Sunday, 19 July 2015

An Antique Tale...

 
My vintage toy car.


Waking up on a Sunday and it is peeing down with rain does not do well for queuing up at Walmer Castle for a chance to be on the BBC programme Antiques Roadshow. So I had a power nap on the sofa and dismissed the idea of going to the show.

And soon I was in a deep sleep, dreaming, dreaming, dreami.....ng! Oh Fiona Bruce, Brucie babe!!

' Car was ready and I collected my Nan, bless her well, all 4 foot-five of her. Splendid for her age, but alas a bit slow but some great stories to tell. Rang her doorbell and she greeted me with her now traditional, "Who the fook are you? No salesmen, no JoJo's; go away".

"Its me nan. We are going to the Antiques Roadshow!"

" I ain't that old. 99 I am and still going. Not out so to say! Come on lad stop dithering!"

My nan came out with her broom, not a witches broom but a newish looking one from Homebase. She was convinced it was the same rotten one that her husband use to have. He were a keen gardener and always said to me to look after your broom. Alas he never looked after his rake, left it lying on the ground and a misplaced foot and then WHACK!! Hit directly on the forehead whilst picking a cabbage for dinner.

Always asked my nan what did you do at the time. Her reply was, "Only thing I could do; opened a tin of peas..." My nan so funny!!

So we parked up near the castle and joined in the queue for the show. This was going to be some wait; my nan, her Zimmer and broom, my vintage toy car and an old tortoise paperweight. Soon we got somewhere to sit and rest, a waiting area of sorts and a group of posh looking researchers rummaging and inspecting peoples belongings. Trying to find the most notable antiques.

Would I get to be on TV with Fiona...oh Fiona!!

Whilst we waited for the researchers to approach us my nan was staring at an old boy in an electric wheelchair. In his basket was some miniature grandfather clock. It looked extremely old and was very dusty and grimy on the face. In turn he was staring at nan. In fact they stared at each other for a good ten minutes and then together they spoke in unison, " Hello? Do I know you??".

I thought to myself you ought too;  your blinking neighbours!! You always admired his clock!

 
...they have no value...
 
 
Soon we were greeted by the researchers. They asked if we had any antiques for filming. Yes I replied as nan shoved her broom into the man's face.
 
" It's Victorian! she said. Gracefully I hid the Homebase label with my hand.
 
"Oh really?" said the man.
 
I had to come out with some story so I told him, " Belonged to my granddad and his father before. They kept it well maintained, and it has had 17 new brush heads and 20 new handles in its one hundred and twenty year life."
 
"Is that so?" replied the man. " More like Fools and Horses do you not think?
 
" Do you have any thing of interest?"
 
" My vintage toy car!" He said that with no box they have no value.
 
" My old tortoise paperweight?" He said far eastern tourist ware, they have no value.
 
 
...wasting time...
 
 
The man was clearly annoyed with us and suggested we were wasting time with our silly items. My nan was now having a nap. As the man muttered obscenities under his breath he turned to the old man in the electric wheelchair. The old man then fainted on the sounding of words of delight from the researcher; "...fantastic find...£10000 at least...get him on with Fiona..." First aiders were called an in the ensuing commotion a scruffy, dark haired man of eastern European appearance snatched the clock from the man's basket only to be rugby tackled by two others in the crowd and hit with an old antique police truncheon. "Belonged to my late husband...I knew it would come in handy" I heard a lady say.
 
The researcher, now rather bemused with the excitement, turned around and his eyes fell on my nan, who was very fast asleep. The chap had clearly forgotten that he thought we were wasting his time and was clearly out of sorts from so much suddenly going on around; ambulance, police and news cameras. "Now" he said "who does this ancient doll belong too?"
 
I promptly snapped back, time wasters eh, "That doll sir; is my fooking NAN!!"
 
Oh yes I got to be on telly, the local news...what a farce! Fiona, Fiona....Fioooona, yawn!'
 
 
God bless. Amen.


