Racist fools and vacated Teenagers…..
 
Ok, so I’ve had a couple of days working from home because I’ve hd some stuff to do with Big Telephone Company and The Company Retail Store Section , or in other words the muppets who run our shops. So it made sense to work from home, save Diesel, save the environment. Unfortunately it isn’t conducive to creative thought and so it’s a struggle to think of stuff.
 
I was going to write about the programme on last week about the BNP, but it basically showed a bunch of fuckwits…….. dim, deeply stupid and inarticulate people with a penchant for violence, and the fact is I knew that’s what they were about anyway, as I guess do most normal people, whether left or right of the political fulcrum. I actually visited the websites of some of these groups (I won’t dignify them with any links from here) and they are deeply shocking, as shocking as footage of American hostages being beheaded. Their words spread hate on the basis of skin pigmentation and religious belief and are aimed at people’s irrational fears or unwitting ignorance and this shows a level of organisation beyond anything seen previously with such neo-fascist hate groups. Of course the danger is that programmes like this can be akin to recruitment promotions and attract similar types to join, but that is the price we pay for political freedom and no matter how I despise these fools and their associated groups (White Knights of Freedom, Aryan unity etc), we have to allow their extreme views to be aired. They show the almost seamless progression of right wing politics to its worst extremes.
 
Are the far left as bad? I struggle to think of such hate groups on the far left. In fact they seem rather tame sandal wearing, animal rights, and environmentalist, bleeding hearts liberal wet types who believe all property is theft and that everyone’s wages should go into a communal pot for re-distribution. Basket cases they might be but I doubt you’d ever hear their “standard issue kicking in your door” (thanks Roger, another great line). And yes, I  know there are Animal Rights terrorist groups out there, but as yet they haven’t killed anyone based on race, or started riots in poverty stricken areas, or beaten the fuck out of youngsters of a different colour on their way home from school. At least if their hateful, despicable views are aired they can be seen publicly for the idiots they are, but if suppressed they feed on fear and misplaced anger and that’s how they grow. Let them die on the flames of the fire bought on by the oxygen of their own publicity.
 
So I did write about them then. Doh!
 
What I had intended to write about was tonight’s superb programme on BBC2 called “Inventions that changed the World”, presented by the superbly imperious Jeremy Clarkson, a man who could present the dullest of subject and make me laugh.
 
Arrogant? Yes!
Smart-arse? No question!
Self satisfied? Undoubtedly!
Funny as fuck, honest and interesting? Abso-fucking-lutely!
 
It was all about the Jet Engine, which I suppose has shrunk the world and perhaps added to our cultural diversity that the aforementioned shitneck, interbred morons hate, but somehow I think my views on this great programme and invention can wait for another day.
 
One last note. Teenager and I have been clashing more and more lately. Huge phone bills, bad attitude, loud music, locked doors, bad language, sarcasm and cynicism don’t help, but hey I’m 42 and these are now fully ingrained traits! Actually, of course they are examples of Teenager of late. The mobile bill was £70 for fucks sake, nearly all in texts! And I work for the fucking company and so she gets a REDUCED fucking rate! On Sunday we clashed in the pub whilst at lunch all over some lippy answers to me in order to show how clever she was in front of friends. It was almost a public arse-smack of the near 10 variety. But she’s gone on school camp….and I fucking MISS HER. It’s too quiet, Baby is alone and bored……GMD is quietly worried coz she’s away from home……..how can I keep in touch with the latest shite tunes if they’re not being played LOUDLY and repeated “ad infinitum?”. My sparring partner has gone, and ………I’m lonely……..and bored. Teenager, please come home safely…let the hostilities resume. Now I know how Tom feels when Jerry is out of town.
 
Later, Grocerjack

This weeks Work of Art is called "Experiment on a bird with an Air Pump" painted in 1768 by Joseph Wright of Derby and currently on display in the Tate Gallery in London. It's not really my cup of tea, but I had to do a presentation on this a few years ago at my OU Summer School and once you start digging into it it is fascinating in the extreme. The children are a mixture of fascinated and upset, the two people on the left seem more interested in each other. Who is the man pointing, is he their father, an uncle? Who knows? One of the most intriguing things about this is where the light source is. Is there a candle behind the large glass? And just what is that inside the glass? What is the boy on right doing? Is he trying to leave? Notice the fact that its a full moon but yet the room is dark and seemingly barely any light from the moon is entering it. I could go on, but I'd be recreating the presentation which was a struggle to do in the allotted time. The painting had looked easy to critique but just kept turning more and more layers. Wright was renowned for his use of light, and his treatment of the new science stuff mixed in with the romanticism of the pre-industrial revolution era. But perhaps the biggest question was the one I posed at the presentation. Was that man holding the top part of the pump a relative of Peter Stringfellow? Later, Grocerjack 

Wot no posts?

Aaah , thats because I've been busy seeing the sights and sounds of London, and using the time to catch up and get a bit in front on my studies. Plus, after a gruelling few days (sic) the creative juices were a little slack. Hopefully all will return on monday, when I can discuss the BNP (any doubts about their agenda now?), knobbers on the course, and other goodies.

A ray of sunshine though.....Michael Howard must be gutted this morning seing the Lib dems steal his chance to show how much the Tories have closed the gap. I think they need the Underground announcer on their side, constantly reminding them to......er....."Mind the Gap"

Later, Grocerjack

London calling…..

