very happy to see it was an episode hosted by Jim Bowen, and not that impostor that i saw doing some episodes. not that i particularly like Jim Bowen, it's just that Bullseye is a singularly pointless life event if he is not in it.

anyway, this particular contestant caught my eye. not only was he really rather good at that darts thing that they seem to do a lot of in Bullseye (i think if they had done a few other sports from time to time it might have made the show more interesting), but it struck me that he looked a good deal how 8 Ace out of Viz probably looked before the Ace Lager got the better of him. i also think, and this is not entirely unrelated to the lookalike factor, that if my mate Spiros got his hair done like that and grew a similar moustache he would look smart, he would, look you see.



on, if you insist, to today, and what i had to do today. well, i didn't have to do it, i suppose, but it struck me as a good a day as any to do it.

yeah, that is one of them SCART lead thingies, and it is sat upon a parcel marked as being for airmail sending in respect of postage purposes.

so that means my adventures today mostly, as in for the most part, involved installing one of them SCART lead things somewhere, and visiting the post office, or if you like office of post, to send an item in the mail. so, you know, that's pretty much just how exciting all of this is going to get. your call if you decide to read on, but there will be one or two, albeit limited, moments of surprise elements, i would think.



i looked outwards, towards the skies and the surroundings, and everything about the day suggested it was a day, since you ask, to have toast for breakfast.

presently, dear reader, i have one or two of what one might call or consider as being ailments. i consider them minor infringements, but they are quite nagging at times. they affect one tooth of mine, a tooth that i believe i would be well rid of, and indeed some stomach issues, if you follow. i did indeed suspect that toast might in some way fix both issues, and in fairness to my medical skills it has not so far seemed to make anything any worse at all, so i might well have had a good point in this approach.

in truth, when both intrusions are playing up somewhat, it does feel like the sort of thing that Elton John might rewrite one of his songs about to commemorate, followed of course by another award as such for the piano tickler, and scant recognition for the inspirational subject. such is life.



beyond the toast, the surroundings and their appearance also all suggested that wearing some sort of protective garment to chase away the wetter elements of rain would be wise. to this end it is with sadness that i say my black jacket is pretty much knacked, as the sleeves are all torn on it, a factor that allows the rain to seep in somewhat.

i felt it prudent, then, to call in at my Aunty (no, not that one, the other one) to see if any items had arrived for me at her which would serve the purpose of offering a degree of protection from the rain, and the higher that degree was the better. as you can see, and may well have worked out without me telling you, indeed a rather impressive amount of such items would seem to have been delivered to this effect.

yes, obviously from the size of the parcel there was more in it than just a mere new raincoat for me. the delights, you see, of my (considerably) better half commandeering the steering of internet navigation to "just get me a coat" meant that several other items were obtained, or if you like attained.

many thanks indeed to Aunty for taking receipt of the parcel for us, and i think it is more than reasonable to say that she was delighted to see such an item collected and removed from her home, what with the amount of space it was taking up.



the rain jacket, or jacket to protect one from the rain if you like, was indeed in this parcel. two, actually - the more modest priced one that i had selected, and the one that my (considerably) better half also selected for me, one lacking in moderate pricing but one she believed would be "excellent". actually three, as the more upper end style of one appealed to her too. like she has a shortage of jackets.

how is the jacket that i selected? spot on, really, as indeed is the other. you will be able to see selected moments of this new jacket in this blog post, if you are so interested.


like, for instance now, since i thought i had better show off some of this sky and surroundings that i mentioned.

quite wet, muggy, overcast and all that sort of thing it is and has been, really. not particularly all the heavy storms and flooding that some weather reports suggested we were to experience this weekend within the midst of summer, but enough to cause a form of any intrusion on the possible tranquillity of any perfect day, i suppose, unless muggy, overcast and wet are what fill your idea of a perfect day. for me, well, i would not say that the day was ruined as a consequence, but i equally could not say that this was a perfect day weather-wise at all.

some of you for some reason may wish to see the odd picture from the route i took, or indeed navigated if that is the correct term for it all, so here you go; a familiar corner for one or two of the people reading this, i would expect.



the warning sign barrier things you see there are, i must state, nothing too offensive, aggressive or intimidating. the people who do the water and that seem to be doing some routine and regular maintenance and repair stuff. as you can see from the plastic, maybe perspex, sheeting on the pavement, it was all made safe and perfectly easy for one to navigate around, all done with the most minimal of fuss.