Saturday, 27 June 2015

A lottery dream

Lottery winner....yessssssssss!

Well being so close to winning last week...you know that big one of £93 million...yep bought a ticket but alas my numbers were either one or two out of those actually called. Shame!

So decided to have another go this week on the normal lotto...after careful deliberation and statistical pondering of recently winning  lines I scientifically chose a lucky dip...looking at my numbers and I thought yep thats a fooking con...not sure if; 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6 are random enough or if the choice of the machine was merely mocking my confidence.

Well, trudged home in a sour mood and tucked the ticket away on the shelf and thought that's another two pound wasted. Fat chance I have. Anyway with nowt on telly, yet again that night worth watching I tuned into the lotto draw.

There were some game show contest going on, trying to win a holiday to...oh no that's such bad luck...Tunisia of all places. So the first draw the Thunder Number...bodes well I thought. Then soon it was the lotto draw....first ball out....YES! Second ball...oh Yesssss! Third ball, then forth, fifth and sixth.

I was dumb founded...I think but was not sure I had won...on the lotto. I checked the rules on line and yes I had won...my numbers had triumphed. I punched the air, jumped up and down on the sofa, screamed at the top of my voice.

So many emotions running through my head and questions on what I would buy. Strangely I looked in my cupboards and made a list...what was I doing? Nerd! Cars, I should look at cars....

So, having confirmed and then collecting my winnings I was at the dealership on the High Street...I was so excited. I had chosen my car...a Roller...pink it was...oh so love that pink! 

I left the dealership with my car...this turn heads I thought...but carefully everything was under wraps...all original packing and carefully placed in a carrier bag. Yep I had bought my first collectible Roller...number plate was: Fab 1. 

My first ever, Thunderbirds toy...the Rolls Royce of Lady Penelope. Well not much you can buy with £74.39...thank you lotto. Oh yes...got all six numbers up but so did another 40000 or so others!

And then I heard that sound, a regular voice of authority, calming yet angry and a shove in the back with, "Darling, your bloody snoring again!"

God bless and amen.

Tuesday, 5 May 2015

Oh, Deal, why do I not love you.

Oh, Deal, why do I not love you.

I am falling out of love for my town,
Things that have happened,
And things that I do,
Are making me feel down.

I see despair every way I look,
Finding it hard to summon feelings,
In the good that is there,
This is my town and my life it has took.

A creeper we had,
And from us they stole,
A dog we had,
Losing her has taken its toll.

Parents growing old,
And their suffering I see,
Their worry is mine,
Affecting deep in me.

Oh, Deal, why do I not love you,
Born here and lived here,
I now want to go,
Somewhere very different in miles from here.

New housing new people,
Roads clogged with cars,
Weeds in the gutters,
And litter on the streets.

Bins overflowing,
Emptied so so,
Ragged pets running loose,
And leaving their do.

In business I am,
But many their are,
All plying for the same custom,
A worry to survive.

Oh, Deal, why do I not love you,
Born here and lived here,
I now want to go,
Somewhere very different in miles from here.

Kids in and out,
Their rudeness,
Reluctance to help in and around,
Our home our house.

No money,
Few friends,
A dear loving wife,
Two kids and debt,
Consuming my life.

I need to shout,
Find a way to cope,
At the moment I see,
No sign or light or hope.

Oh, Deal, why do I not love you,
Born here and lived here,
I now want to go,
Somewhere very different in miles from here.

Friday, 1 May 2015

Sexist East Kent Mercury Report...lol

A Case of Deliberate Sexist Reporting...

Now I am not one for political moaning...absolute bloody lie...what me? Oh I admire Maggie the Iron Lady, not for what she did, but she was a leader and led well. Had the guillotine been at her disposal then she would have chopped off more heads then Henry VIII.

But we are still under the influence of Thatcherism long after her death and that is despite being in the pit of austerity. So what does the future bode...well more austerity, tinged with a return to some old Thatcherite policies if our dear friend Mr. Cameron gets in for a second term.