Now let’s get this straight. I am not some sort of prodigal son returning to my home town after some massive absence, far from it. I visit bits of London from time to time to see friends or relatives. However, these visits are to the suburbs of Greater London, bits of the once proud counties of Middlesex and Surrey consumed by the voracious city as it expanded its population and geographical boundaries. Surrey still exists albeit smaller than before, but Middlesex is nothing but a postal address as it disappeared under the weight of boroughs like Ealing and Hillingdon. But this is the first time I have been back and been actively writing observations about aspects of my life, or of others lives and so I noticed things perhaps differently from before.

Bendy Buses – I am a big fan of the hop on/hop off Routemasters, after all they stopped directly outside my house on the 195 route until being replaced by the insidious single decker, driver controlled things that allowed a bloke called Stickley to ignore me and threaten my brothers at the bus stop. The other people in the queue were less than impressed with him. OK, so I’d nicked his girlfriend (my big regret was letting that one slip by), but hey life’s a bastard Stickley and sometimes women do want better looking blokes with some personality (yep, he was a dull, ignorant and monosyllabic pig so I’ll blow my trumpet on this one). Funny thing is when I fronted him in a pub once, his bottle went instantly (I was pissed though). At first glance the Bendies look good, with low floors, plenty of space and easy access for the less able people to get on and off. But the RM’s had quick loading times as fares were gathered once on the bus – by a conductor. I couldn’t tell but the Bendies appear to be driver controlled as well and this was one of the frustrations for the public, waiting minutes to get on an already late bus to be confronted by some ignorant fool with no change, who’d probably just turned a kid off because they were tuppence short for their journey home. Maybe it’s just my rose tinted memory at work. Anyway, have the Bendies got personality though? Maybe in 40 years, if they are reliable then perhaps people will regard them as fondly as the Routemasters. Time has a knack of making things attain character.

Cycle lanes – Christ! Where I am staying they’re everywhere, which is great for cyclists, but as a pedestrian not quite so easy to see as a taxi, car or bus. I can see the advantage of them though in encouraging people to use bikes, which around here must be the second fastest mode of transport after the tube.

The Northern Line – I caught this from Waterloo to Euston and the train was clean, quite, quick and …new! For the uninitiated the Northern Line was for many years the absolute arse end of the tube. How Stockwell was not renamed Mugger Central, or Elephant & Castle renamed Male Rape East I’ll never know. It was dingy, dark, unreliable (I’ve sat for 45 minutes before in complete darkness due to power failure between stations, an unbelievably scary experience with people too scared to move or talk) and dirty with piss and puke filled carriages rather the norm at night. But behold, this train was sparkly, shiny, graffiti free, with recorded announcements for the partially sighted about where they were and where they were heading. Very impressive.

Bus ticket machines – next to the stops! Put the money or card in, get ticket, get on bus – perhaps this is the method of reducing loading times? I may just try it out tomorrow to see how easy it is to use. Being a fuckwit though I’ll probably cock it up.

Starbucks – everywhere. Now I know what the press are going on about. Where I live I couldn’t even tell you where one existed, let alone the number within walking distance of where I am staying. Note to self - must try one out.

Other observations so far – The County Hotel, opposite where I am staying – advertising £40 for a single room for the night and £52 for a twin or double! In the Bloomsbury district? Even the Travel Inn starts at £80 quid. What sort of hotel is this? Should I know? Should I investigate? Does it do rooms by the ….ahem …..hour?

Kings Cross – what a magnificent building. Stunning façade undergoing some presumably much needed TLC. Still awesome though. Where have the hookers gone though? The area used to teem with them, but maybe it’s undergone a clean up. My mates and me used to collect/drop people off at the station and often used to enter into friendly banter with the girls whilst we waited or went for a pint. They always seemed good for a laugh and one couldn’t help feel quite protective of them. Maybe we were just being patronising or perhaps they never felt threatened by us.

The British Library – over time, over budget and what’s more it look like it’s been located inside an old Sainsbury’s. I’m not anti modern architecture but this is a seriously shit looking building. It’ll make the perfect site if they ever decide to have a HM Kings Cross prison. Doesn’t belong in the same fucking City as Kings Cross station let alone next door to it.

Tavistock Gardens Park and Russell Square – a little oasis near my hotel and a larger park one block beyond that. Like the communal gardens depicted in Notting Hill. Beautiful. Lovers kissing, kids playing, students reading, businessmen and women on mobiles…whispering, the obligatory drunk asleep on a bench with people ignoring him. The only places I’ve seen so far where people aren’t trying to get somewhere.

It seemed to me that I was the only person aimlessly wandering with no specific destination. Perhaps it’s because I have moved away and can now appreciate London, whereas before I took it for granted but so far it has shown to me that it has the romance and oddly warmth inducing charm of any city anywhere in the world. I doubt I could live here again but my heart has been won back and now I can comment positively. London is changing, as it always has done, but this seems to be distinctly for the better. An indictment of Mayor Ken’s reign perhaps?


Later, Grocerjack (in the only part of the bar with no anti-mobile lead cage coverage)

Arrived in the smoke….

Safely.

The “not quite 3G” is not too good here and the mobile signal is parked next to the chocolate teapot. South West trains arrived at my local station 3 minutes early and got to Waterloo 10 minutes late. Doncha just love those 5 minute stops outside stations with no explanation listening to antiquated bits of the train creaking and whining? In fact I live on the only line that SWT have yet to upgrade the rolling stock, so it’s the steamy , sweaty, stinky shovel em’ in and bugger it ticket in m,y neck of the woods. Honestly it’s like travelling in the 1920’s, with draughty, smelly and noisy carriages. Still, nice to see the usual train travelling basket cases are still at large. The weirdo at my local station reading a self help guide to Ju-Juitsu, wearing his combats and talking to an unfortunate woman he seemed to vaguely know. He worried me, let alone what she thought as he rambled on about wearing a gangsters outfit to a wedding, complete with ….ahem…violin case. Apparently he went to the bank first where they called the police! Apparently he was confused as to how they didn’t recognise him as “he goes in at least once a month”. Priceless! Eventually he wore me down with his bollocks stories so I moved away before I rang the police to tell them Peter Sutcliffe’s unhinged brother was boarding a train for London.