it dawned on me that some of you might have a slight interest in how all of that quitting / cutting down considerably in respect of that smoking business is all working out. very well indeed, as you can see here, very well indeed. one has to accept failure and setbacks as part of any ardent, virtuous task, and here i am pictured doing exactly that, with some degree of nobility and dignity.

this one picture probably shows off the largest amount of my new, modestly priced jacked to the greatest level in this posting, if that's all that you really want to see and have a bit of a gander at before moving off to another website. i might well do a full and frank blog post on the new jackets, but also there's every chance that i might not. i mean, if we assume that i shall survive and still be doing these blog posts and things throughout the winter, i would think that one will see a very great deal of both in posts during the year ahead of us.

on to postal matters, then, and the letterbox, or is it some sort of letter pillar, which seems to have quite become the one of choice, if not preference, for me. this is perhaps because it is so close to the post office itself, but i would like to think even if it were located somewhere more remote, indeed isolated from the post office i would still admire and celebrate it, if to a somewhat lower extent.



what was it i was posting? it seems that there is still that issue in New Zealand where one cannot within reason obtain things like CDs and DVDs in any sort of reasonable way. it works out, strangely, more economically viable for my Dad to ask me for what he wants and have me post it to him, all at my expense, than it is for him to visit any sort of retailer or proprietor of digital media and indeed medium there.

the digital media he requested, then, is on its way to him. what was it? well, it features Roger, which is always a good thing. well, mostly, i suppose - when that Chesney is included in it that does not always mean that it will be good, no matter how much Roger you throw in the direction of it.

anyhow, where were we. oh yes, my travels. the proclivity of my (considerably) better half leads, as it does to so many people on this planet, to have a particular fondness for the items sold by this most fine and excellent of proprietors.



in certain corners and quarters of the world, when in the the select company of the more refined, educated and if i may suggest as such enlightened, when conversation turns towards from where i came and to where i would return, a phrase i have heard more than once in response is "oooooh, Petch's pies". they are really rather well known affairs of cuisine and attract people from afar to attain them.

do i quite like them? yeah, they are splendid. i would not describe myself as a leading connoisseur or consumer of pies, but as and when tastes and thoughts are aroused in the direction of having one, the ones attained from this store - for coins of money, of course - certainly rarely stray far from my first choice.

anyway, here is a statue as viewed from a car parking area.



and here is the library.



yeah, the text is getting somewhat thin on the ground, is it not? the library is a place that i do so dearly love to obtain books for the bus, but i current have such a stash of them - including, and this will be exciting, one that claims it is the "best Danish crime book of the decade" - that i dare not purchase any more as such just yet. i should, however, go past the library and give unto them some of the books what i have read so that they can sell them or do as they wish with them.

dearie me, i am say here feeling somewhat dizzy and appear to have developed a penchant for yawning. i can only imagine you are feeling the same, really, what with you reading my nonsense. let me go outside and fail, miserably so, at quitting smoking, see if that does not inspire some better text.

onwards we go, then, and towards one of the more famous of schoolrooms in the world, for it is not everywhere that someone is educated that shall go on to find an entire country; a country where the people love and respect cricket as they should. which is balanced out by what utter, utter twats seem to take charge of visa matters, but never mind. also this is all off and towards the celebrated ice cream proprietor that we have here; a facility mentioned more than once before. and yes, despite this not being ice cream weather in the traditional sense, the store itself was rather busy. bustling, even.



look, i appreciate that the weather and conditions and that are not idyllic or something, but it doesn't matter much to me. it's home, and i love it. you don't have to dress up beauty to be beautiful. consider, if you like, Waterloo Sunset by The Kinks. there are people around the world that think the Thames must be the most amazing thing ever, purely because of the manner and way one of them Davies lads, i suspect Ray, sings and calls it dirty old river.

no, i didn't stop off for an ice cream myself. all ice cream - even the finest in the world, as available to me within the matter of a walk - tends to give me that stinging, painful "brain freeze" thing. i, alas, avoid it mostly for that reason. as would you, if you too felt the sensation if icy needles being forced, crescent like, through your head. or not, if you liked that sort of thing.


