anniversary 35

hi there


it may be possible, look you see, that you are sat on 30 March 2020 contemplating what you might have watched on the television some 35 years ago, or if you like 30 March 1985. should this be so then apparently you are not alone.

by no means is this an exhaustive or conclusive answer to such speculation, and indeed only covers those who are wondering so for the main commercial television channel in the uk. at the least, the main one at the time, for now we have several.

as you can see, it was quite a different time, with meddling with things such as sorcery and the rather dangerous dark arts of prophecy and soothsaying being seen as perfectly acceptable forms of early evening light entertainment.

no, i do not recall the zodiac game at all, but it does look rather interesting. as tom o'connor was regarded as the face of all which is safe and wholesome in terms of life and entertainment, it can be little wonder that he was used to lure a formidable range of a list celebrities in to dabble with the unknown that should remain not known to mortals.

indeed, yes, that is a weirdly specific commencement of broadcasting time. so little was happening in the world at this stage, it seems, that the main evening news was only given 2 minutes of time, presumably to confirm that all was as it was and should be.

for those who remained tuned in after the zodiac game, which is to say those who did not become seduced by the meddling of tom o'connor with tales of the future and so set out to experiment with tarot cards, ouija boards and similar, there was the spectacle of the fall guy to sit and watch. or stand and watch, i suppose, if that is how you preferred to do it. maybe lay on the couch, or in bed, for by this time the idea of having tv sets in bedrooms was starting to be common.

perhaps the most interesting aspect of this listing is the great emphasis placed on how both Lee Majors and Douglas Barr feature in it. they are, as you can clearly see, listed just below the name of the show, just above the title of the particular episode, and then again below, with the final listing giving every confirmation that they are playing the characters in the show which they are most commonly associated with playing. i am not sure if people would, in any great number, have not tuned in without such confirmation.

no, for the sake of clarity, this episode is not the one which a claim was made that vernon wells was in, but turned out that he was not. for more information on that particular one, please click here to read whatever information i could find on it.




be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

'cause in sleepy london town

heya


oh, go on then. another post on my sojourn, or adventure, look you see, to london. well, my most recent of such, and whoever knows perhaps final of sorts. and why not.

it would be both fair and safe to assume (or presume) that my more regular readers would be quite fed up of the subject of london, since that is what seems to have dominated posts this month. with such in mind, i will do what i can to make this a final one. that may mean this is longer than usual, so to speak. also, quite a few selfies (of course featuring moi), but that is fine as little damage shall be done if fewer of you are reading it.

to the many pictures of me here that shall feature, well, what could i say or ask. should you ever for any reason feel compelled to pause and reconsider me, then remember me this way. or, forget it all ever happened, whichever is the easiest.

hopefully i shall be able to recall where all these pictures are. this one above, at the least, i can most assuredly confirm, is outside of kings cross, having a cigarette having just completed a surprisingly pleasant and (almost) mostly stress free trip down.

for those not in the now, our English trains are generally regarded as a complete pile of sh!t. in optimal conditions they are prone to delays and cancellations for no given reason, and are staffed by people who are extremely strike friendly. the miracle of my journey is that it actually happened, despite two massive storms on the weekend before and on it, planned and "unplanned" maintenance work, and a mystery stop in, of all places, Grantham, where the train driver managed to "correct" the issue with the train. right after some people who had got on the train with "split tickets" as far as Grantham but hoped to see london were invited to leave. had we broken down in Grantham forever, it might not have been so bad, i would have just gone and looked for where Bad News did their gig in the Bad News Tour documentary.

my thoughts on kings cross? i was quite annoyed that the usual food market was not on, as i had hoped to pick up some biltong and drywors for the family from it. the failure to do so undoubtedly provoked even more hatred and contempt towards your humble narrator from my (considerably) better half than is usual, which is an achievement i suppose. beyond that, there was a significant and visible increase in the number of people rough sleeping, and a remarkable number of people who thought that i was some sort of free cigarette dispenser, which i am not.

off from kings cross and on to the magic of the tube system, then. and it really is quite remarkable. whilst i appreciate that familiarity breeds contempt, all them london types what moan about the tube and the buses really need to go out to the provincial areas and see how they get on without.

here i am, then, at shepherd's bush. no, i didn't get off here, so to speak. my memory suggests that this is where one would depart to go to the old bbc centre, which they took off them and moved them to manchester which they sulk about. also, in terms of rock and roll, i do believe that it was "the bush" what was considered the stomping ground of the likes of the who and indeed status quo. so maybe i should have gone for a gander, see if there was any tribute to such.

and speaking of tube stations and rock legend, hammersmith.

well, i think (or am at the least fairly sure) that is me outside one of the hammersmith tube stations, for so rock and roll is the place they have at least two that i am aware of. maybe more but i have only used the two, so i can only speak of them.

oddly, and this rather gives details of where and when i was away, whilst there in hammersmith i could have gone and seen eric clapton do a one off gig tribute to ginger baker. the tickets for this were a modest £750 at the cheapest, which i simply did not have to hand, or at all.

some rock myths and legends are truly baffling. in regards of clapton, i have heard several stories of him apparently throwing his guitar down in disgust as some other guitarist was better than him. usually it is hendrix cited, but there have been others. why the pick on clapton for these tales is rather unclear, even if he was for some reason a trifle miffed that hendrix appeared to be a better guitarist than him then surely this is not a small number of people for which this is true.

yes, well done for scrolling down and finding a picture in which i, me (moi) does not feature. once again it does feel somewhat like any commentary i could add in words is superfluous or just plain unnecessary, but sure, that is a statue of Monty.

no, not Monty Python or Full or any other Monty other than Viscount Montgomery. one of the men and women who led us to victory in the war, and secured our freedom. a freedom which some, of course, choose to be critical of those who led us to victory, but that is what freedom is. the ability to say what you will. you just have to accept there are consequences for what you say.

speaking of which, Sir Winston, who is in the statue above. a rather strange thing. in these enlightened, informed times, where perhaps there is some distance from events and none of us can really comprehend it all, there are those who suggest that Sir Winston was some form of war criminal, that he was a bad man. going on various reliable accounts, he was a questionable man in a personal capacity, for sure. but he stood up against tyranny and vowed to defend freedom to the death when so many were pressuring him to capitulate. i am not a clever person so do not know exactly what the word means, but i suspect it is ironic that Sir Winston is the one who led the way to assure people had the freedom to call him whatever they so wished to.