I kind of miss commuting because it is a never ending supply of stories of lunatics and sane people worn down to the edge of insanity by the sheer hell of travelling by train. Anyway, I have written this by the window of my hotel, enjoying the perfect pint of Guinness, with a near full signal (the only part of the hotel that seems to have it – am I being cynical or do these hotel have anti mobile signal technology to force you into using their phone system at £5 for 2 minutes?). Will have one or two more and then disappear into study land.

Later, Grocerjack

Whereabouts this week……

This week I am on a course for 4 days…in London. So my blogs are dependent on The Company’s “not quite 3G technology”. This is a technical challenge, but hopefully I’ll be able to incorporate some of the spirit of the London Bloggers, like Inspector Sands at Casino Avenue, Onionbagblog Man and Diamond Geezer.

No doubt the fun will start with South West Trains and good old London Underground, both of whom have yet to qualify in my cast group of The Total Fucking Bastards by virtue of the fact that I don’t use them that often. As an ex-Londoner………no….. lets say I am an exiled Londoner, because the London bit never leaves you and I have done my utmost to keep my London-ness and accent intact from the onslaught of the local bastardised dialect where I live.....I find myself looking back with rose tinted glasses at the place, although after a few days back visiting I can't wait to get away again to the countryside with it's clean air and comparative lack of traffic.

I’m staying near Kings Cross, so that could be an interesting starting point!

Anyway in this weeks visit to my home territory here are lists of 10 things I love about London and 10 things I hate about London

Things I Hate about London

1.) The North Circular road – absolutely soul destroying bastard of a road
2.) The City – or at least the workers there - a bunch of arrogant, free loading crooks
3.) Oxford Street – a once glorious shopping paradise now reduced to cheap tat shops
4.) Waterloo Station – a shithole, nuff said
5.) Highbury – the home of The Arse, the biggest single thorn in my side for 32 years
6.) Buckingham Palace – Not the building, but it’s occupants - I’m a Republican so this is hardly likely to light my candle – would make a great museum though
7.) The London Underground – which, ironically, is in my list of things I love. I hate it because it’s unreliable, smelly, run down and doesn’t run all night. I’ve been stranded too many times due to cancellations and breakdowns.
8.) Capital Radio – a once proud London station reduced to a commercial, soulless, community spirit drained, corporate, accountant run bollocks station.
9.) The blacked out fence around Heathrow – fucking killjoys stopping me seeing the planes as I drive past
10.) Wandsworth’s one-way system – makes the North Circular seem like paradise

Things I Love about London

1.) The London Underground – a national treasure, massively depleted due to successive decades of under investment. No other country in the WORLD has an underground like ours – spend money on it (new stations, new rolling stock, new rail and signalling), pay the staff more, reduce the fares, extend it to more sites South of the river and run it 24/7, whatever it takes – and fund it publicly!
2.) The Thames – cleaner than ever and an awe inspiring sight wherever you see it from.
3.) Stamford Bridge – yeah, wonder why this is in there – the HOME of football!
4.) Southall – the best Indian restaurants in the COUNTRY. If you haven’t eaten here then you haven’t had a real Indian.
5.) Routemaster buses – reliable, efficient, fun, full of character and how can you ever replace the ability to hop on and off at will?
6.) The Greenwich foot tunnel – dingy, scary, damp, marvellous
7.) Covent Garden – the best place in any City, anywhere (with Amsterdam’s Liedesplein a very close second)
8.) Westminster Abbey, Tower Bridge, The Tower of London, The Houses of Parliament, the BT Tower, Canary Wharf, The National Gallery, The V&A, The Natural History Museum, St Paul’s Cathedral, The Science Museum, Tate Modern, The Tate, Battersea Power Station, The Dome, The London Eye – all architecturally stunning or interesting sights - yeah I’ve cheated a bit there, but I’m limited to 10 entries alright.
9.) Hyde Park – is this really in the middle of the city?
10.) Heathrow Airport – noisy - but for little boys (of which at heart I am still one) a fascinating place. Not an airport, but a proper Town in its own right.

Places I remember fondly from my own area of London

1.) Northolt Grange Youth Club – many fond memories of the girls, the disco’s and the fights.
2.) Grosvenor Fields – a park next to Grosvenor Avenue – football, bikes, fights, girls and a place to smoke without getting caught by parents
3.) Goshawk Gardens – the street where I lived until my parents decided to shuffle off of this mortal coil before I’d hit 18.
4.) Charville School – a strange little nursery, primary and junior school. It backed onto my garden and so getting in each day was a case of climbing over the fence and I was there. Mr Mcleod the caretaker used to chase us away when we played football in the playing fields during the holidays – silly old fucker – potentially stopped me from being the English Charlie Cooke!
5.) The Grange Youth Club – the Hayes equivalent of the Northolt one, bigger, better building but less welcoming. Used to host the Interspin disco’s which allowed underage smoking and plenty of girls dancing around handbags.
6.) The Carpenters Arms - my local pub for 8 years until I got married (the first time) and then had no money. I served 4 years behind the bar, serving local villains, local idiots who thought they were villains, boyfriends of girls I was also….errr….assisting and especially the local constabulary (Friday and Saturday nights, after hours until the early hours of the morning)
7.) Uxbridge town centre – the only thing to do on a Saturday afternoon. Teenager does the same excursion with her mates to our local shopping town – some things never change.
8.) Oscars – a nightclub (disco we used to call them) in Greenford. It guaranteed either a fuck or a fight, sometimes both.
9.) Steve’s Burger Bar – the finest burgers and pizza anywhere. Always packed out after the pubs were shut.
10.) The EMI club – no, I didn’t work for them but we used to go there in 6 or 7 cars from the Carpenters Arms, meet a load of geezers and birds from Townfield and Barnhill schools (our rivals when we went to school – both now defunct), drink loads of lager and then 12 cab loads of us would go to the White Hart, a pub/disco in Southall for fun and frolics.


