Friday, December 23, 2016



He was Lawless by name and lawless by nature,
Trouble, right from the start.
Hard as nails, running wild through the streets
He was breaking his poor mother's heart.
Nature played a trick on Lawless
And the humour of nature is cruel.
He grew up as we all had expected
Into a dangerous fool.

He was a hard man, a man for all seasons,
Always out for a fight.
He couldn't hold drink but still he'd get plastered
In Clarke's every Saturday night.
He'd strip to his vest and challenge the best
Till the Gards they were called to come fast.
Then they'd lock him away for the rest of the day
And let him out on a Sunday for Mass.

One night he went down to the Ringsend Regatta
Where he met up with the bould Dolly Glass.
She wasn't exactly what you'd call beauty
But she was the belle of her class.
There was a whirlwind romance and Dolly took a flier
With Lawless she would settle down.
It was pure coincidence three months before
There was a Yankee destroyer in town.

The couple were blessed with one of God's miracles
Before six months had elapsed.
Dolly gave birth to a nine-pound black baby
And Lawless was fit to collapse.
She swore she'd nivver been touched by another
And Lawless took her at her word.
And the neighbours exclaimed, "He's the spit of his father!"
And the cuckoo's a wonderful bird.

Now Lawless stayed home to look after the family,
While Dolly went out for the night.
The ould gossips all say, "She's free in her ways."
And their evil rumours run rife.
When Lawless heard this he waited for Dolly
On the bridge where the river runs low.
No-one will ever know what happened next
But Dolly drowned in the water below.

Some say he's evil, some say he's crazy,
Everyone says that he's mad.
No-one would defend him, he was no angel
But I'll tell you he wasn't all bad.
They locked him away for the rest of his natural,
Never again will he see,
That at the back of Ringsend there's a lonely child playing
Where the Liffy runs into the sea.

Monday, December 19, 2016

Galway Bay

Sung to the tune of Galway Bay.

If I ever go back home again to Ireland,
I wonder what Jackie's going to say.
She's got me half demented with her nagging,
And she's got a mouth as big as Galway Bay.

Ha Ha Ha,
I just come out with them you know.

This is my Christmas story

This is my Christmas story.
Sixty-one years ago today, my brother Jimmy was about ten days old and I was coming up to nine next week. My mother was bathing the baby in one of those old fashioned baths in front of the fire and when she was done she handed him to me sitting on the armchair.
"Here," says she. "Keep hold of him while I empty the bath."
So I took hold of him and went "Goo goo goo."
The little bastard pissed all over me and he has been pissing on me ever since!"
This is my Christmas story.

Monday, December 12, 2016


At the early age of thirty-eight my mother said "Go west!"
"Get up!" said she, "And get a job!"
Said I, "I'll do my best."
So I pulled on my wellingtons to march to kilchamock
But I took a wrong turn in Charlestown
And I ended up in Knock.
Once a place of quiet retreat, now it's a holy site.
Where catholics get indulgences once or twice a night.
You can buy a set of rosary beads or get your candles blessed.
If you've got a guilty conscience
You can get it off your chest.

She is still not right.

She is still not right. When Khan bit the little dog the other day...well, not exactly bit, just sort of held her and warned her, he hurt her a fair bit. Having said that, if he had wanted to he could have bitten off her head, but he didn't, he was simply telling her to keep off his food.
The trouble is, him being so big he had her head and neck in his jaws and he has broken the skin a little bit on her neck. It's not bleeding or anything, but it traumatized her a good bit. She shakes a lot, a bit like someone with the DTs.
I had a dream the other night, I couldn't sleep a wink.
The rats were crawling up the wall and I was trying to get off the drink.
That sort of thing.
Oh she is barking at noises and eating okay, all that sort of thing, but she is still not right.

Friday, December 09, 2016

Wait till Mad Mary gets in!