any other statues in and around london? goodness me, yes, lots of them. some of them will feature below, of course. if you are not all that keen on statues, then, you may want to give the rest of this something of a miss.

yes, the reason i have included the above is because of the manner in which it has been defaced. them twats off of "extinction rebellion" went right ahead and carved their odd, peculiar, wonky egg timer logo on it. i am sure they feel justified in doing so, due to whatever it is them what did this statue did to destroy something they have a passing value for, or stole dreams, or what have you.

did i by any chance once again go past the magnificent statue of Madiba? why yes, of course, since i was there. no doubt, with the time that i had, if i wasn't right there then i would probably have made the effort to go.

this really is a superb statute, honouring a truly great man who very few are critical of in any substantive or objective way. should you be wandering around parliament square wondering where exactly this statue is, simply look for the biggest crowd, as normally that crowd is gathered around this Madiba statue.

how about a slight break from statues? i appreciate that they are exciting and interesting things, but there is only so much i can write of them in such a space. also, one or two of you in particular, i know, prefer (or have simply gotten used to) me going non-linear with things.

yes, the thames. it would be amiss, i suppose, for me to do any sort of sequence of posts on london and not have it feature. what with, you know, all the history, the iconic status and what have you.

i am reasonably sure (certain) that there is nothing i could say of the thames which is not covered in a much, much better way in the song Waterloo Sunset off of The Kings. a song which, for me, is the most beautiful, inspired homage to a place that i have heard. many will have a different song for a different place in mind, but there you go, that's the beauty of how we each experience music in our own ways.

again, sorry for not reversing (or "flipping") the picture, but for some reason it doesn't feel quite right when i do. maybe it is all that biology and perception stuff about how our vision actually works, i am not sure i didn't pay attention and it was quite a while ago that i was in such a class where i may have learned all about it.

there are a number of people who will need no clarification at all as to why i took the above. yes, indeed, i did just take a tube from where i wanted to be to tottenham court road just to take this picture. i then hopped back on the next one to be at where i wished. although of course i very much wished to be here.

why? more recently (as in the last 20 or 25 or thereabouts years) because in the fabulous Why Bother recordings, it is here that Sir Arthur went for a swim at the YMCA. but, more importantly, because that scene in An American Werewolf In London took place at this very tube station. and the image below, i think, was taken at the same.

now that i think on, perhaps i should do one of those infrequent "classic cinema" posts what i used to do on An American Werewolf In London. it is, after all, a masterpiece. debate to this day, for instance, remains over whether it is best to describe it as a comedy-horror or a horror-comedy. as it is in equal measure one of the most terrifying and funniest films you could see, there is no clear cut answer.

it was most ace to be able to have the time, and indeed opportunity, to visit this most celebrated of tube stations. on other visits to london i did not, for the most part, have the time to do so. well, on one visit i did, but it was closed for some maintenance work or something. but, made it there in the end. yes, i had been before, back in the 80s, on a school trip. maybe we attempted to recreate the scene out of An American Werewolf In London and perhaps we got knacked, both for doing it and for having quite intimate knowledge of a film we were too young to have seen at the time.

back to leicester square, then. i believe it was from there that i travelled up to tottenham court road and back for the above, so returning to the subject of the place now is, i guess, in a very real (or pretend) sense non non-linear.

to return to something else, in respect of the Why Bother recordings, i am, alas, unable to confirm what Sir Arthur said about crack cocaine being a lot cheaper in leicester square. cheaper than where, i do not know, as i have no idea how much the stuff costs. or where to get it. and it is not like anyone walked up to me and said "hello there, how would you like to buy some crack?". or maybe they did but i did not hear them.

yes, a return to statues too. this one is indeed, if for some reason not clear, of william shakespeare, and is of course to be found in leicester square. presumably, or it is nice to know, that bill shakes was quite the admirer of leicester square too.

auberon waugh once wrote something along the lines of how william shakespeare was the shadow under which all other English writers wrote. whilst auberon was known to be quite mischievous in what he wrote from time to time, perhaps not so here. it's all eye of the beholder, etc, in terms of what anyone thinks makes the "best" of anything, but foolish it would be to suggest that many if any hold his influence.

for those who have not encountered the spear of shake and thus do not believe they are aware of his influence or shadow, think not such. his plays have provided the very basic structure for any narrative since, with particular emphasis on how stories are told in films.

i cannot for any reason think of why one would want, wish for or need a selfie of me (moi) before the statue of shakespeare, but should i be wrong (frequently, i am), there you go above.

are there any other statues in the leicester square part of leicester square? yes.

there be the most splendid one of charlie chaplin for you. which, as point of fact, from what i can remember (at least), is the only other statue i saw.

make no mistake, and don't get me wrong (actually you can if you so wish), the idea of a chaplin statute is a really splendid and ace one. it's just that if they are going to go full tilt and have statues of celebrated actors (presumably of an English or perhaps British heritage), then why just charles "charlie" charles, and not some of the others.

in days gone by, and i speak of the 80s and early 90s here, one saw people stood around in leicester square dressed in all sorts of costumes, or done up as clowns. from what i remember, and this could be wrong, a condition of joining an actors' union (probably equity) was having to perform for x amount of hours in public. standing around dressed as a clown for a few hours in leicester square would tick that box.

no, that is not quite what i was doing in the above picture, but if any sort of actors' union card turns up in the post as a consequence i shall be sure to let you know.

would that now be "it" for updates from leicester square? kind of, sort of, yes. rather than take the tube, or spend an enormous sum of money on one of them "cheeky" black london cabs, i strolled from leicester square towards piccadilly. which meant a walk past chinatown.

the people what do the news and that had reported chinatown had been all but abandoned, due to fear over this coronavirus thing. from what i recall they even had footage of that nice jeremy corbyn bloke stood there all alone. going on what i could see, perhaps that image of jeremy was one rather like that time he did that thing where he sat on the floor of a train a while ago.

did i not have any fears or concerns surrounding possibly catching or being infected with this splendid virus? partially, i suppose. you have to remember by this stage it was so that my kidney (or kidneys, i suspect one has two) had went f****d, so it wasn't all that much of a risk. besides, who knows, every cloud, etc, so maybe coronavirus fixes kidney(s) issues whilst killing you.