Later, Grocerjack

10 Great Songs …………


……I heard on various radio stations this morning.

1. Will You – Hazel O’ Connor (great Sax)
2. Take Me Out – Franz Ferdinand (a bright ray of light in today’s morass of shite music
3. Relax – Frankie Goes to Hollywood (heady nostalgia from my 80’s mis-spent youth)
4. No Woman, No Cry – Bob Marley and The Wailers (just takes you straight to Jamaica)
5. Ballroom Blitz – The Sweet (timeless Glam Rock – immediate transportation back to being 13!)
6. Guns of Brixton – The Clash (the Daddy of all Punk Bands)
7. Don’t Look Back in Anger – Oasis (when they were Kings)
8. Design for Life – The Manic Street Preachers (the best thing to come out of Wales…ever)
9. Seven Nation Army – The White Stripes (to be played LOUD)
10. Zombie – Cranberries (Oh Dolores, where did it go so wrong?)

Just one of those days where every tune seemed to be a good ‘un. It won’t last.


Later, Grocerjack

The Next Door Neighbour Incident……..

I tantalisingly mentioned this “incident” in my previous post and was asked by Mick from the Bloggocks to explain. So here goes…I’ll make it as concise as possible but it is a long story.

GMD is heavily involved in the village community. To date she is a member of the local Community Project, a Brownie Pack leader (Guides next), a governor at the local Primary School and also the local Junior School. She also works part time at the local leisure centre. The local parish council is inevitability. Up until the latter part of last year she was also Chair of the Village Carnival Committee. All of this takes up quite a lot of her time, as you can quite understand. The Carnival (now defunct) was a valiant effort to try and instil some sense of community into the village which is expanding in population by being one of the nearest places to Portsmouth for the current city-country migration trend that is occurring. It is also becoming a popular place for Londoners to move to (that is people like me, except I’ve been there 18 years). As more people move in its “village” status is diminished bit by bit. With this diminishment you get a free bonus of a complete lack of any sense of community or neighbourliness.

The Carnival consisted of the traditional float display followed by a funfair, exhibitions (clown, dogs, family sports day etc) and an evening party in a marquee all held in the local meadow (yes a genuine meadow!). Something for the village and its neighbouring villages to enjoy….you’d think …but that’s another moan.

Scene set.

The week leading up to the Carnival is traditionally a logistical nightmare, with floats being added, some dropping out, new attractions for the post-carnival display in the park, car parking arrangements, signposting, police liaison etc etc (that King of Siam keeps coming back). A very stressful time for the whole committee, but especially the Chair. On the day of the carnival we had people stopping outside the house to drop things off , collect things, including the children who were to be the Queen, King , Princess and Prince. We received a knock on the door at about 11:00. GMD answered expecting another carnival related delivery/collection. No, it was Hornblower’s wife – The Healer. Both of them are a bit weird. He was ousted from the Navy, but not for my suspicions (Roger the Cabin Boy was my immediate thought), but because he was a whistleblower for exposing the institutional bullying and ritual abuse of young ratings. Honourable chap…you’d think. She was an ex-Tax Inspector who had relinquished this role to become a Spiritualist and faith healer. He is a vegetarian, she is a vegan, both are teetotal so they never attended one of our legendary barbecues. Anyway, she immediately launched into GMD about people parking in front of her drive, and specifically about a friend of ours (Mr. Chelsea the third). He had stopped to drop his daughter off and his wife had walked her to the door. Whilst this was happening The Healer had approached him about parking his car across her drive. Thing was, you see, he was parked across mine at the time. He had parked across hers, let his wife and daughter get out, seen them walk to mine, reversed his car into MY drive and pulled out again to face the other way (toward his house) and parked in front of MY drive. The Healer approached him at that point to berate him. He argued the point that in fact he was in front of my drive and house, all to no avail. When she threatened the police he told her to “Fuck off you mad old bat!”. I can’t argue with his reasoning there.

GMD, being very stressed burst into tears. Why was this woman having a go at her?

Enter Jack. In full Chelsea shirt, jeans, complete with fresh Grade 1 cut. Fuming.

I went next door to ask her to complain to me and not GMD, as GMD was already under a lot of pressure. The Healer was tending her garden. Her response was to order me off of her property or “there would be trouble” and “you’ll regret this later”. I tried to argue the point that if she wanted to take that view, then she had trespassed first by walking to my front door. All to no avail. She just rebuffed me even more. I don’t believe in hitting women, no matter how obnoxious they are (unless they hit me first, then in these days of equality they’ll get a dig back)
So I resorted to the witty riposte of …..