Wait till mad Mary gets in from work, Khan will be in deep shit.
I blame our Robert, he has been told umpteen times not to bring treats for the dogs, they have got enough. Does he listen? does he shite.
He came up this morning to help me put a door on and of course brought a couple of rawhide bone things with him and a lot of other crap for the dogs.
The little one pinches the toys from Khan and he lets her, it's a game they play. The same thing does not apply to food. I was busy in the kitchen with the door and Robert, (Brain of Britain 1952) gives the dogs the rawhide things. Little Charlie hides her's and then pinches Khan's. Next thing you know she is screaming in fear because he has got her head and neck in his jaws and he is growling.
I had to jump in and get her away from him and she ran under the dining table, screaming and shit herself, literally, again!
She doesn't seem to be hurt so clearly he was just warning her, he could kill her with one  casual bite. He has hurt her but not damaged her.
I had to go and get a dog cage for her so that from now on she can go in there away from him poor little bugger.
He knows he is in trouble of course, the little dog is traumatized
Just wait till mad Mary comes in.

Tuesday, December 06, 2016

It's about time!

It's about time if you ask me. Mind, nobody is asking so forget that.
To begin at the beginning, always a good place to start, the lads are here to do my boiler. I am getting a brand new, state of the art job so we will be able to get a shower in future without the water going suddenly cold at the wrong moment. It's not funny when you are washing your interesting bits and you are suddenly plunged into a surprise cryogenic situation.
Anyway, that is being done as I speak. Yes, I know I should have said 'write' but I have been saying the wrong thing for years, why change now?
I have got my inner back door off because I am in the process of fitting a new on. My inner front door has to come off next because that needs replacing too. Then there are two doors upstairs that need a bit of work on them as well.
There is a fair bit of painting to be done before Christmas and on top of all that I have to put up a dozen pictures in the living room.
While all this is going on my car has to go in for servicing on the 8th, it's the 6th today and I have got two barmy dogs running all over squabbling good-naturedly over a little, stuffed elephant cuddly toy.
Still, look on the bright side, at least I'll be able to get a wash in comfort and use my heating instead of having the fire on all the time. It's about time!

Saturday, December 03, 2016

They are at home this afternoon.

They are at home this afternoon so I am going to the match again. Grindon Gertie and her little dog have been out all night, they stayed over at Grindon and haven't turned up yet, it's nearly noon too!
 When /if they turn up before I go to the match I will surprise her because I have got her a ticket, that's the up-side. The downside is that it is next to mine, ha ha.
Of course she will have been downtown shopping this morning but she will still want me to take her somewhere for more wastrel activity.
Anyway, there will be a grumpy reaction when I tell her to sod off, her and her little dog, but I don't care.
Yesterday she came in with two Christmas jumpers, for the fucking dogs! She put the jumper on her little dog and it stood there like a lion shitting a bone, terrified. She had to fight Khan just to get his around his neck, and that's as far as she got because it was far too small for him. She will have to take it back. I've never heard so much drivel, jumpers for dogs.
Anyway, I am off to watch the game, they are at home this afternoon.

Friday, December 02, 2016

It's not funny

It's not funny, nowhere near slightly entertaining, never mind funny.
We brought the little dog home last night and it looks like a miniature Doberman, tiny little thing.
As soon as we walked in the door, the dinner lady carrying the little dog (called Charlie) and of course Khan attacked everyone in sight. Well, not attacked, more jumped up in excitement to investigate and play. Jackie was nearly knocked arse over tit, Khan is a big, heavy dog and doesn't know his own strength.
Anyway, the little dog crapped it'self literally, ha ha.
Well, I thought it was comical.
Khan just wants to play, the little dog runs away but she will get used to him.
Bed time and the little un wants to sleep on my pillow so we let her. She was shoving herself into the back of my neck and I was getting nearer and nearer the edge of the bed. Then she got under the duvet and kept me awake most of the night.
Terrible Tessa thinks it's funny of course and said the little dog will settle down in a couple of days but I am telling you now, it's not funny.