but i did not dwell in chinatown too long. certainly not long enough for anyone to approach me about something what Spiros told me one of his business associates told him. apparently, according to him, one can briefly employ a lady in chinatown to do a sort of "job" with her "hand" for the fee of £5. this claim is one that i am tres skeptical of, for i find it very hard to believe that anything in london can be obtained for a fiver or less.

piccadilly, then, with the welcoming site of the eros statue. quite strange, once again. what with it being rule under the English way of doing things that we are expected to be prudes, and all shy and coy and not interested in that sort of thing that we should then go and prominently erect a statue to the god of passion and physical desire. very much that sort of thing.

generally, i do like being here (there) in piccadilly, near or around the statue. maybe that's because i most certainly do not hide away from my enjoyment, appreciation and delight of that sort of thing, who knows (or cares). however, on this instance there were quite a few buskers setting up, playing and trying to sell discs, so i moved on. well, yes i listened for a bit and most were smart, but i wished to have some dinner, and get to Fortnum & Mason.

but of course i did pause to pose for a selfie by the eros statue, as seen above.

any regrets or wishes unfulfilled from my trip to london? well, there are one or two friends i have down there that i don't seem to get to see when i go. also, briefly, i considered going somewhere random, like high wycombe or similar, for a coffee or something. doing so, however, would have taken away time that i could spend in Fortnum & Mason, and indeed with my chum Spiros.

phew. more or less all done, then. if for some reason you felt a need to read all (or most) (or even just some) of this, many thanks indeed.





be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

tales of the test card

hello there


it is so that there are things which were once and now shall be no more, look you see. many accepted facets (or aspects) of our life have irreconcilably altered, changed or gone. sometimes this is for the better, in a few instances we have subconsciously agreed to pretend it is for the better, in some cases it has been to our detriment.

where, exactly, the fall from our screens of the bbc test card resides on such a scale is a matter of personal opinion. there are, for instance, many who knew not that such a thing even existed, born as they were in a time when twenty four hour (party people) broadcasting was a given, meaning they never ever experienced a "shutdown" of a tv channel.

ostensibly the test card page was less about simply filling the void at times when the bbc simply could not be bothered to broadcast anything, more about assisting operators of television reception units. whereas now we simply plug in a tv and it works (or it does not), then it was far more complex. a television set was a highly sophisticated, military grade piece of equipment. one had to calibrate it quite like them radar things they used to check on commies sending missiles our way. you had to adjust the vertical hold, the horizontal hold, the colour balance or the monochrome settings on each use. for this, the test card was of benefit.

something that i briefly considered was adding a video of the test card here. many of you quite like it when there is a video (oooh, have we got a video), and it is an absolute pleasure to bring such to you, thank you for visiting and reading. but then it occurred to me that doing so was a rather silly (no doubt greta upsetting) waste of resources, for it would be a video file of a still image. or, indeed, would it be so?

there shall be no surprise in me saying that many (several) theories exist about the test card. some might well call these "conspiracy" theories, but i have no comfort in using this phrase, or term in association with the test card. rather, i feel, it is that a number of ambient theories exist in association with it.

having, over time, looked at various other (similar) theories, such as that of the thirteenth episode of Fawlty Towers and the secrets of Bullseye, i see no reason at all not to delve into this particular mystery. although the (apparent) absence of John Cleese, the Spanish and His Excellency Jim Bowen just might make this all less glamorous.

the girl in the test card was at our school / the girl in the test card was the sister of someone at our school / the girl in the test card was the mother of someone at our school

and so forth with such combinations and permutations. in quite an accidental and unforeseen consequence of the bbc using this particular image for the test signal, so it was that the young lady featured in it could claim to have the most minutes, hours or weeks on broadcast television of anyone, even more that Bruce "Brucie" Forsyth.

it may at times feel like a new phenomenon, what with instantwittergrambook follows and likes being so important, but let it be said that clutching at even the most tenuous link to fame and recognition has always been an aspect of human nature. well, at least here, yes, it is very much a part of the English way of doing things. with this in mind, then, someone somewhere did state one of the phrases above of the girl featured in the test signal, and they were correct. however, not everyone who did so was right, and was the case of every single school in the land having at least one person claim this as being the case.

more recently, with our (admittedly) increasingly celebrity focused thinking, claims have been made that the test card girl was actually Adele's mum or grandma. this is born from a passing physical resemblance, certainly, but more of our willingness and desire to underline how awesome we think Adele is, irrespective of whether her most recent album is or is not about being quite angry with a gent.

the reason these theories were able to flow was via the genius of selection. a model was chose who was imbued with a key, unique sense of "anonymous familiarity", which by no means is disparaging. she came to represent all children, and was immediately recognisable to all, and that is how come so many believed they knew her.

as to who the model in the test card really was, well, that to this day remains a closely guarded secret, known only to a chosen few in an elite circle of power, and indeed anyone who cares to do one of them google searches on the matter and find the answer.

it was a real game of noughts and crosses being played, with different moves being shown at different times

perhaps this is one ambient theory about the bbc test card which would have benefited from some video. however, to prove or disprove it, well, it is so that one would reasonably be expected to go through hundreds of hours of footage to see if any alternate moves were really taken. if you believe that i have access to that much footage, or am interested in looking at hours of it, regrettably you are quite mistaken.

for clarification, yes, to our friends in america, and indeed nations where the names of things have been influenced by american culture, the game you see which has the proper name of noughts and crosses is indeed what you for some reason call 'tic tac toe'. i have no idea why you do so, but bless you all the same for the creativity.

it is entirely possible that there was an actual game of noughts and crosses being played across the broadcasts of the test card. as we shall see a little later, the test card did, after all, change from time to time, for debatable reasons. but, really, you have to ask who is it that would have had such power to command that their game of noughts and crosses was broadcast to the nation, in secret, and for what reason, exactly, would they do so? understanding such is beyond my level of comprehension.

the spooky scary mildly disturbing clown puppet or stuffed toy is an effigy of Sir Jimmy, made by Sir Jimmy himself

quite a controversial aspect to the whole bbc test card thing, this is. i must tread with exceedingly cautious caution, then, for there are many unproven yet perfectly viable allegations against Sir Jimmy and his activities at the bbc. and beyond, with apparently any number of hospitals, rest homes and indeed morgues benefiting from his patronage.