an observation, if i may, and i do fully appreciate that this is neither solicited or requested. my experience of late suggests that most famous of appearance here in the Kingdom United - builder's arse - is not quite by design or wish from the gentry of this country. the sight of a bulging, sweaty, occasionally hairy arse rolling over the back of pants might not be, as you may have assumed, a conscious choice or deliberate fashion statement.

without going into the finer details of the matter, i recently had reason to by some undergarments of the pants variety. i cannot but help note - unless by some bizarre co-incidence both packets were the result of some poor manufacture at wherever it is Mike Ashley imports them from - that the back of all pairs are exceeding low in cut; as in far lower than the front. it's like they were designed to reveal the aforementioned qualities.

this in itself, of course, does not explain or justify builder's arse, but we are halfway there. the other problem, in my observations, is that strides are woeful in respect of pockets. the pockets at the front of all trousers i have bought (except jeans) have been about half of the depth of conventional trousers around the world.

a chap, then, has no alternate but to store his wallet in his arse pocket, something that invariably weights down the pants and reveals the builders' thing.

i have every reason in the world to suspect that at some point in the last 15 or so years the direction and design of male attire below the waist has been infiltrated and taken over by the Japanese. i have seen several examples of what constitutes as being "erotic" in Japan, and quite frankly i care for none of it. it wouldn't surprise me, though, if someone off of Japan said "me liker big hairy arse with sweat" and made it their mission in life to make it the most visible and prominent thing in a place selected entire at random within the world.

anyone who believes the above observations to be racist simply doesn't understand what does and does not constitute as racism. i would confess that some mild xenophobia, the phrase you are actually looking for, exists in the statement above, but not intentionally so.

anyway, the view from that most famous of ice cream proprietors, down away along the street. and yes indeed that is a tractor doing its thing.



i probably should have popped over the road and made a video of some ducks or something as they swam, paddled, floated or whatever the hell it is ducks do down the length of the beck. and indeed the width, if they happen to see something on the side opposite them that takes their fancy.

we seem to have quite a few mallards at the moment. quite vicious and perverse, they are. many people assume that in the world of things with wings that the owl reigns supreme as the most vicious, degenerate and brutal of sexual predator, but in fact it is the mallard. if such a thing as reincarnation exists, and the allegations are true, then Jimmy Savile has been resurrected as a mallard.

anyway, here is the beck, with some trees and that by the side, where there were probably some ducks swimming around that i could have gone and filmed but, alas, i did not. sorry.



oh yes i agree, quite a deft bit of road repair, that is, that bit you can see on the far side of the road. no one would ever know there was a pothole there.

several years ago, i think in fact seven, a lady; as point of fact a dear colleague, approached me. a baby had been abandoned at a church which was her place of worship, and she was asking all parents if they had anything at all that they could spare for the child please could they bring it in for her. i somewhat missed the intention of this, and felt compelled to head towards the baby shop, at which locale i basically emptied my bank account purchasing products. oh, don't martyr me in your mind, reader, this was about a week or so before payday. i guarantee you that i would have had enough cigarettes, probably had enough petrol, and if we are in the business of honesty here it's not like skipping a few meals would do me much harm.

on top of clothes, food, nappies and assorted essentials, i took a decision to buy a teddy bear. i perhaps should not have, for the essentials were of greater need, but i just wished to do it. it just seemed, you know, right.

the story doesn't have a happy ending, alas. i was told a while later - not much later - that the infant had not made it. i think it was told to me in a delicate way like that, which was a kindness. i could have done more; i could have done less.

you people like trees, here is another.



no, not really much in the way of visible road repairs in that picture, although i am sure that over the years a few bits of work have been required. we do endeavour to look after our roads, you know.

i've just discovered that there's a film that actually exists which features a Busey, Michael Madsen and Arnold Vosloo. wow, that's pretty bad, man. every actor and actress on the bill beneath that trilogy must at some point have realised that their career was either over or not going to happen. it's like, "well, i am only good enough to be a bit part player in a project that the imagination of the creators stretched all the way as far as Busey". ouch. buy it here if you wish to own possibly the worst film in the world. i might.

onwards down the street, then, and a series of shops that once housed retailers of some importance.