Thursday, December 01, 2016

And so the dance begins.

And so the dance begins. She got the dog, that's the first thing.
She rolled in at about half four looking pleased with herself with three more bags of Christmas shopping.
"Where you been?" I asked. Not unreasonably I thought considering she finished work at two fifteen.
"Shopping with our Vicci. You not dressed yet?"
"Dressed!" I tell her. "I wouldn't even be awake if you left me alone."
"Come on," says she. "We will have a cuppa then go to our Olwyn's to get the dog."
"What happens if Khan kills it?" I ask, knowing he won't, he only defends himself.
"Well," says she. "If they don't get on we will take her back."
"What about my tea?"
"You are having silverside, now get dressed." I am told.
Well, we went over, stopped at Aldi on the way because she hadn't wasted her daily quota of shekels.
There were a few tears from Olwyn because she wanted to keep the little dog but her other little dog was trying to kill it. That's the thing with bitches, they never get on.
Came back home, the little dog being nosey all the way, looking out of the car window.
I came in first and put the muzzle on Khan, £6.99 from Jackie White's, and as soon as Herself came in with the little dog in her arms Khan jumped up to greet her and the little dog bit Shirley Temple's hand in fear.
Since then the little dog has been running away from the idiot who wants to play with her. At the minute the three of them are up in the bedroom, and so the dance begins.

Oh well, we will see.

Oh well, we will see.
I just told Khan that he is getting a new friend, he wasn't impressed. All he did was sighed and went back to sleep with his head on my foot. I wish he would bugger off. He is never far away from me and likes to be in contact most of the time.
Personally, I can't see him accepting the little dog, but you never know.
Oh well, we will see.

She never stops!

She never stops.
I was on the vodka last night and had one too many. I woke up this morning the worse for wear so Grindon Gertie had to get the bus to work, she's a dinner lady. As soon as we had got rid of her, me and Ghengis Khan went back to bed. It's just gone three in the afternoon now and we have been awake for ten minutes. We would still be asleep if Prehistoric Pauline hadn't phoned me up.
"I have got a little dog," says she. Notice that she doesn't ask me or Khan, she simply informs us and if we don't like it we can go and fuck a spider as far as she is concerned. The fact that he tried to kill the last dog he met, another Akita, seems to have slipped her mind.
I said, "What if Khan won't have it?"
"He bloody will or I'll punch his lights out," I am informed. "I am getting it off our Olwyn, she has to get rid of it tonight."
"Well, you better go to Jackie White's market then, to the dog place and get a muzzle for Khan. He is ten and a half round the nose." I tell her, "We can put it on him before we bring the little dog inside."
"I still want another Akita," she informs me. "I'll be in about tea time, I hope you are sober by now."
"Sod off," I tell her and turned the phone off.
It rang again.
"What?" asked me in my best phone manner.
"I want to go to Morrison's tonight as well. I need some things."
"Sod off," I tell her, she never stops!

Wednesday, November 30, 2016

You couldn't make it up.

You couldn't make it up.
Half past two this morning and Ghengis Khan charges out of the bedroom and goes downstairs like somebody not right.  I can hear him not quite growling but sounding exceeding menacing.
"Shit," said I to me. "Has he got a bungler!"
I jumped out of bed and hurried down the dancers without even bothering to put my dressing gown on. I could do with a bungler, he can have my dressing gown for a start. I put the kitchen light on and he is in the corner with his victim, a tiny, little mouse!
Of course, the idiot can't reach it in the corner but he seems to be doing his best to lick it to death and growling. Poor little bugger is terrified, the mouse, not the dog.
So I walk over and smack the dog's arse.
"Leave him alone, you bully," I tell him.
He looks at me as if to say, "I am only doing my job."
Huh! Pity he can't do his job when Wendy is here, she needs growling at.
"Go on," I tell him. "Fuck off to bed."
The mouse scuttles off, a bit like our Wendy.
Back upstairs and getting back into bed to rub my cold arse on her she says in the dark, "What was all the racket about?"
"You awake, are you?" I snuggled.
"Aaaargh! You are freezing!"
"It's winter," I tell her, "Stop whingeing."
"Bastard," she informs me.
"Ha!" I snigger. "The best bit about being a bastard is I don't have to buy anybody a present on Father's Day."
"Piss off and go to sleep," I am instructed.
No, you couldn't make it up.