not that i have done any great research into the matter, but all the same i am unaware of Sir Jimmy ever having a proclivity to make either effigies, dolls or similar in his own likeness. it is possible that he did so, but i have no knowledge of such. were i pressed on the subject, i could totes see him at some stage commissioning a big massive golden statue of himself (perhaps to be placed on bbc grounds, or at a suitable hospital, rest home or morgue), but that is about it, really. mostly it seems his ego impulses in this respect were sated if not satisfied by having those who pleased him or who he pleased wearing a "jim fixed it for me" medallion of pride or shame, depending on how your perspective is.

overall, i believe that this claim about the clown doll can be if not dismissed then prescribed as a case of pareidolia. that is the posh term for "seeing faces in things", like when people claim that they see the visage of the baby jesus, or virgin madonna, in wood, pieces of toast or clouds. you see the face there because someone has told you that such is what you are looking at.

secret messages were transmitted to secret government agents through the bbc test card

this one goes back, in part, to the noughts and crosses (or if you insist tic tac toe) theory. giving some plausibility, and perhaps another angle, on that, we know that the test card was changed from time to time, and such change was signified by a different letter appearing below the picture of the child, the clown and the game. the questions prompted by such, then, is why was there a change? so far as i am aware the basics of the test card were not changed, only the letter below the circle and possibly the noughts and crosses board.

we have to be careful not to confuse yesterday with today. now, in 2020, there is of course an apparent drive by our government to dismantle the bbc, either out of revenge for their bias or because large swathes of the population have grown tired of their bias, depending on your political outlook (indeed perspective). in years gone by, though, governments found the bbc to be a useful tool in sending covert messages. usually this was in time of war, when bbc broadcasts were used to both transmit secret instructions to our forces and mislead the enemy with false information.

if it is so that the change of letter (and possible change in the noughts and crosses game) were secret messages, then it provokes the question of who (whom) was sending them, to whom (who) and to what end? an exciting thing to speculate is that they are all to do with secret government agent types, and that the messages were instructing James Bond types to proceed with doing stuff like poisoning the wells of our enemies, or stop mad boffins from creating a race of super humans in space, or similar. it is worth noting that, as far as i am aware, no James Bond film has ever been broadcast on the bbc, which might be deliberate to avoid drawing attention to it all, rather than just how itv happened to pay for the rights before anyone at the bbc thought to do so.

right, well, i suspect that the above is all that is appropriate for me to say on this particular subject. and one or two of the things i have written may well exceed such a mandate. no matter, for now it has been done. i can only hope, or trust, that any of the information here has been useful or beneficial to you, and is such that you have used purely for good.




be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

mediocre reading

hi reader


well, some more reading, then. it pains me to do this, look you see. the title really pretty much (more or less) says it all about the two novels i have read, but in general i dislike speaking ill of novels. anyone who has gotten so far as to have a novel published has done considerably better than i ever have, if that is a measure of success. which i think it is. so, mostly, i feel quite bad speaking poorly of such an achievement. yet, or also but, if a reading experience turns out to be not as good as one had hoped, there is little (no) sense pretending otherwise.

as usual at such a time of writing this kind of post, i have read not just one, but also not as many as three, four or six novels, but two further since the last time. in this instance, they were books i carefully selected on the basis of being "not bothered" about them, as i took them to read on my travels to london (and back). for some reason i have this inexplicable fear of taking a book that i actually want to read on a journey, in case i really get into it and somehow manage to misplace or lose the book. so, with me i take something that might be all right to read, but shall cause me no sorrow if it were to be misplaced.

to bring this sort of book "review" (or comment) style post back to some sense of normality, then, a look at the two what i read, followed by a brief, spoiler free overview of each.

i was drawn to The White Road by the fact that it was cheap, appeared to be presented in an easy on the eye font, and looked vaguely interesting. this actually wasn't too bad, in truth, but it takes its time to labour to a rather specific point whilst ignoring a much bigger observation it seems to make by accident and as an aside. yes, Nick Carter The Cobra Kill got bought because it looked like preposterous yet exciting rubbish. to this end, an instance of being able to judge a book by its cover. 

right, then, be warned. i shall take my usual care in not doing so too much, but from here on out please consider that a *** SPOILER WARNING *** of many (two) a splendid colour is decidedly here and in place. 

starting where i did (which was reading it on a train bound for that king's cross place) is to first have a look at, or consideration of The White Road by someone called Sarah Lotz.

provenance of my copy? well, as you can kind of see, it was all of £1 from The Works shop. yes, as per the last post, The Works is quite a nice place to pick up novels of ok quality for £1 a go.

the plot of The White Road? well, it starts with a young adventurous type of lad called Simon goes off potholing in a prohibited area with a drunken, mentally unstable ex soldier. just why would he do such? as it turns out, three lads did exactly that a little while ago, and got killed doing it. their bodies were never recovered, so Simon (and i am resisting the urge to call him Simes, yes) is off to go and film them so him and his mate (whose name escapes me) can put the footage on their internet website thingie, and make lots of money. this really, really good idea does not, surprisingly, turn out anywhere near as simplistic or as straightforward as presumed. but, in a money way, actually the net result is a success, so they have another good idea. which is for Simon to "blag" his way onto an expedition to climb Mount Everest, just so that he can take images and footage of the many bodies left unclaimed there.

saying that this novel is the single most ridiculous one to feature a famous mountain at the heart of its plot since Trevanian's The Eiger Sanction is either an understatement or a sign that i do not read too many novels with such a weirdly specific sense to them. whilst understanding yes, this is fiction, there is rather too much asked in terms of suspension of disbelief to accept a lot of the premise. i know not much of mountaineering, but i do know that it is notoriously difficult to get permission to attempt Everest, and one simply couldn't just make up a story of other mountains climbed to get on a trip to have a go.

a frustration here is that there is such a better novel hidden in the book. the "friendship" Simon forms on the mountain, leading to an implausible and contrived conclusion, for instance, and the whole concept of how this thing that is "the internet" is yet another conduit which proves that "death sells", are just pushed to the side. hey ho.

there was one really, really good line in the novel, mind. something along the lines of the dead don't haunt us, we haunt the dead. however, i suspect it is not original to this novel, as it was given in italics as such. but still, a good line to read.

would i in any way, shape or form recommend this novel to anyone? i cannot really work out or consider circumstances in which that would happen, in truth. there just isn't enough here for it to work as a ghostly gothic "supernatural" haunting book, and it just asks far too much of a reader to accept it as a more conventional, straightforward novel.  by no means was it a pain or burden to read, it just could have been considerably better and given the reader a good deal more.