“Or what…..you’ll get Big Bad Hornblower onto me? I am SOOOO worried”

Followed by a slightly muffled…

“You are an old bat”

Back into house, everyone is laughing. That’ll teach ‘em. Out of the corner of me eye I saw the tall, grey figure of Hornblower walking down the alley at the side of the house. To do this he would have had to open the (closed) 6 foot wooden gate. Which meant he must have stood on the wall, leant over and opened it himself.

Without my express permission.

Quiet immediately descended. Baby was at the open patio door. “Hello Hornblower” she said sweetly and oblivious to the events that had just occurred. He pushed her aside, she fell, she cried. The other children cried. They were scared. This man was obviously angry, and children are generally scared of angry men. Especially those they don’t really know. Within a few seconds Hornblower was in my front room, nose to nose with me.

Shouting.

I don’t remember what he said, but it was probably along the lines of me not having a go at his wife. I reacted by shouting back. The Grand Master told him to get out. MiddleSis screamed at him to leave. I laughed sneeringly and offered him outside with the renowned duel request of

“You fucking want some?” (repeat several times). I was aware that several people were between us, most were physically holding me back. For Jack had “lost it big time” by now. Jack was defending his family and his home. Jack was in full “flight or fight” mode and the fight element was the winner.

After a minute or so of scuffling and shouting he was ejected by a combination of MiddleSis, Grand Master and Raptor. GMS was comforting Baby and the other kids. All of this was witnessed by my friends, family and 5 people helping out who had never seen me before. In the immediate aftermath I was praised by all and sundry on showing commendable restraint and not flattening the cunt (I rarely ever use that word unless something really pisses me off and he did). I did actually correct them and say the only reason I hadn’t was because I had been STOPPED from doing so by them. When Skank turned up, his immediate suggestion was to go round and issue some summary justice, but common sense prevailed because we had all calmed down by then. MiddleSis was so upset that her children had witnessed this she called the police to complain. They arrived and did the usual note taking. They went to see Hornblower and got his side….apparently we had been parking in front of their drive for months now! Which of course is utter bollocks. The police then left and nothing happened.

As expected.

A week later we received a solicitor’s letter on behalf of Hornblower. It made the accusations regarding the parking. It alluded to my “threats of physical violence”. It threatened injunctions and legal action, plus damages. This was in danger of escalating. I rang a solicitor, who kindly asked me to read her the letter and give my account of what happened. She laughed, told me that the firm of solicitors Hornblower had used would have charged £300 for the letter, which was complete and utter legalistic bollocks, with no standing in law. Hornblower had paid to be ripped off. A second opinion from a mate who is also a solicitor confirmed this. He photocopied it to be framed in his office because it was such crap. He was also a golf mate of the solicitor who had written it and was sure he had written what he had been asked to write, whilst undoubtedly smiling at the contribution to his coffers.

To this day we have not spoken or even acknowledged each others existence. We ignore each other when we pass on the pavement or when we’re outside the front or backs of our houses. Two proud men? Or two silly fucking idiots acting like little boys?

Suits me, the bloke was a fucking nut case before this happened.

Later, Grocerjack

Arid Britain……….

So, here we are in the middle of summer. And what a glorious one it is….NOT. Since the arse end of June…...well from halfway at least...... it has been “unsettled” in weather forecasters parlance and here we are on the 7th day of July, having barely seen any sun for fuck knows how long and to cap it all we have a severe weather warning from Teletext.

Great!

And people wonder why I want to live somewhere hot when retirement/redundancy eventually occurs. So, in the faint belief that this is just a fucking blip and that (someone’s) God doesn’t really hate the British that much I went to my favourite weather site and got a forecast for my local area for the next 10 days. Here it is…….

July 7th – Rain (good for the plants)
July 8th – Rain (still turned out nice again hasn’t it)
July 9th – Showers (sometimes known as ……rain)
July 10th – Showers (errr….would that be rain then?)
July 11th – Mostly Cloudy (Ohmigod what will the flowers do without a drink
July 12th – Rain (phew…I was getting worried then – bring on the standpipes)
July 13th – Rain (Golf Umbrella anyone? Only one owner….)
July 14th – Partly cloudy (break out the factor 25 sunscreen peeps)
July 15th – Showers (Oh good! A break from…. errr…rain)
July 16th – Mostly Cloudy (well, better get my shorts out and have the Barbie ready then)

……..etcetera, etcetera as the King of Siam allegedly once said (err…. well on the stage that I saw him on he did)

However, no doubt some arseholes will still be watering the garden…..like my wanker of a next door neighbour – hereinafter known as Hornblower – yep he’s an ex-skate of the Officer kind and we DO NOT speak after THE INCIDENT last year where he pushed Baby out of the way and stood face to face with me in my front room…a story for another posting.

I wonder what the suicide rate is when the weather does this.

Anyway, come August I’m off to Florida for 3 weeks with GMD, Teenager (lets see how fucking cocky she is in the theme parks there!) and Baby (who isn’t scared of anything from what I can see). Apparently they get an hour of torrential rain each afternoon in August and then the sun gloriously returns, the temperature rises back to 30 plus degrees and everything is dry within 30 minutes. How very fucking civilised.

Anyone wanna sell a sun lamp?

Later, Grocerjack

Bleeding Hearts.....