Monday, November 28, 2016

She Likes Her Bed

She likes her bed, no two ways about it.
Yesterday was Sunday and I was out of bed by half past seven, I have to be or the dog gets fractious. It's no good expecting her to get up to see to her dog, he can shit on the bed for all she cares. He is my dog when somebody has to get up to let him out. He lets himself back in, I will have to teach him to let himself out.
So, once I am up I stay up, can't get back to sleep anyway.
She rolls downstairs at eleven bells in her onesie and Norwegian boot-slippers, hair all over the place.
"I'm not going anywhere today," says she. "Can't be arsed." Plonks herself next to the fire and turns the telly on.
"What about breakfast?" I ask.
"Make me a cuppa and I'll do it in a bit."
All I got was a bacon sandwich. Then she shoved a chicken in the oven and went back to bed!
She crawled back out about two, made the dinner and went back upstairs to 'tidy up'
About four I went up to see what she was tidying up.
All she was tidying up was her sleep quota, she was in bed.
"Are you actually getting up today?" I asked.
"Sod off," says her. "I'm comfy."
Oh yes, she likes her bed.

Sunday, November 27, 2016

they must be kidding me

They must be kidding me. Every day, sometimes several times a day in fact, I see these adverts on the telly for a free credit score for life, so I went onto it. Credit Score .com.
They want my email address, passwords, and all kinds of personal details including bank details. These people must think we are all simple minded. Next thing you know the bank will be stripped bare and the money somewhere in Nigeria.
Fuck That!
Nobody with any sort of sense is going to put that sort of information on the computer.
These people are just bandits and please (if you read this) take me to court or something, the world needs to know about cunts like you.
Bank details! They must be kidding me

It's Too Easy!

It's too easy! There is no other way to put it.
So there we were, me, her and my brother Robert, wandering around B&M. Our Rob went in for whatever took his fancy, I went in for tins of dog meat and Slack Alice went in to look at their Christmas stuff. I have no idea why, she's got tons of the crap already!
Anyway, I have got my dog meat and our Rob had bought crisps and noodles so we were done.
Not her.
She is examining little bathroom bins. What the fuck bathroom bins have got to do with Christmas is beyond my puerile understanding but there we have it. Then I find myself standing next to the shelf bearing toilet brushes and you know me, never look a horse in the teeth.
"Hey!" says me. "Jackie! We need a new toilet brush."
"What?" says she. "Why?"
"The one we have got is no good."
"Why?" she asked. "What's wrong with it?"
"It's faulted," I tell her. "It's broke."
"How is it broke?" she asks.
"It's took all the skin off my arse!"
Yes, she walks into them. It's too easy.

Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Psychotic Sally

Psychotic Sally, that's what we used to call her.
Allow me to explain.
About three years ago at this time of year, it was really pissing down one day, not much changed there then.
So; I had just moved into the flat on Southwick road and it was located above a shop, Marie McMahon's to be precise. I know Marie and her family all of our lives.
Outside of my front door was a bus stop and on the day in question I was going into the flat and there was a woman standing, huddled really at the bus stop, in the rain, looking the worse for wear. She looked like she was on her last legs in fact.
I remember asking, "Are you alright?"
"I'm freezing," says she pathetically.
"Here," I say opening the front door. "Come and have a hot drink."
Anyway, took her in, gave her a hot drink and let her warm up. Skinny little thing, mid fifties and she was never going to win any beauty contests.
That was it really, she got the bus and was gone from my life, or so I thought.
Next morning at seven bells the dog wakes me up barking, someone is at the front door. I go down to have a look, not best pleased. It is the human disaster from the day before and she has got a daily paper with her.
"I got you the paper," says she.
Anyway, I tell her politely that I don't want her knocking on my door at seven in the morning and she tells me she has no friends. Not my fault so I send her on her way and tell her not to come back.
She stalked me. Hanging around in Marie's shop, following me around the Green and stuff like that. I told my probation officer I had a stalker and that was that.
Well, I don't live there anymore but psychotic Sally (as I called her) doesn't know that. She is still loitering at the bus stop, the sad sod.
Oh yeah, I have still got the magnetism for the wierd and the wonderful, ask psychotic Sally.