on the corner where i stood to take this image was the off licence, or if you like wine lodge, where i used to purchase cigarettes from. as you go downwards, there was a video store where i rented tapes from, and saw for the first time things like McVicar, Scarface and all sorts of other things i probably should not have rented. a little bit on from that was the most magnificent bookshop that i ever knew, hosted by a lady who was always enthusiastic about my choices of novel. at the end was a papershop, where i used to buy Zzap! 64 and, yeah, cigarettes. i also used to catch the bus from down there.

it dawned on me, as i strolled, that i had not updated the knacked bridge story. or maybe i have, and i just cannot remember doing so. anyway, if i didn't, here you go, here is the bridge restored.



yes, i was quite excited when it looked like the caravan was going to corner it. ace, i thought, i may well catch on film another incident of the bridge getting knacked. alas, sorry to disappoint or happy to please, the caravan went right ahead and kept on going straight ahead. as far as i know, then, the bridge remains standing as it should. for now.

i can understand those, and they are legion, who have turned their back on me, because i suppose i probably would not want much to do with me either. thankfully, there's a significant of the rather more dedicated type that have not quite given up on me yet. i for one minute would not presume to understand why not, but i am glad that they have not. i'd like to think it's not been all bad, but will acknowledge there's been plenty of waste, plenty of not good.

the reviews of that film that stars them three are not so great, oddly. strange that the three pillars upon which modern casting seems to have been built should not exceed the sum of their parts, but no matter. this review in particular caught my eye - i cannot but help think that the fault is with the watcher not researching prior to screening, but maybe that's just me.



buying the rights to turn a novel into a movie costs money, i would expect. whatever it costs is a fee that, i would suspect, pushes the budget of the move well beyond the means of any production outfit that willingly wishes to use a Busey in the film. also i would have thought most writers have some sort of "no Busey" clause in place when they sell film rights. i most certainly would.

blimey this post is long; i should probably go and delete at least half of it. never mind, will just leave it and hope that no one notices, or assumes it is all two or three posts or something.

onwards up another street then, away from the corner where that papershop was that i bought them things off of. also a quarter of sweets from time to time; mostly strawberry bon bons as i recall. or bonbons, if you want it in French.



one of the houses to my right is, for William, the most amazing house ever. he says that it has "Thor doors", and thus assume that Thor himself lives there. or herself, if some news reports i have seen saying that they are changing Thor gender are correct.

yes, off to the left is the church, a place that i have had reason to visit from time to time. the grass was looking splendid, and the flowers were truly lovely, so i believed a picture was in order.

Total Recall is on the tele. it's from there, or rather Barry Norman's review of it, that i got the idea to call work verk . he made reference to Arnie saying "Harry from verk" in his review, and it kind of amused me and stuck with me ever since. i saw it a couple of times at the movies, once with Mike.




it has always struck me not so much as peculiar as it has exceptionally flattering that i have, as friends, attracted as many who are devout in their belief of a particular faith as those who seek to voice their dislike for any and all forms of organized religion. no idea why, but i am very glad to have done so, for i do like to understand, read and learn of all that i can, and be as fair as possible. except, you know, Busey.

what do i believe in? the only line i ever heard that spoke to me as an ideal of what i wanted, all i ever wanted, was "just a simple man trying to make his way in the universe". that's that for me.



building sites are not, as it happens, usually the most exciting of phenomenon, except sometimes they can be exciting if abused correctly.

i post this one here for it is, sniggers at the ready, being erected (there you go) at the site where a police station once stood. yeah, i live in a place where it is not considered necessary to have a police presence. let that one sink in, friends in areas where such a set of circumstances is unlikely to be in place any time soon.

what are they building where once stood a place for the rozzers to have cups of tea and file all sorts of reports? i have no idea at all. i suspect it might be as straightforward as a residential home, but you never know. if i find out, and it intrudes on no privacy to do so, i shall update in the course of time. perhaps.


meanwhile, onwards and upwards through or along the street, then.

good golly gosh this post is long, convoluted and probably not saying much, sorry.

there's a scent in the air here. if i were asked to say what created it, i would say it's the type of grass, the way it is cut, the way that the rain falls upon it and the way that the humidity and the muggy ways elevate and enhance it. i only got a D or something for Geography and that, and it was suggested to me that i don't pursue studies in biology after something of a misunderstanding between me, a scalpel and a fish, so all i can say with any sort of certainty is that whatever causes it creates the smell of home, if that makes any kind of sense. i did say that one one very dear friend and colleague, and she said yes, she knew exactly. i think she knew i was going home long before i ever did.