So what if Labour get in, is Ed up to leading us with is Skunk like hair and rat face eyes. And will he be in partnership with the Scottish lady, Ms Sturgeon, "Mary Queen of Scots reborn"... Yep she will be a tough one! And does the other Ed have the Balls to give us more and yet spend less.

Well, most will be having to make up their minds in the next seven days or less...endless leaflets dropped through your door, people with different coloured rosettes knocking on your door like bloody Jehovah's.

But I ask you, if you have a Labour poster in your window and some nerd asks "Are you voting Labour? Can we count on your support?"....der...of course!

Political programmes, adverts, broadcasts, who has done what and when and who was to blame for the mess...what the dog mess...ha ha! And then there are your local rags, profiling all the candidates, giving you some idea if you haven't made up your mind yet.

But, get this...my local rag has profiled the five main hopefuls. Now we have two female contenders, one for Labour and one for Lib Dems and three male contenders: one Tory boy, UKIP and a Green.

Now clearly hidden in its layout is the clear agenda of our local rag, unbiased, non political support but sexist to say the least. Now the Greens have been given very little edited space...so small you would think this is the editor or reporter.

So the rag has detailed the two female prospectives on one page and has the last two male contenders on the opposing page. My dear local rag have you deliberately pitted male against female..sexist point one!

Then look at the photo presentation..our two ladies have passport size pictures displayed whilst for the Tory boy and UKIP no-hoper...well they have purposely taken photos, six times larger in size then the lady hopefuls...sexist point two!

So does this,  I wonder, mean that my local rag is trying to draw your interest more towards the Tory boy and UKIP outsider and drawing you away from Labour or LibDem because they are ladies...pure sexism I proclaim.

Any way, I know who I am voting for on the day, for I have only seen one contender...not the Tory boy whom I have not seen; nor UKIP chappie; LibDem; well she could be anywhere...and the Greens...well had them for dinner...lol!

That's all folks! I gladly await my local rags response!

God bless. Amen.

Tuesday, 28 April 2015

Farewell Tamba

Farewell Tamba

We will miss you staring with those Shrek eyes,
Wanting your dinner,
Always at five o clock,
Always dead on time.

We will miss your perkiness,
Looking for treats,
Or bringing that ball to us,
For us to throw for you to play.

We will miss taking for a walk,
Sniffing at other dogs,
Sniffing their scent,
Everywhere you went.

We will miss you sleeping,
In our room keeping us awake,
Your snoring,
Dreaming,
And sometimes barking at noises in the middle of the night.

We will miss your dog hair,
Matted on our carpet,
Or the sound of teeth on metal,
As you licked your bowl bare.

We will miss you barking,
Whimpering at the dogs next door,
Or your waiting at the fence,
For a biscuit from the toddlers,
It's you that they adored.

We will miss calling you,
For dinner or walkies,
Your excitement would show,
As we open the cupboard door.

We will miss taking you,
In the back of the car,
Down to the promenade,
For that walk along the front.

We will miss you dear Tamba,
A lovely dog you were,
Smooth haired Collie,
A breed so rare.

It were the hardest decision,
But you had something inside,
The pain will go on hurting,
Without you at our side.

But doggie heaven now is your home,
And do not worry Tamba,
For you are not alone,
For I am sure God has ready,
A room especially for you.




Wednesday, 22 April 2015

A gardening poem

Tis the growing season again

Tis the growing season yet again,
First were the snowdrops, 
Then colourful crocus,
Majestically tall daffodils,
And shrubs into bud.

In shops are violets and pansy,
To plant in those beds,
Or to make hanging baskets,
For your homesteads.

The first cuts to the grass,
Might make it look yellow,
But then come the rains,
To make the grass green.

A rake and a feed,
A scattering of seed,
Will all do good,
Tis the growing season again.

Follow a plan,
To make your gardens look lush,
Don't leave it too late,
Or garden might look tired,
When it could be looking so plush.

So when buying the chocolate,
And hotcross buns,
Plan for your garden,
It's colour and look,
An outdoor space for you to have fun.

