In the mid 70s, Group Captain Sir Douglas Bader visited the senior school my brother was educated at to give an informal talk on his exploits as a WW2 fighter pilot. The deputy head at that time was a WW2 veteran, and although I didn’t know it at the time of Sir Bader’s visit, when I reached the age to go up to the senior school, the deputy head spoke about that day and explained to everyone in assembly how privileged we should feel for having met the greatest fighter pilot the country had ever produced.

At the time of his visit, I was in the junior school that adjoined the senior school and we were all marched in a straight line to the assembly hall, where we took our seats. Of course, I had no idea of the significance of the event at the time, but thinking back, I recall the great man standing straight, hands on the waist high rostrum, speaking in a measured, authoritative but friendly manner. (I had no idea that he was standing on two false legs)

When I arrived back home and informed my mother who I had seen at school, she went on to tell me things that she had read about Sir Bader, adding Douglas cut a “Dashing” figure.

Over time, I eventually settled down to
watch the movie they made about the life of Douglas Bader called ‘Reach For The Sky” and became hooked on WW2 and the heroics of the people who won the battle over the skies of Britain in 1940.

Incredible bravery during a time of extreme adversity. They don’t make them like Douglas Bader any more.

Just a quick one. Today was supposed to be my day off work, indicated by the staff rota, which most working people plan their lifes around. So, 3.20 this afternoon I receive a phone call from the manager asking me where I am!

Obviously I tell her exactly where I am, sat in front of the TV at home. The manager insists I should be at work but I insist that according to the rota on my phone, I’m not down to work.

She, the manager, checks the rota again and confirms I’m supposed to be on shift 3 until 10.

It turns out that the rota was amended without actually informing the members of staff the changes directly effect!!

So, through no fault of my own, I arrived at work 1 hour and 45 minutes late.

Incompetence springs to mind and it completely effected the plans I had made for the afternoon. It also had an effect on my mood. I was ‘Down in the dumps’ for an hour but I’m ok now.

I’ve actually got time to write this very short rant.

Have a lovely evening.

I was 11 years old in 1977, the year of Queen Elizabeth II’s jubilee year, celebrating 25 years of ruling the UK and other commonwealth countries. Unsurprisingly, I knew very little about her in 1977 (I don’t know much more 42 years later)

I’m not a royalist, I never have been, I can’t see the point of a family living the high life with the help of my taxes (Which are extortionate by the way) but in 1977, when I learnt that the country was holding nationwide parties to celebrate her jubilee, I kind of became her biggest fan! (Thinking about it, the tax payers at the time actually paid for the parties they were planning to attend!)

Anyway, the local community, subsidised by the local authority, held a party for the kids in the area, (Of which I was one) and the more ‘Needy’ kids (Of which I was one) really looked forward to it. For me personally, it was actually the first party I had ever attended, and I don’t mind admitting that I couldn’t wait to gorge myself with cakes, jellies, sweets, biscuits and play games with music in the background.

The party took place in a local hall that doubled as a Baptist church at the weekends, but was mostly unused and empty throughout the rest of the week.

I remember the girl I had the hots for came to the party, dressed up like she had been invited to Buckingham Palace. She stood out like a large penis in a sea of chipolatas, but in my eyes, she was perfect. I ensured that I was eating directly across from her so I could watch her eat, occasionally chipping in with a comment that was intended to make her notice me and laugh. It didn’t work!!

So, I got on with the partying, skipping around the room with my mates and generally making a nuisance of myself with the remains of jam and cream cake stuck to my top lip.

However, the thing I remember most about that day was when the Queen and her entourage passed the crowds of people who had gathered to wave her by. Luckily, one of my friends at the time ‘Banno’ lived on a house situated by the main road that the Queen was passing along. It was a 3 storey, with a wide bay window directly under his bedroom window. So it was a case of climbing out onto the roof of the bay window to get a birds eye view, eliminating the problem of all the adults getting in the way with their oversized heads and shoulders.

We waited and watched, listening for the sound of the crowds cheering in the distance before we stood up and started waving our flags as the Queen was driven past.

I caught a glimpse of her hat and her hand doing that strange, circular wave. Then she was gone. That was it. Party over.

If only I had tried harder with my dream girl at the party, we could have watched her together as a newly formed couple!!

As I said, I’m not a royalist, but it’s a nice memory to have.

A quick one.

A labour candidate came knocking on my door a few days ago, obviously campaigning for the upcoming election.

I shook his hand (Very polite) and then he put a leaflet in my hand at the same time as introducing himself.

Without saying a word, I took the leaflet, leaned forward and put his leaflet back into his bag, saying “Not interested mate, you all piss in the same pot”. (Not polite)

He looked up at me, I’m 6-3, he was about a foot shorter and said “Fair enough “.

As he walked away I wished him a lovely day.

They’re all the same. Don’t trust any of them.

Yesterday, before my daughter and I went for drinks and dinner for her birthday, I made a phone call to cancel a mobile phone contract.

I thought it would take no more than 10 minutes, how wrong I was!