i had forgotten Ironside was in Total Recall. imagine how bad the film would have been if they had shoved a Busey in it instead, although in fairness at the time i think the only option would have been Gary, and he's wasn't all that bad then.

my travels, as they do as often as possible, took me in the direction of a visit of Gran & Gramps. as i arrived they were reading the newspapers of the day today, and it looked like as good a margin as any to get a quick picture taken.



some of you - and bless both your patience and your memory for such things - will recall that i made a promise in regards of SCART things. if you have, for some reason, been particularly looking forward to this element, then your forward looking shall be truly rewarded.

i had forgotten all about the English fascination with SCART. as a connectivity system for TV, video and DVD, it is total rubbish. other than the cable head being bulky, the picture quality is pathetic - it's no better than an RF cable, and considerably poorer than either AV leads or, in particular, HDMI. why on earth they make things here for use with SCART alone is beyond me, it's a system that should have been left behind in the 80s. basically, it's the Phil Collins of the cable world, then.

that said, Gran and Gramps said that they wanted one as they were advised that was what was missing off their video machine. i did try to suggest to them that they had a rather good disc machine, and anything they still had on tape that they wished to watch i could probably get on disc, but they seemed to want the video working. i suspect Gran misses taping shows.

Gran & Gramps' wishes in regards of a cable will always surpass any views i have on the quality and use of such a cable, and thus i was delighted to give it to them.



yes, indeed Gramps was sort of delighted with the cable, but also sort of wondering why exactly i was giving it to him instead of getting on with plugging it in.

i got on with plugging it in, then.


alas, i didn't. it seems that the problem the machinery had, that of "missing a SCART", was not so much in relation to the cable as such as it was in respect of the TV set not having a spare port for it.

also, in this digital age of freeview and that, i was unable to work out for the life of me how you could retain all of the digital channels and still tune the TV in to something as distinctly analogue as a video machine. so i failed a bit, then. well, a lot actually, to the point of total failure, as the video machine could not, so far as i could work out, be connected in a meaningful way to the TV without undermining the integrity of either the disc machine or all that digital tv business. oh dear. there probably is a way to do it, but i just could not figure it out. perhaps it will come to me, or perhaps Gran & Gramps will just tell me what they have on tape that they want on disc and i will, as it were, make it happen.

after a chat and some coffee, it was time for me to be on my way, then. here's a look at the sky as i walked back, if such things are of interest to you.



not that this was an end to my morning, or indeed does it mean this is an end to this particular blog post, no matter how much you may by this stage be wishing that the end would come along.

there was another one of their fair, fayre, fete, gala, fun day things on today, so there was, to be sure, look you see, despite the weather or perhaps in defiance of it. the boys were, as you would expect, exceptionally keen to go along and have a gander, and just who was i to stand in the way of that, especially when there was an absolutely massive inflatable slide thing.

and when i say massive, well, have a look.



yeah, that big. bloody massive it was. and, sadly, too fragile and not really designed with someone of my size in mind. still, the boys loved it, something i tried to capture on video and that for you.


video

not very good video, granted, but i did the best i could.

when i say the boys took to it rather well, William did. he could not be kept off of it, as i found to my expense that was somewhat great. still, one cannot put a value on enjoying things like this. actually, the people who own and operate it can, i suppose, but you know what i mean.



and a bit more video for you, then.


video

William had gone down it about six or seven times before James decided to have a go. he was somewhat nervous about it at first, but as soon as he had his first go there was little, bar exhausting all of my funds, that could keep him off it.



oh yes, they were having as much fun as it looks like in that picture. i would have preferred it, of course, if they had not tried to jump as far as possible down the slide before sliding down it, but then again, just what is it you think i would have been trying to do if i had been able to have a go on it?

one more video? sure.


video

and that, ladies and gentlemen, is that. oh sure, there were some hotdogs and burgers, and then pizza and parmo, but you probably have your own dinner to be getting on with.

i am quite tired, and if you read all of this in one go, i would bet you are too.

a bit of a quieter day tomorrow, i suspect and hope.



be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Post a Comment