Monday, November 21, 2016


And I am doing my own dinner apparently.

A Nice, Freindly Chat

A nice, friendly chat; that's what it was.
This is the picture. I am sitting playing World Championship Poker on the play station and it is about half four in the afternoon.
In she comes.
The dog looks at her, decides that she can come in then goes back to sleep.
She looks like a drowned rat
"Raining, is it?" I ask, not unreasonably I thought.
"You bastard," she accuses, dripping all over the place. "You could have come and got me! But no! You have got your dressing gown on!. Bastard!"
"All you had to do was give me a ring," says I.
"Would you have come?"
"No," I reply, honestly. "It's raining."
"Bastard," says she and storms off.
Oh yeah, I like a nice, friendly chat.

He can't be trusted

He can't be trusted, it's as simple as that!
Our new dog, well, he's not so new and he has got nothing to do with me beyond feeding and walking him. According to Mata Hari he is her dog unless he is in the bad books because then he is "YOUR POXY DOG!"
He is an American Akita and seems to be of the opinion that anything on four legs is there for him to attack. But to be fair, he is ecumenical about it, he will bite two legs too, especially me.
"Freddie!" says Miss Grindon 1956. "Since we lost Tara I think Khan is pining."
"What?" says I. "For the Fjords?"
Right over her head that one, never heard of the parrot sketch.
"I think we should get him a girlfriend."
"Go on the internet and find one," she orders. "I don't care where. Be a nice day out for us."
We found one in Birmingham.
Phoned the people up, had a nice chat, a five year old bitch, beautiful dog and we all agreed on £250.
Took four hours to get there with him snoring most of the way.
What did he do when we finally reached his new girlfriend?
He attacked her. Two big Akitas fighting like mad, took ages to separate them.
Drove all the way back and he was suddenly my dog again, in the bad books.
"Eight hours driving!" she cries. "I could strangle your poxy dog. She was beautiful!
"Well," says I, narrowly missing a cat as we turned into our street. "What can I tell you? He can't be trusted."

Saturday, November 19, 2016

It's brilliant!

It's brilliant!
She just came rolling downstairs wearing her onesie and acting all reasonable. That's suspicious for a start, she only does reasonable when she wants something.
"Do you want a full cooked breakfast?" says Boudicea in her Micky Mouse onesie.
I look at her.
"I'll do bacon, sausages,waffles,eggs, beans and tomatoes."
I grin at her.
"What you grinning for?"
"I'm still not taking you to Shields," I point out reasonably.
She does her best not to punch me in the face. "Do you want a full breakfast or not?"
"Certainly," says me. "Set me up nice for the match that will."
"You could easy take me."
"No I couldn't," I tell her. "I'm going to the match."
"Right," says she. "Make your own fucking breakfast."
It's brilliant!

She walks into them

She walks into them, she really does.
Sunderland are playing Hull today and I have got a couple of tickets. Well, let's face it, they lose every game more or less and they still get over forty thousand masocists turning up to watch them. It's marginally better than poking yourself in the eye with an exocet.
So, she says, "Will you take me to Shields market today?"
"No," says me. "Going to the match."
"If I had a little car I could take myself."
"Don't start that again," says our super star (me). "You can't drive! I got you the driving test stuff for the computer and you haven't even looked at it!"
"Well you take me then!"
"I have told you, I am going to the match!" I tell her.
"Huh," says she. "You think more of Sunderland than you think of me."
I grin at her and say, "I think more of Newcastle than I think of you."
She walks into them.