my motivation for purchasing The Cobra Kill is probably all right there on the cover for you. it looked quite exciting, as did the other Nick Carter novel what i bought at the same time. what i did not know at the point of purchase was that it is not Nick Carter is the writer, but the character or if you will, to give this more gravitas than is perhaps warranted, protagonist.

some research after the fact suggests that Nick Carter books are both prolific and popular. it is so that somewhere north of 250 "novels" featuring the character exist, and they seem to fetch a decent price on that ebay thing and other, similar selling places. well, a higher price than what i paid.

on that note, the much celebrated provenance of my copy. as i was looking for something cheap and disposable to read on the train (or on my train journeys) i consulted the charity book sales which most supermarkets now seem to have set up. this, and another Nick Carter novel, were sat there, so i picked up both of them, donating the recommended 50p per book indicated next to the honesty box. i believe it was last year or the year before when i took a similar tome on holiday with me, but it was not a Nick Carter adventure. at the very least, i do not believe or think that it was.

is there any sort of plot? oddly yes. a needlessly intricate and involved one, which gives way to quite a preposterous one, but also one which ends up making some form of inevitable sense. as it turns out, this Nick Carter fellow is a "killmaster" agent for some organization called axe. he gets called in by various governments and what not around the world to kill troublesome people and ensure world peace. in this instance he is contacted and brought in to kill someone called the red cobra, who the malaysian government want dead because he is communist and is threatening the tourist trade. so off goes Nick, or Agent Carter, to kill this chap, who (the red cobra) it turns out is off on quite the mission of his own, and note the spoiler warning above, as he is seeking out a sunken japanese submarine on the off chance that there is loads and loads of gold out of a snake temple hidden in it.

does it happen to be the case, you ask, that there is a reasonable amount of trashy sex and violence in this book, making it all a sort of quasi American "homage" to James Bond, whilst retaining some sensibilities of "traditional" American pulp fiction? pretty much, yes. rather handily, whoever had my copy prior to me circled all the pages on which Nick Carter "gone done a sex", as you can see in the image added.

any good? begrudgingly yes. i mean, i read this both whilst on my travels and whilst battling with all this rather painful kidney infection business, which is what the doctor assures me it is and nothing more sinister than that, yet. the "novel" runs for around 160 pages or so, so mostly skips anything like detailed character development or deep plot exploration. put it this way, it is never boring. it's all lowest common denominator stuff, and i am certainly not going to pretend that i am not interested or entertained by a spell of gratuitous sex and violence once in a while.

no doubt at some stage i shall read the other one i picked up, whatever it is called. this one was read first as the publication date suggested it came out first, although i suspect they are the kind of books which make no difference what order you read them. from there it shall be off to ebay with them for a modest but not obscene profit, and i doubt i shall buy more due to the cost they generally seem to go for. but, if i stumble on more on my travels, you never know.

well, there you have it. two novels (of sorts) which effectively did all asked, namely keep my mind occupied as i travelled, and then as i battled some weird kidney infestation. i have no regrets for reading either, but also cannot quite bring myself to recommend them to others. well, yes, sure, i can with the Nick Carter one, i suppose, if i do end up listing it for sale.

my apologies to any Nick Carter acolytes, fans, aficionados, groupies or similar who have taken any form of distress at my apparent ignorance of his realm. whereas no offence is ever intended here, such things happen, and if we are honest any appeal to the books exists in the fact that they are pure trash.

not sure this is ever the case, but hopefully something in this somewhere has been of some use or interest to someone somewhere.



be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i love the nightlife, i got to boogie

hey there


some more images from my most recent of visits to that there london place, then, look you see. indeed, it was so that i was there for barely 48 hours (give or take), yet it would appear that my snap happy ways have made it possible to milk the journey for several posts.

for this update, or post, or simple inane meanderings, i thought i might bring together all the images what might show off what one could do on a night in london. or, in some cases, not do in london, for a couple at least appear to be remnants of that which are no more. should that make little sense, well, that i would think is standard for here, and perhaps it shall as we go.

be warned, though. predominantly it is so that i, me, moi, feature in these images, taken as they are in a "selfie" type of style. well, it was my trip and it is my blog, so such is surely expected. just don't complain that you were not given fair warning if you proceed. and since you are already here reading this i suppose you might as well.

yes, the Raymond Revue Bar. whereas one can say of the Electric Banana don't look for it; it's not there anymore, strangely the Raymond is there but it is not. whereas it closed down some 16 years or so ago, the signage remains, on day and night, acting if you will as a beacon or magnet for what was once and what may be again.

a respectful visit to the grounds that were once (and appear set to always be) the Raymond Revue Bar was made just south of five years ago, of course, to be sure. it was then and there (here?) where i made a very good friend indeed, with the details being just a click of this link away if for some reason you are interested.

what, exactly, for those who do not know, was the Raymond Revue Bar all about? in short, and to be blunt, that sort of thing. a big part of the English way of doing things is for the powers that be, the ruling classes, to create a woeful sense of shame and guilt about all things remotely sexual in nature, seeking to make it so that we, the people, believe that sort of thing, the pleasures (or sins) of the flesh being immoral and to be avoided. so of course we resist by seeking out all sorts of sexual odyssey adventure things as and where we can at any opportunity, since those in control seek to cease such.

for many, then, the Raymond Revue Bar was the personification of such resistance and retaliation. it was, i believe (correct me if wrong) the first such establishment where one could see fully nudie ladies on stage in any sort of legal capacity. you know, the kind of thing that most other "free", western countries have available with no particular thought or consternation. oh, no, not us English, about such we have to waffle and have a scene and decry moral bankruptcy and society falling apart when anything more fleshy than an ankle or the occasional wrist is on display.

there are several legends of patrons at the Raymond. i would have absolutely no idea how true any of what is spoke is, for i never had the pleasure of attending. tales i have heard include how in some instances admission was "free", subject to patrons agreeing to a two drink minimum purchase. with each drink costing at the cheapest, say, £50 a go. this legend is often followed with tales of patrons who felt aggrieved by such terms, and sought to remonstrate their displeasure. such was met with an informal but overall conclusive explanation of the rules by some of the most formidable door staff (there purely for the "safety" of guests) london has ever known, which in turn was usually followed by guidance on the nearest place to seek the medical attention now so obviously required.