I hadn’t used the soon to be deceased number for over 6 months. Incredibly, had forgotten all about it after my daughter had bought me a new phone for my birthday. It was only after I had bothered to actually look at a bank statement (Shame on me) and saw the unfamiliar phone bill that it occurred to me that I was paying for a phone contract that had expired several months previously.

Unsurprisingly, I waited for 10 minutes (Online) before one of those keyboard warriors opened up a chat window. I stupidly thought discussing problems and queries online was the quickest, most efficient mode of communication!!

I was very, very wrong!

I was talking (Typing) to a chap (I think) trying to explain that I wanted to cancel my contract. Eventually, after several attempts, he/she understood.

This is how the ‘Conversation’ went.

Him/her: Can you confirm your name please? I answered.

Him/her: Can you confirm your email please?

Me: Yes of course, but don’t you have it on your system?

Him/her: Yes we do sir, but we just need to confirm you are who you say you are.

Eyes rolling, I typed in the answer.

Him/her: Can you confirm the phone number that we are talking about please sir?

Me: Bloody hell, hang on, I’ve forgotten it. It’s in my address book!

Him/her: No problem sir, take your time.

Me: Cursing trying to find it!

Eventually, I find it and type it in.

Him/her: Thank you sir, that is correct. Can you confirm the answer to your secret question please sir?

Me: What was the question?

Him/her: Your secret question sir, the one you gave when you started the phone contract.

Me: I can’t remember! It’s over 2 years ago. Hang on, bloody hell! Could it be my mother’s maiden name?

Him/her: I can’t tell you that sir, you could be another person sir.

Me: But I’ve already confirmed who I am!

Him/her: Yes sir, but we have to go through these questions because of data protection.

Me: Bloody hell, ok, try Wedgwood.

Him/her: That is incorrect sir.

Me: Bloody hell, is it my first dogs name, Benji?

Him/her: That is incorrect sir.

Me: Steam shooting out of my ears. Bloody hell, is it my grandsons name, Asti?!!

Him/her: That is incorrect sir.

Me: Bloody hell, I don’t know it, I can’t remember it!!!

Him/her: It’s fine sir, don’t worry, the system has locked you out for 30 minutes sir, for security reasons.

Me: What do you mean, don’t worry!! So I’m stuck in a contract for a number I haven’t used for at least 6 months?

Him/her: No problem sir, we just have to wait for 30 minutes so we can try again sir.

Me: Eyes rolling, teeth gritted, head turning purple. I haven’t got 30 minutes , I have a life to live!

Him/her: If you prefer sir, you can take photo ID into your nearest branch and they can help you sir!

Me: Bloody hell, ok thanks for your help!! (Eyes rolling sarcastically)

Him/her: No problem sir, have a nice day.

Clickkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk.

I have to admit, I laughed after we had stopped typing (I don’t know why)

Long story short, I took ID to the shop, and 1 hour later I was free from the shackles of an unused, defunct contract.

Never again!!

So today is my daughter’s birthday. I’m taking her for a few drinks and a meal.

Daddy daughter time

Love her lots

Question. Is anybody else having the same problem as me with WordPress!?

When I read a post and like it, then go back to the same post a little later, it indicates that I haven’t liked it.

I’m confused. Should I like it again or forget it ?

This is me way back in the summer during a Mexican themed evening with friends. I was pretty pissed after downing several tequilas.

Bring back the summer.

Way back in 2005, after being unceramoniously informed by my I.T. instructor that my spelling was atrocious, (He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t very tactful) I enrolled on an English Literature course at my local college. I wrote about this situation and the path it eventually sent me down in one of my first posts, but I didn’t go into the 9 month course itself.

Near the end of the course, I was asked to write a fictional story based on Bill Bryson’s great biographical novel ‘A Walk In The Woods’. The tutor asked me to write my own version of it, with the only acceptable similarity to the original being simply, a walk through the woods! I had never read anything Bryson had wrote, so I bought it and dived headfirst into it, and was instantly captivated with the author’s ability to transport the reader into his world.

I was happy and relieved that I didn’t have to try and replicate his greatest work (No chance anyway) but I was also a little flummoxed with how to set about my task. It was a few days before the deadline when I was talking to my mum about the members of her family that I had never met. All of my grandparents had died long before I was born, and most of my aunties and uncles. It was during our conversation that a lightbulb came on in my head. I decided right there and then that I would base my story around my personal journey through the woods, a walk that would be intermittently paused as I came upon different members of my family from the past.

I wasn’t sure about the way I would write it because at that time, I hadn’t found my literary voice (Still haven’t) and I didn’t have a writing style. It was strange because when I first started the course, all I intended to do was improve my spelling, improve the way I put my thoughts across and just pass the bloody thing. However, when I handed over that final piece to the tutor, I wanted more than that, I wanted him and the examining board to like it. I realised, all of a sudden, that I was driven to keep on improving, which really wasn’t like the happy-go-lucky, couldn’t care less man that had started the course.

I experienced contrasting feelings when I had finally found something that I love to do. I felt almost seperate from the person I had always been. I also felt isolated and thinking about it, I think I was able to put my feelings of isolation into the story.