Good effort now,
Acquires some work,
And there are bargains to be had,
As shops tempt you with money saving perks.

So you see,
There is a lot going on,
Everything growing,
With the sun and the rain,
Tis the growing season yet with us again.

Saturday, 4 April 2015

They took part of our life away...

They violated our peace


On the evening of the 1st April, something happened, something shockingly bad that has affected us inside, deep inside. We feel scared, violated, useless, pathetic and more, much more.

Thursday should have been just another normal day in my battle to live and work. The first full day of the kids on their school break for Easter. I should have been happy, another day battling anxiety doing people's gardens, making them look good. The kids would have minded themselves looking for things to do during the holidays, my wife was to visit and help her disabled mum.

I was at a client's garden, weeding. Yes, digging out the stuff not wanted or loved. Then I got a call from my wife whom retorted at me that she could not find her handbag. Had I picked it up? Did I know where it was? I replied to her it must be somewhere, had she looked everywhere possible around the house. I was questioning her, my wife was questioning me and we were doubting each other and doubting our children.

Then it dawned that it had been taken, but how we could not comprehend, how? I had to abandon my client, feeling angry, stupid, thinking it was probably under a pile of clothes or cushions. I came home and my wife was in a panic mode, angry, upset and each time I wanted to look she would shout at me "I have done that, done that..."

I went outside and looked around, in fact my wife was already doing so as drove onto the driveway. We were facing the real frightening thought that someone had entered our home and lifted my wife's handbag.

And the most awful thought is that they did this while we were in, at home. We were at home.

We routed out our insurance policy, my wife contacted them, contacted the police, called a locksmith and contacted the bank. And in this time we were going into shock, shaking, angry. We kept thinking how, what did we do and trying to recall what had happened from the previous evening to the morning.

I always on most every occasion lock the front, have been bolting the back gate and locking our shed. I am always conscious about our security. And because of my anxiety I tend to double check and check again. But do you need to lock up when your at home, awake and mobile and active, especially so the door to the back garden.

We asked our neighbours next to us and we found out that there had been a disturbance outside. Some young persons were chased off down an alley by some residents in our street. Then we found out that a house round the corner had a theft.

Whilst waiting for the police to call that day, what should have been a normal working day my wife told me to go back to my clients, try and carry on, but I found it hard to do that, thinking and mulling over what we had  suffered. Kept thinking about it, the thought of someone entering our home, seeing my wife suffering and myself feeling useless on how to console her visible grief.

The police came, took notes, looked around. They told us we would never have known if someone had simply pushed opened the door saw the item and just lifted it right under our noses, either whilst we were in our living room or had gone upstairs to the toilet.

One lapse in our security, our movements seen from outside and an opportunist thief took that small moment of time and not only take the handbag but took a part of our life away.

We went out and looked around our neighbourhood and I will go out this morning and look again. And probably do the same again tomorrow.  I have scoured selling sites and will do so again later in the day. My wife will check our bank, we will look out of our windows scrutinizing each and every person walking by in our street.

And then we must overcome the fear inside us in that; can we leave our house, visit the shop, go and see relatives and friends. We can draw back our curtains and blinds, momentarily closed because of fear, we can leave the back door open in the daytime whilst we are at home, not having to lock it just because we are turning our backs to head into the living room or reach into a cupboard.

This is normal life but when normality will be restored I do not know. One opportunist thief has destroyed the peace we had, scum we call them, scum. In taking your chance you took from us not just an item but you took a part of our life away. In stealing an item you stole our life, violated our peace and your own inner thoughts were of triumph and escape, you think you were victorious in some sort of battle, had a right to take when you did not have.

We feel we have no right to belong in society now, but it is you who should have no right to belong. God may forgive you but why should we forgive. We might feel sorry but why should I empathise with persons like you. I pray your thoughtless action stays with you until your death because today you changed us, destroyed us, violated us. It is you who should be in a prison not us!

May God have mercy on your soul.

Amen.