just what ended the reign, or era, of the Raymond Revue? it is not quite so simple as to say "the internet", but this is a start. with the free flowing filth of the internet, and the considerably more "liberal" approach encouraged to matters of censorship by PM Tony Bliar in the late 90s, it was almost all of a sudden all right in England to confess that that sort of thing was actually not so bad.

so, a lot of posh, gentrified, "acceptable face" type of places which offered what Raymond Revue did cropped up, squeezing the market. for some reason people flocked to the flashier type of offering rather than the original classic. maybe it was important to members of the gentry to be seen as to not support the sordid past, just the sordid present respectability.

did i, on my trip to london, pop in (so to speak) at the platinum lace, or any such similar gentleman club? no. other than such having quite limited interest, my finances were not up to the requirements of such entertainment. also, at this stage, my kidney was proper knacked. i would have been uncomfortable as it was being out and sitting in such a place, and i do not believe getting a f*****g good kicking off of the staff when it was clear that i could not meet their (by london standards) agreeable pricing would have done it any good at all. or them, if we as humans have more than one kidney and it is so that not just one of mine is knacked.

what of the traditionally more acceptable public auditorium to see squalid, filthy things? as in, the cinema? yes, i did indeed stop off by "the big one" at leicester square.

that's the odeon, leicester square. so far as i recall, and i think the sign is saying such, when they have all of them big massive "royal premiere" of films and that, here is where it happens. actually, should i remember right, they even do the big premiere things here without members of the royal family present.

yes, indeed, as you can sort of see in the reverse image above, the major motion picture, or main feature, what they had on at my time of visit was the superb 1917. if for some reason you want my thoughts on the movie in some detail then go right ahead and click here. the short version would be yes, 1917 was a truly excellent and astonishing movie, and this Parasite thing what battered it at the Oscars must be incredible.

for those who would prefer to seek entertainment to be enjoyed at home, well, in this glorious new age that is rather tricky. sure, you can "stream" various services, but in my experience of the london, internet speeds are woefully slow, so i would imagine that is quite frustrating. one cannot pop out and rent a video no more, yet where you once could still remains.

i find it fascinating that the people cry and complain of how overcrowded london is, how there is no space, and yet there still stands a former Blockbusters store. on chiswick high street, no less, which i am assured is one of the single most desirable places in the london. nothing i personally saw convinced me of this being the case, but if someone has spoken such then it must be true.

this particular former Blockbusters holds a special place for my chum Spiros. it was here he met (and befriended) a chap who had opted for the homeless lifestyle. his approach to life, one of drinking cheap cider, fighting with people and soiling his trousers, was one that Spiros yearned for. wanting to do something to assist, Spiros gave his chum a pair of scissors, and encouraged him to offer to cut people's hair for them, for £1 a go. so far as i am aware this was a success, and the chap is now a multimillionaire stylist, with many of the rich and famous seeking his services.

of course that was back in a more innocent time, prior to london becoming "stab central" under the current, incompetent mayor. back then people were free to carry around scissors and other such sharp objects, gifting them as they saw fit, with no fear of recrimination. that all changed, for the worse, the moment london replaced a proper mayor in the form of boris with the current one, who got the job on the sole basis of not being zac goldsmith.

many thanks indeed to Private Eye for the well known summary of just how little an achievement it is to go right ahead and win an election where all you have to be is not be zac goldsmith. perhaps the standard in place for the next mayoral election will be somewhat higher, and the result better for all concerned.

but, enough of that, for now, and back to kind of what was the point of this post. if, indeed, or as point of fact, there is some sort of point.

yes, there i am, stood before one of the many famous "west end" venues that have all them posh, fancy shows and what have you on. no, i did not go and see one. it would have been nice to, certainly, but such entertainment tends to be expensive, and requires one to book many weeks, if not months or years, in advance.

have i ever experienced the thrill, the buzz and the excitement of a show in london? most assuredly. on school trips i went and saw Chess and Time, and both were great. favourite of all, though, was Buddy, what i went and saw with Dad. a most excellent show, and one i would love to see again. with Dad, if possible.

one thing that all can agree on, perhaps (maybe), is that london is both gifted and blessed in having many, many opportunities by which one can rid themselves of all their money. whereas spending it, or using it, for anything related to that sort of thing mostly remains frowned upon, strangely gambling is quite normalised, both in london and across the land.

there i am outside the famous and celebrated hippodrome, a casino where undoubtedly one or two have coined it in, whereas several hundreds (thousands, maybe) have gambled away money which they could either ill afford to, or was not theirs to do such with.

saying there is a "gambling culture" across England (maybe the whole of the UK) is a bit of an understatement. normally, on evening television, all of the commercial breaks are dominated by adverts for gambling concerns, often featuring endorsements by what counts as "household names" these days, making it all seem quite normal.

with some wisdom, a friend once said to me in passing that "gambling is perfectly fine, so long as the only money you use to do it is money you are happy to lose". simple but true. to this end, my life as a gambler is limited to that one pension scheme called the "national lottery", supplemented every now and then with a 25p bet on getting 20 football scores right. maybe i am part of the problem, then.

no, i did not go in the hippodrome, or this casino at the Empire in leciester square, or any casino, thank you. my instinct would be to absolutely baulk at the presumed minimum stake one could lay out in such a place, no matter how many shiny things were waved as being possible to win.

from what i recall, it was the Empire pictured above where me and my mate Payney went and saw Cape Fear, quite a few years ago now. 28, i suspect is the total. my memory is not to be trusted on such, but i do not recall them having the imax and the casino at the time. it was an era when cinemas just showed films, in truth, and did not seek to relentlessly "upsell".

right, then. it would appear that what i have done here is show you moi stood before some places that i did not actually enter, or become a patron of. oh. well, anyway, maybe some of it has been interesting to someone, even if just in passing or by accident.




be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

just another commodore 64 mode car wash escapade

hey there


really just a post which does that what is said on the box, or if you like in the title. with the latter being more accurate, look you see, since there is no such packaging as a box with this.

once again, then, i find myself writing the (probably quite tiresome) same thing as usual here. everything which i could say of any reasonable interest on the subject of images from a car wash presented in Commodore 64 mode was comfortably covered in the very first such instance of me doing it.

maybe it is the shading, or other such dynamics, of a car wash when presented in glorious Commodore 64 mode which holds all the appeal for the select number of you what seem to like these things. whereas i would say that i am neither artistically gifted or knowledgeable, that one about, showing as it does the entrance to a car wash, is a bit on the striking side.