Tuesday, November 08, 2016


And if her poxy dog doesn't stop trying to eat my foot she will need a new dog, never mind a car.

A New Car.

A new car, that's what she wants.
"What?" said I.
"I want a new car," says she. "One of them nice little C1's. A pale blue one, I don't want a big one like yours."
"You can't drive," said I. "What do you want a car for?"
"It's only twenty five quid a week," says she. "And you can put it on your insurance."
"You can't fucking drive!" I point out politely.
"Yes I can," says her. "Well, I used to have a provisional but I don't know where it is. I could get another one, a replacement. I want a car."
"You can't get finance without a licence."
"Ah," says she. "You've got a licence."
"Not for long," says I. "If you are going to start defrauding garages."
"I'm not," says she. "I just want a car. You can give me lessons."
She doesn't listen unless it is her doing the talking.
"Get your licence first!"
"I want a car," says she. "Let's go and have a look at one today."
Well, she can sod off. She might want a new car but she's not getting one, not until she gets a licence.


Tossers, there is no other word for them.
Let me explain.
The other day I am on my phone checking the tide times for Northumberland so we could go for willicks. Put the right thing in my search engine thingy and got this page up about these mucky women who live nearby who want to show the world dirty pictures of themselves and their cats. Well, pussy was mentioned.
At my age I don't care, I have my woman, so I tried to delete it. I can't! it won't let me!
Why do these people do it? They are just fucking up people's enjoyment of their phones and internet. I could maybe understand if I had tried to find these slappers, but I didn't, so why do they do it?
I am going to have to take my phone down to the Car Phone Warehouse and get it sorted out. Of course they will think I have been looking at mucky websites but what can I do? The kids use my phone to play games and to download shit that costs me a fortune. I don't want the kids seeing such crap and I wish those responsible would pack it in. Tossers.

Wednesday, November 02, 2016

What a performance II

It's been interesting (verging on traumatic) to say the least.
I moved into my new cottage and all that stuff, repairs, painting etc, it's all going on. I've had more fucking cowboys in here than Warner Bros!
However, that's not what I wanted to say, it's about the internet and those wankers, Talk Talk.
They came to put the internet in at great expense and the hairdresser who did it...(he was no fucking engineer!)...told me it would take a day or so to sort it'self out.
Fine, I can live with that.
Two weeks later, no internet, nothing!
So, young James gets onto them because my manners on the phone to these twats is quite rude.
Five times! twice they promise to send and engineer out and I am still waiting. So! I phones BT Mobile and put it in their hands.
Engineer turned up, a feller I know already.
"Ooo..." says he. "The line he put in doesn't work, it's faulty."
Then he examines the Talk Talk set up.
The box for the phone is eight feet from the floor and doesn't work.
Phoned the bank. "Stop direct debits to T T please."
"No bother," says the bank.
Had a letter off them threatening to charge me over two hundred quid.
Wrote back. "You failed your part of the contract, you will get nothing out of me. Now fuck off."
So, as I said, it's going to be interesting!

Sunday, August 28, 2016


Knackered, there is no other way to put it.
Yesterday we decided to take young Ellie to see the Tall Ships in Blyth harbour. Off we went and of ciurse once we got to Seaton Sluice it was just a solid traffic jam to Blyth.
Right, cancel Blyth, we went to Newbiggin and had fish and chips and then decided to go to Sugar Sands to pick willick, or winkles to the rest of the world.
So there I was, all summery, shorts, white shirt, lovely. Making my way across sea weed covered rocks when of course I slipped and headed sideways for a big rock. I hurt my shoulder a few weeks back when an idiot dropped a settee on it and it was just getting better. So, down I went, fourteen stones landing on the same shoulder and now I can barely move it. I'll have to cancel Khan's vet visit.
I'll be stuck in the house for days, if not weeks and that is why I use the colourful vernacular, Knackered.