Whether it was luck or just the right place right time for me, my tutor didn’t say anything to me the week after I handed my story over to him, he mearly nodded and winked at me.

I recieved my results through the post and managed to get an A star.

To celebrate my result, I packed a haversack with a few sandwiches, a flask of tea and armed with cigarettes, I took myself for a long, quiet walk through the woods (I know how to celebrate!)

In 1988, I worked as a dry stone Waller for Lord Longstone in the Peak District. To my memory, I can honestly say I have never worked in a place that was so beautiful and serene. Unfortunately, the work only took 7 months, but most of those days were spent working in glorious sunshine, breathing in clean, fresh country air. (In fact, compared to the odours I have to endure in my current job, breathing in methane from cow dung was like taking in the sweet smell of a rose)

The Peak takes on a life of its own during the summer months. I remember watching an old movie called Whistle Down The Wind, and one scene has always remained in my mind. The young chap in it lays down on the moors and, pressing his ear to ground, imagines he can hear the heartbeat of the moors. Now, I am not claiming I could hear the peaks heartbeat, but during the times where I found a quiet place, sitting in the bracken, looking down in the valley, it was surreal, I felt safe and peaceful surrounded by nature to think and bathe in the silence.

In 1988 I was still learning to drive so I, as well as 5 others, relied on a lift from the foreman in the works van. Sad though it is to admit, I can only remember 2 of the guys names who I worked with, Geoff and Tommy. I will explain more about their characters later in the post.

The working day scenario went like this. Travel to Great Longstone in the van about 6.30am. Arrive at the place of work about 20 minutes later. All climb out of the van and walk along a narrow dirt path for 5 minutes until we came to a wider opening, framed by thick trees and dilapidated, moss covered walls. We were meant to work for 9 hours with a 60 minute break and a couple of tea breaks in between during the day. I say ‘Meant’ because once the foreman had left the site we tossed it off. Working for 20 minutes, resting for 20 and so on. But we made great headway, so nobody was any the wiser and I think we made a damn fine wall (About a quarter of a mile long) because, 31 years later, the stretch of wall that we repaired and rebuilt still stands proudly against the winds and weather of the Peak District.

One of the guys who caught a lift with the rest of us, who’s name escapes me, started to bring his dog with him, a little Jack Russell and a narrow but long cage with a ferret in it! Once we had all worked for a couple of hours, he would lead his dog into the thick trees, carrying the cage, with a roll-up hanging out of the side of his mouth and reappear a couple of hours later with dead rabbits hanging from his belt. Eventually, after a few weeks of working together, myself and Tommy would accompany the rabbit catcher, all adorning camouflage trousers, all suitably decorated with a roll-up hanging from the lips. (Eat your heart out Peaky Blinders)

As for Lord Longstone, he would turn up in his extremely large off-roader every Friday morning with his Alsatian by his side. After the usual nod to his subjects, he would take a running jump and drop kick his new stone walls to test them for durability. (They withstood his attack) Then he would instruct his foreman to get some of the lads to load his trailer up with the fallen trees that were scattered around the area. The foreman himself was quite a character, always effing and blinding, but softly spoken with it. He was very proud of his son, who was in active service with the SAS. Although he knew very little about the things his son was involved in, he would visibly beam with pride when he spoke about him. And rightly so. We would only see him for a few hours a week, but on Fridays, he would stay with us and do some work, waiting for the Lord to make his appearance. An hour after the Lord had gone, he would take all of us into Bakewell to collect our wages and enjoy a couple of pints with us before taking us back to Chesterfield.

The foreman always, always drummed into us the importance of being careful when lifting some of the heavier stones. We found out why he was so keen on health and safety one Friday afternoon in a pub in Bakewell. Apparently, a guy who had worked for the Lord a few months previously had been involved in a terrible accident, caused by his own stupidity. This guy was very big and extremely strong. One of the men he was working with challenged him to move a millstone that was laying down amongst the rocks. The guy in question very stupidly took on the challenge, and actually moved the stone! Unfortunately, it fell back in his direction and severed the lower part of his leg! I’m not sure what happened to the guy afterwards, or if Lord Longstone was held accountable, but that was the reason for the constant health and safety speech.

Geoff, the guy I mentioned at the beginning of this post had, in the past, represented Great Britain in the sport of powerlifting. He was a warm, jovial sort of chap, always laughing, joking and ready to lend a helping hand whenever and wherever. I would often see him walking around the local town for a few years after we had parted company as pretend stone wallers. Unfortunately, he died a couple of years ago after suffering from a massive stroke. Rest his soul.

Tommy was diminutive In stature but blessed with sharp intellect. He had been a miner during the strikes of the late 70s, early 80s. Because he had a wife and children to support, he put their needs first and broke the picket lines. His house was bombarded with bricks, fencing posts and human excrement. He told me he found out who his true friends were. I admired his courage and tenacity. Quite a man.

Some of the other guys I worked with during that time, who’s names escape me, were characters in their own right, one day, I’ll write a post about them.