do i ever, if you are wondering (probably not), ever go through a car wash and not record it, for posterity or what have you, in Commodore 64 mode? as it happens, yes i do. there is every chance i am mistaken, but i believe that i have used such a facility twice since these images were taken. on neither such occurrence (if there were two) did i have any sense of obligation to record the moments.

yes, once more that is the start, or the commencing, of the car wash as seen from behind. someone had got to the facility before me, so whilst i waited for them as they waited for the car wash mechanisms to do their thing it felt like a good idea to capture the moment with one of them "animated Commodore 64 mode" things that i believe are called GIFs.

do i know what a GIF is? that google thing says it means "graphic interchange format", but does not specify that they are animated like this one. presumably one can create or make a non-animated GIF thing, then, but for what reason one would do this i do not know.

that above indeed is one of them big massive (presumably) soft brush things, sweeping over or along or maybe across the left hand side of my vehicle, gently but firmly ensuring that it is cleansed. as far as i am concerned the results of the car wash were, in this instance, perfectly satisfactory and functional.

how important is it to get your car (or similar vehicle) washed on a regular basis? quite, really. before i did much in the way of driving i always assumed that regular car washing was really just for twats, to be honest, who liked their car being all shiny and that. as it turns out, regularly cleaned windows and mirrors tend to make being able to see stuff as you drive a good deal easier, and more agreeable.

woosh, goes the big massive brush thing in the image above, woosh all over the windscreen, spreading some soapy water so that one may see with most ardent clarity through it as and when they drive around. i am loathe to play favourites, but yes, i suspect the one above is now my "top one".

can, or may, one harness the benefits of using a car wash facility in helping stop the spread of all of this coronavirus business, or help end global warming for that matter? i have absolutely no idea. at a speculative guess, no, probably not. what i can tell you is that using a car wash appears to have no bearing on a kidney infection at all, for i had one, believed it had gone away with some pills off of the kidney mender, but now it is back. it would be churlish and unfair to suggest that using a car wash might have caused my plight with the kidney issue, especially as there is no rational evidence for such whatsoever, or at all.

for those of you who prefer a still image to the moving one, there you go. that is indeed the big fluffy brush thing what sweeps over the windscreen and that.

well, anyway, that's that. unless i end up dead by kidney infection, or dead by coronavirus, or something else, yes, i have every confidence that more car wash action in Commodore 64 mode shall feature here once again one day.




be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

once more to Fortnum & Mason

hello there



and so some more on my adventures in that there london place, look you see. yes, indeed, as the title gives every instance of indication, it was once more to my most favourite place in the whole of that fine, celebrated city. Fortnum & Mason holds a special, unique charm and attraction not solely for me but for many millions, but i can only speak of moi.

of course i called in, or popped by, Fortnum & Mason. invariably on any trip to london i would do so, but in this instance i so happened to be in the vicinity if not on then exceedingly close to my birthday, away from it in a time measured better in hours rather than days. so why would i not treat myself to some of the finest of excellence available to civilised society.

above are aspects of the items i purchased on this particular trip to Fortnum & Mason. these, and at least one other particularly fine provision, shall be explored in further detail below. to warn those who care not for such things, also below are a number of selfies, featuring moi, in and around the premises. if this is something that you have no wish to see, yet for some reason you care to read and consider what i write, then i have every confidence that you can scroll quite quickly past such images that cause such offence.

why the fascination and passion for Fortnum & Mason? over the last few years i feel that i have sufficiently expressed musings on this subject. but, for the sake of clarity whilst we are all here now, it is so that Fortnum & Mason exemplifies, indeed personifies, all that is good concerning the idea of the English way of doing things. do the finest possible and be the finest possible. this is their highly effective approach to any given matter, and reveals all that one may wish to know of any "secret" behind why they, as a provider of provisions, have existed, survived and flourished as a going concern for a good many more years than many countries in our world have even existed.

indeed, there i am, in full tilt "selfie" mode, hence it being a "reverse" image. partially i feel as though i am disrespectful to the name of Fortnum & Mason in not rotating or "flipping" the image, but for some reason it just feels correct and right to present it this way.

further, yes, once again i am wearing the Levis jacket what Zama got me off of a stall behind Jozi taxi rank many years ago. it remains perfectly serviceable, despite certain questions lingering in concern of its provenance and authenticity. perhaps at some stage i should invest in another jacket, but i am not convinced. wearing it on instances such as this feels very much like i am honouring a friend. there is also every chance that the entrepreneur who sold it to Zama (for a fee that just so happened to be exactly what i gave him, no change), is an avid reader of this blog, and takes some pride (perhaps satisfaction) in seeing where in the world a garment he sold ends up.

one major consideration in why Fortnum & Mason have flourished is that of how they have always set about things in a way which remains loyal to the values of Fortnum & Mason. but, let none speak any such ill that they do not have an awareness of external events, or accommodate such. which is exactly why one can, for a suitable seasonal period of time, purchase their special (and undoubtedly exquisite) Easter Blend tea.

did i by any chance elect to purchase some of this (and there can be no question of this being the case) finest of fine teas for Easter? alas, no. decorum and having an acute sense of perspective of my place in the world prohibited such. it was either £60 or (probably) £90 for one of these modest sized yet elegant tins of loose leaf tea. the message given by this sophisticated pricing was one which spoke of how if you were to consider the price of this item then it obviously was not meant for your consumption. undoubtedly the tea would have been far too fine and sophisticated for me, and so would have just been wasted on me.

with an unexpectedly significant amount of free time to spend in Fortnum & Mason, i took advantage. my sole priority for the day was to resolve matters at south africa house in respect of some passports. as this was achieved with (very) relative and (decidedly) comparative ease, it was my distinct pleasure to experience a rare sense of the freedom of being left to my own devices, to do that which would please me most. so yes, indeed, in the above image i am in one of the fine lifts (or elevator, if American) which Fortnum & Mason make available to select patrons.

to which levels did i go in the lift within Fortnum & Mason? very nearly all of them. i, in particular, went to the third floor, as that is where the gentleman's restroom facility is conveniently located for gentleman patrons who may care to wish to spend a penny, or are otherwise in urgent need of a gypsy kiss. oh yes, by my word, the restroom facility within Fortnum & Mason is one of the most remarkable to be found in the world. sadly, for you hoping otherwise, it felt exceptionally inappropriate to take any images of such, in particular with regards to ever present staff eager to assist being stationed there.