Yep, the bleeding heart, do good, sandal wearing, beardies and wimmin are on the fucking march again. This time it's to get the smacking of children banned by law. Great idea, lets criminalise just about every parent in the UK! What about those whose children have grown up? Shall we retrospectively charge them as well? The thing that gets me about this is that apparently we are such a violent society because of the fact we occasionally reprimand our kids with a smack on the wrist or arse. Peter Allen from Radio 5Live's excellent Drive programme argued the point eloquently yesterday to a sandal wearing beardie. The beardie had stated that violence today is rife because we smack our children. Peter Allen then asserted that in fact we smack our children less these days than perhaps in Victorian times or at anytime up until the 70's. So, how come our society is more violent now than back then? We certainly never had the degree of street crime in the past that we see today. I agree, back then, even when I was a kid, it was seen as the norm to discipline children with a smack or a belt with a stick, but yet they didn't grow up to be muggers or binge drinking fighters. At least not in the volumes we see today. So, with less smacking of children we now apparently see more violence in society. The beardie struggled to answer this point, in fact he wriggled out of it in a politicians manner. Good ole Peter didn't let him off that lightly though.

Now even I know it's not that simple, but it does seem to me that a short sharp smack makes the point and shocks the child sufficiently into knowing that punishment follows bad behaviour. I also know that this is open to abuse and this can spiral into horrific conclusions as with the tragic case of Victoria Climbie, but most parents are responsible adults who do use corporal punishment very sparingly. So, the vote yesterday was one for common sense and at least has (albeit temporarily) stopped the do gooders in their tracks. I do not doubt the altruistic motives of these people, but as with everything they are misguided in their intentions. What does stopping a child's pocket money, or sweet ration do? Does a child learn from being talked to like an adult (maybe at 8 or 9 onwards)? Do they learn from such apparent punitive measures as being stopped from watching TV, or going out with friends or playing with their toys? I would argue that is a less effective punishment as the child may not relate it to the offence, especially if the misdemeanour was carried out hours or days before, or if the punishment drags on for hours or days afterwards. What they do remember is the pain of the smack, there and then! Oh yeah, and the bleeding heart sandal wearing gang say that it legitimizes assault on children where you can't do the same to an adult. Well in the interests of consistency I believe I should be able to deck the odd adult! Especially if it shuts some of the fucking idiots I work with up!

Later, Grocerjack

This Weeks Work of Art - MichaelAngelo's Pieta, 1499, currently on dislay at St. Peters Basilica, Rome. Not a picture this week, but a sculpture and quite simply one of the most amazing things I have ever clapped my beady little eyes on. It is of the Madonna cradling the body of JC himself after the crucifixion. A digital picture can never do this justice, only seeing and touching can. However, due to some idiot vandal who attacked it, probably a mad muslim, this is now behind glass. All I can really say about it is that when you see it, it is almost impossible to view it simply as a piece of shaped rock! I have seen people reduced to tears simply by its sheer magnificence and beauty. It is the only piece that MichaelAngelo actually signed (on the sash worn by the Madonna). If you go to Rome, then see this..it is a must, but you'll see so much more at the Vatican as well as a bonus! Later, Grocerjack 

The Axis of Evil……examples

An occasional series……

Number 1: Rupert Fucking Murdoch and his lackeys….

OK, the reason I have listed Rupe and gang is that I fundamentally believe this man, along with his corporate cock sucking lackeys, Rebekah Wade (The Scum...sorry Sun), Kelvin MacKenzie (Talk Shite.....sorry Sport), plus the incestuous James Murdoch (the son and heir to the Empire) are trying to undermine and one of this country’s crown jewels…The BBC. Now I know I have criticised the Beeb in the past (too many repeats, letting ITV win rights to The Premiership, Gimme Gimme Gimme etc) but fundamentally the Beeb is the only place where I would turn to get my news in a time of crisis. And yes, they get things wrong (Hutton et al) but they are publicly accountable and when this happens we all see what they do to ensure it doesn’t happen again. Unlike The Scum which rarely apologises for errors, and when it does prints them in small type on some backwater page.

Years ago I believed the licence fee was a rip off but now for £121 I think the fact that I get BBC1, BBC2, BBC3, BBC4, BBC News 24, Radio1, Radio 2, Radio 3, Radio 4, the excellent Radio 5Live , 6Music, BBC7, 5Live extra, regional radio, a top web site and a World Service listened to by 150,000,000 or so people around the globe, some of whom use this as their only real source of unbiased news and the truth of what may be happening in their part of the world, plus Christ only knows what else for 33 pence a day, with no poxy ads or pop ups is spot on value. Now Big Rupe, as Private Eye like to call him The Dirty Digger, and gang don’t think this is right. In fact they want the Beeb to be broken up, sold off and be funded via free market forces.

But The Scum has got it in for the Corporation – now with Uncle Michael Grade in the bigger chair than the DG (Mark Thompson, Grade’s chosen son) – as it prepares to make its case for the 2006 Charter renewal. The increasingly fractious and desperate, not too mention lunatic paper since Rebekah Wade was installed as Rupe’s Mouth Organ in the editor's seat, will do anything (yeah,,,anything if you ask me…) to promote Shite...sorry Sky Television and hammer the BBC in Big Rupe’s mission for world and Universal media ownership.

"The BBC has got too grand and is too large. It’s time to sell it off." says the complete fucking idiot and village fool Kelvin MacKenzie…"It would be a shameful waste of our money if the BBC were permitted to continue to squander millions competing with commercial ventures."

Twat – so you have no vested interest eh Prick. Oh yeah, 5live has the footie rights for the Premiership, you don't....and Rupe owns most of Talk Sport doesn’t he…..ooooh open that arse just a little wider Kelvin….don’t want any discomfort for the big man do you? Tell me what’s it like to be his bitch?