Saturday, August 27, 2016

I need a muzzle

I need a muzzle. Well, it's not actually for me although I am sure a couple of folk would suggest different, it's for Numb Nuts. He has to go to the vet's on Tuesday because last week he was limping but that's gone now. Mind, he still puts it on when he is getting told off, a regular occurrence with him, he is such a thieving sod! You can't leave anything unattended on the kitchen benches (or anywhere else for that matter) because he pinches it and eats it.
Howsomever, I am still taking him to the vet's because I need to have him chipped and generally checked out.  The muzzle is for the vet's benefit on the grounds that Khan will bite him the instant the needle goes into his neck, he is like that. He has bitten me twice, once for freeing his paw which he had managed to get jammed in the steps and once for kicking a slice of bread he was eating.
I can't allow him to bite the vet because the vet will have him chucked off his register and for that reason alone, I need a muzzle.

And I am back!

And I am back! Not that I have ever been away. No, been nowhere unless you count a few tourist spots around this septic isle of ours. And, talking about tourist spots, they are taking the piss in some places, they really are.
So, where have I been?
Well, I moved house and now I live in a two bedder overlooking one of Sunderlands tourist spots, Margaret Thompson Park. She was the wife of some big time ship builder in the days when this country had something to brag about, you know, during the industrial glory days before Mad Maggie fell out with the unions. Anyway, the point is, I moved house, nearly broke my shoulder doing it because an idiot dropped a sofa on me and had no tinternet, the two facts not being too closely related.
Well, tinternet is back on, had it done yesterday. Now I can watch anything I want, when I want but more important I can access anything anywhere with none to gainsay me.
Oh! and I have a new dog. Well, my old dog (the long haired German shepherd) had gastro enteritis and her back end had gone and she was in terrific pain so she had a lethal injection. I can think of a couple of people I would rather have put to sleep before my dog but never mind.
The new dog is an American Akita called Khan who is a daft as a ship's cat. Loves people, especially kids and thinks the whole world wants to meet him but he doesn't like aggressive dogs. He turns nasty. He is only a pup himself really, but he is a big pup, big and strong.
So, that's me on tinternet again and that is why I so cheerfully state, I am back!

Saturday, June 11, 2016

I have been away.

I have been away. Well, actually I haven't been anywhere apart from a couple of places around this septic isle such as High Force, Whitby and places of cash draining capabilities.
Right then, before I forget let me tell you about Whitby.
We got in the car, me, Jackie, her daughter Angela, (or as I call her, Crangela) and Jackie's granddaughter Alyssa, (or as I call her, Oh No!) So, we all got in the car, my new Zafira, (bit of news there for later) and set off for Whitby. That was my first mistake, I asked Jackie to put 'Whitby' into my sat-nav. How was I to know that she can't sodding well spell! Off we set, me following the directions of the sat-nav like a good little soldier. After a couple of hours I was thinking that it should only take an hour or so and we were still on the motorway. Then I saw signs for the Leeds and Bradford airport and pulled off to check the sat-nav. The idiot hadn't put Whitby, she had put Whisby, a place near Lincoln. I was on my way to fucking Lincolnshire!
Ninety one miles past my bleeding destination! That's where I was!
Bet you can't guess what I called her. No wonder her daughter is thick, she gets it from her mother!
Right, what was I talking about?
Oh yes, being away.
Normally that would be a euphemism meaning I had been on prison, but I haven't, no internet connection so I was off-line. Oh yes, I am learning the jargon.
Moving into a new cottage in a couple or three weeks too, got myself a new car and the DVLA couldn't find my records.
STILL haven't got a publisher but I will try again now I have got tinternet back.
Life is still enjoyably interesting but as far as my little vignettes are concerned, I have been away.