although rather (considerably) more famous for tea, it is so that Fortnum & Mason agree to meet requirements of all patrons, and so too sell coffee. pictured above are some examples of the coffee they sell. rather like the Easter Tea, in their wisdom it is so that they have carefully priced their coffee so as to alert people of an unsuitable class that it is not particularly intended for them. as the price of one superb jar of this coffee would cover the cost of regular, ordinary folk coffee for me for some two, perhaps three, months, i did not make a purchase on this instance.

on previous visits i had indeed experienced the privilege of purchasing their coffee. i bought one of their small, modest selection sets, priced of a fashion that only limited budget sacrifices needed to be made or were required. my experience of the coffee was that it was clearly intended for a quite different social circle than the one in which i am trapped, and so i have never felt any compulsion or need to explore such further.

go on then, another selfie. this is moi before one of the magnificent staircases, resplendent with superb bannisters and what must be the finest, most expensive carpet on which i have ever set foot. i appreciate that many (if not all) of you would have rather preferred a look in detail at what i describe, but what can i say, my blog so instead mostly it is a picture of me. someone somewhere must like such, i suppose. or presume.

it strikes me that i have given considerable time, and a straightforward to count number of words, discussing (and exploring) items at Fortnum & Mason which i did not purchase. perhaps now, at this juncture, or point, or moment, it is fitting, proper and appropriate to rather discuss items and provisions which i did, as point of fact, purchase.

the overwhelming majority of items i purchased are pictured above. for a broad overview of them, here you can see some fine Highgrove tea, which i believe is off of His Royal Highness Prince Charles. central in the image is a most agreeable sized packet of Fortnum & Mason's Afternoon Blend tea, which is splendid. finally, and by no means least, a most distinguished chalice, emblazoned with an image of the flagship Fortnum & Mason grounds, located in or on Piccadilly.

what sort of coin count did i opt to relinquish in return for these items? i suspect it would be uncouth and inappropriate to reveal precise figures. however, it could be said that i spent less than £1 per year that i have been on the planet, which when you place in such terms surely strikes one as being both reasonable and agreeable.

above is a jar of marmalade which i (fairly obviously) purchased at Fortnum & Mason. usually, or normally, it is so that i would purchase either one of their select set of three different marmalade varieties in a spiffing presentation pack, or would simply purchase one jar of Sir Nigel's special recipe marmalade. on this instance, what with it being quite near a birthday, i decided to embrace the much vaunted "yolo" approach of the youth of today (except Greta) and purchase one that i had not tried before. as you can undoubtedly see in the above, it was The Monarch marmalade which i purchased. more on this subject a little later.

perhaps, or arguably, one of the more interesting purchases i made (at least in the eyes of the more casual visitor here) would be that of the tea off of His Royal Highness Prince Charles. let me give some more detail on this for you, then, commencing with an image.

i am not sure if the above is all that clear, but you may all the same be able to detect that these are not what you would consider "normal" tea bags. no, far or quite removed from it. what one gets instead, then, are "silky" tea bags. as i am no fashionista or similar i could not say for certain, but i believe it is correct to say that they are indeed "silky" rather than allowing them to be described as "silk".

the cost of these fancy, silky teabags? once again i must insist that giving specific monetary amounts feels rather crass and uncultured. but, for those of a mind which shall not yield its inquisitiveness untl satisfied with some form of answer, i can confirm that the fee commanded by Fortnum & Mason for this is just south of the £10 price, for twenty bags reasonable and agreeable.

back, briefly, then, to The Monarch marmalade. whereas i had no regret of my purchase of this, there was some trepidation, or fear in me with regards to using it. the very name of this marmalade, and the text on the jar, did after all give every (possible) indication that it was intended for members of a social class far higher than mine. eventually, after a week or so, i did succumb and tried some.

it is perhaps best (or appropriate) to describe The Monarch marmalade as a most decidedly confrontational one. there is a very direct nature to the immediate taste, which is perhaps what one would expect. ruling monarchs do not have time to dilly dally with needless pleasantries, after all. yes, i rather like it.

let me return, then, to the (considered) matter of the silky tea off of His Royal Highness Prince Charles, and indeed my most splendid of things, the chalice of Fortnum & Mason. the consolidation of this particular tea with this particular device for consuming it represents one of the single most expensive cups of tea which i have had, if not  the most. although there was one incident at Heathrow in the 90s. again, it would be quite vulgar and crass to reveal (or otherwise discuss) the price of my most splendid Fortnum & Mason chalice, but it may be said that the price commanded for it was as point of fact south of £30. somewhat.

how did i find this tea? agreeable. it would be an act of indecent dishonesty to proclaim it to be the finest cup of tea which i have ever had. experience suggests that the very best cup of tea which anyone ever has is dictated as such more due to the circumstances in which they enjoyed it, rather than the content as such.

yes, William, a keen and ardent lover of tea, was permitted to have a sip, actually, he was encouraged to do so. as it turned out, he had a more forthright response. in his view it was little more than "just water with sugar added to it", and so soon thereafter he returned to the pleasantries of Yorkshire Tea.

every visit to Fortnum & Mason undertaken by me carries with it the possibility of it being my final such excursion. one would hope such a day would not come any time soon, but often these matters are beyond any and all reasonable control. with this being something which may be true of the visit, i made the very best i could of it all, engaging in conversation with the devout staff at all opportunities. they were all quite kind and indulgent with this.

one particular exchange resonates somewhat. as i approached a till to make good payment for my provisions, a fellow patron - a lady - approached from another side and sought to "cut in" before me. the representative of Fortum & Mason, a lady behind the till, made it sternly yet agreeably clear to this lady that she was in the wrong, and must proceed to the correct waiting point for her turn of service. it was so that this patron did as instructed.

under the terms of the English way of doing things i felt particularly awkward for my entirely innocent part in this. on approaching the till i spoke to the lady representing Fortnum & Mason, assuring her that providing service first to the other patron would have been acceptable. to this the lady said that there was a special layout to service and it must be adhered to. but she also commented that i am quite the gentleman for how i spoke, and expressed a view that my wife was a particularly lucky and fortunate lady. so far i have refrained from sharing this with my (considerably) better half, so as not to upset her or hear her laugh.

well, that would appear to feel to be it for this particular episode. certainly, to be sure, there are one or two further items from my most recent adventure in london that are worth comment, i will do what i can to share such here.





be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!