”But…” I hear people saying as they fold their copy of The Scum and tune the radio into Talk Shite or switch the TV onto the increasingly dire and laughable Sky One…..”why should we pay a £121 TV licence fee?" So, I repeat….. You get eight advertising-free TV channels, five advertising-free radio networks, a nation stack of national advert free digital radio networks, national radio for Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland in English and local dialects …errr with no ads, dozens of local radio stations and regional TV studios….again with no ads, the world's best website ….pop-up free and errr….no adverts, and a Government funded World Service listened to by 150,000,000 people.

Sky Television, also owned by the Big Rupe, who also owns The Scum, and has an increased shareholding in Talk Shite radio, apparently would love to remove the average British household of four hundred smackers a year. Let’s look at what you get……

Loads of mainly crap channels, including film channels that were originally ad-free but that again was quietly dropped in favour of “maximising revenue streams”.

No regional programming (like I say barely any UK programming unless you count the endless “holiday rep/ teenagers abroad/people from hell/ arses on the beach” type tabloid trash TV that Sky One shows.

20 minutes of ads per hour, including an ad break TWO MINUTES…yes TWO MINUTES after the start of the programme.

So, you pay them each month to watch shite TV plus the ads that you’re….errrr…also paying for. In anyone’s books that is absolutely outrageous (if not brilliant!)

I’ll forgive them for the excellent Sky Sports channels which are an example to both the Beeb and especially ITV on how to cover even the dullest of sports and make them seem exciting. My god , look at how they marketed the Darts as an example of supremely good marketing.

Next in the Series….yeah the Daily Facist Mail

Later, Grocerjack

Pearl necklaces and other chokers......

OK,I have added the GoGB latest set of rules within the link to the cast...please take a look and any additions are most welcome! Just email me from the link or drop a comment in.

So farewell then Holland.......nothing else to say except that all football stuff will now appear on the ChelseaBoy link which I have added to the side. This is my new area where the Chelsea and football stuff will reside whilst this blog will just continue with my inane ramblings and rantings.

So farewell then...Timbo..,Henners....President of the All English Chokers Club. I did fucking tell you all this would happen. This man (sic) is without doubt the undisputed king of the chokers. No-one compares to him. Every year he says "I can win" in that whiny fucking voice, every year the wimpiest pumping fist comes into action (I've seen sites about that!) and every year loads of dumb arsed, stupid, gullible middle class housewives and bored fucking students turn up at Wimpledon (pun intended) to cheer this absolute Mr Nice Guy No Hoper fucking loser on, when for the rest of the fucking year they couldn't give two shits about Tennis or Tosser Tim.

And every fucking year he loses.

As for these so called fans, and this apparent Henmania, well I don't see them avidly travelling the world to watch their once a year choker , unlike our heroic long suffering football, cricket and rugby fans. Nah, once a year they make their way to Henman Hill in the increasingly faint and desperate hope that he might win. Nope,it ain't gonna happen. Still, as we will no doubt hear and read over the next few days..there's always next year. No doubt we'll keep wheeling out the real winners such as McEnroe or Becker to reassure us long suffering English fans (coz the Scots, Welsh and Irish sure as hell don't give a shit about him)that we can have a winner. We really are a desperate nation, clinging onto any faint hope that some sort of sporting prowess will make us love ourselves again, and make the world like us again.

Perhaps if we stopped thinking we were the dogs bollocks and had a divine right to win things that might help. Perhaps if we stopped sticking our nose into other peoples business that might help. Perhaps if we embraced other nations instead of treating them as "Johnny Foreigners" that might help. Better still, if we dropped the notion of honourable unlucky heroic failures from our national pysche and adopted the US/Aussie/German....frankly the rest of the world mentality that WINNING IS EVERYTHING instead of bringing our kids up, like we were bought up to believe that taking part, and doing your best was honourable enough, then we might start winning things. And people might like us for more than our spending power again. Just a thought.

Still laughing about the nature of Big Chiefs departure...proof that what goes around..comes around. Proof also that Seagull Management, whereby you fly in, screech loudly, shit on people and then fly off will eventually rebound at some point. Because at some point you'll shit on an Eagle (nice USA link Jack!)and they will always fucking beat a Seagull.

Please also have a look at the Diamond Geezer link because tis is the dogs danglies of blogs at the moment. Diamond Geezer obviously has more time than me. I can only aspire to this level of blogging.

Later, GrocerJack

Pipes, Tubes and Strings…….

Well fucking well….the Big Chief has resigned for “personal reasons” and "to pursue other career interests". Interesting when you consider how may careers he fucked up here during his tenure. Interesting also when you consider good people were devalued, humiliated and "eased" out of the company. The Big Chief reports to the Head Chief who in turn reports to the European Head Chief who in turn reports to The Global World President (El Presidente). Apparently The Big Chief worked for The Head Chief some time ago and they hated each other then, and it seems things are no different today. Head Chief is a yank, Big Chief is Canadian so methinks there might be some traditional geographical rivalry here. After all Head Chief’s position is just that notch above Big Chief, which loosely relates to the relationship between the good ol’ US of A and Canada….yeah alright the gap is much bigger on the world stage whatever Canadians might like to think. Anyway Big Chief was a fucking ignorant rude, ill mannered, foul tempered pig of a man, whereas Head Chief seems very…….LA West Coast….almost a greying hippy. He seems very calm and one can imagine him meditating, or passing a spliff amongst his senior team. Apparently when Head Chief was appointed (6 months ago) Big Chief found out via the internal company intranet…errr exactly the same way as the rest of us plebs! The proverbial shit hit the fan then and Big Chief spent the day in his office with the door locked, bottom lip unfurled the length of the office and with his phone switched off. For this sulk alone, added to the obvious inferiority complex he has (or will get) by being usurped yet again by a representative of Uncle Sam this miserable piece of ignorant scum gets full membership of the GoGb (see postings passim). Welcome aboard Big Chief. If I ever see you after you’ve left…..expect some intense fucking verbal abuse. I hope it fucking hurts.

That means yet another re-org as Apprentice Big Chief takes over shortly and will undoubtedly want to “mark his territory” by putting his mark of Cain upon our somewhat unjolly and demotivated department. Another change for The Company’s High Tech Pipes, Tubes and Strings department. Will this affect Jack…who knows? But if I were the Sandman or the Sandman’s boss (yep that makes me that low in the organisation) hereinafter known as The Godfather, then I might be worried because they will be under the microscope first.

Tubes of a different kind now………….some comment on the tube strike, Bob Crow (Big Chief of the RMT – does that stand for Robbers, Muggers and Twats?) is a fucking prat and a Millwall fan to boot. He calls strikes for shite reasons such as “public safety”…or “the future of our transport system” ….yeah dress it up as a public spirited action eh Bob! When he uses these bullshit reasons all I can think of is he’s a liar and a wanker. If he just came straight out and said “I’m a tub thumping socialist radical trouble making bastard who wants to make a name for myself” then that would be fine, but to hang this shite on the tenuous premise of being public spirited is just complete bollocks. However, in defence of this strike I have to defend the RMT and Mr Brainless Crow. Striking for a decent days pay is well within the law and is justified. For too long in this country we have doffed our caps to the Government or Big Companies and allowed them to shaft us in order to deliver “shareholder value” or cut costs. Britain sold its workers souls down the river under Thatch and New Labour Nannies have done fuck all to re-dress the balance. So, like the French do, I applaud strikes done for the apparently selfish reason of “more pay” . Its time we re-discovered our balls in this country instead of meekly accepting everything the government (national and local) and our employers do to us. Bob “brainless” Crow…I take my hat off to you and your Union on this occasion.

Fucked your journey to work has it? Some solutions to get over this happening again

1.) Get your employer to install Broadband and then use VPN technology to work from home as if you were in the office..its both cheap and dead easy
2.) Buy a pushbike to do the 5 mile journey to work
3.) Get a job outside London (like I did)
4.) Walk
5.) Use the overground railways
6.) Use buses…there are fucking thousands of them
7.) Throw a sickie
8.) Take a well earned days holiday
9.) By a scooter or motorbike
10.) Walk down the tube routes…Ok that’s impractical…electrocution and all that……….wait……..why not shut the tubes down and convert them to well lit, warm underground footpaths and cycle paths! Blimey we could have underground shops and even underground flats for those die-hard commuters. Can anyone think of an objection to this? Apart from making a few mangy old rats homeless this seems an environmentally friendly and cheap to run alternative.

Fuck me I really like that last idea! Apart from the fact that I actually enjoy riding the Tube no matter how desperate it is getting. In fact, my real view is that we should extend the tube to all Towns and Cities, incorporated with systems similar to the DLR (Docklands Light Railway) and then link all the cities with High Speed (and I mean 150mph plus) train links run by a nationalised organisation at no profit, but as a public service and yes….heavily subsidized by taxpayers like they do in France. Life is not all about profit.

Later, Grocerjack

This Weeks Work of Art - The Old Market in Rouen - by Camille Pissaro (1830-1903). Painted in 1898 and currently on display at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Pissaro was very acclaimed whilst alive and can claim to have Paul Gaugin and Paul Cezanne amongst his pupils, as well as the American Impressionist Mary Cassat.

I don't know what grabs me about this picture as it goes against most of what I like, in that its an almost traditional picture. Pissaro himself is classed as a French Impressionist, although the level of impressionism is lower in this that you might see in a Monet. It just seems to me that the artist has captured the absolute essence of a market in a French provincial town that would stand its ground even today. In a sense its almost claustrophobic, with all the buildings huddled together and the people bustling their way through. The use of colour is interesting as well, with predominant use of beige and light brown with flashes of Orange and Green to bring the eye to certain areas of the painting. It isn't as challenging as some of the stuff I like, but it is simplistic in certain ways and good on the eye. Perhaps thats the appeal. Comments? 

A bad week continues…….grumpy as hell

Although the week wasn’t that bad for me apart from the Sven disaster, my friend The Major and The Major’s Wife had a very bad week. The Majors Wife had a close friend who died suddenly and the funeral was last Tuesday. She was very distraught, as most of us would be at the death of anyone close, related or not. On Wednesday she went into work and was made redundant on the spot – no notice, fuck all. So confidence slid alarmingly. On Friday The Major went in to work……yeah you guessed it…only to be made redundant with no notice. What a shitty week for them. Of course as friends we are all trying to help, and Frankly The Major seems quite matter of fact about his loss of job as he was expected to work ludicrous hours for little pay and virtually no holiday. In a way he sees it as a bit of an opportunity to get a new start. I wonder if I could deal with something like this so dispassionately…..could I bollocks!

Today I received an email from the company I bought Theme Park Tickets from. A year ago we booked for the holiday in Florida, the one off for the kids that you’re almost obliged to do at some point. We got a great deal on the villa and booked 3 weeks in August. Then the email arrived – the company selling the Theme tickets has gone into administration….fucking joy! £1200 may well be down the pan. I bought them on May 24th, so all we can hope for is that the credit card will cover us via insurance. It has shaken my faith in Internet Shopping big time, and after all the re-orgs at work, the cuts in money by loss of standby, and GMD’s contract in London finally finishing we could do without potentially lobbing £1200 into some crooked bastards pocket. As you may gather this has made me very fucking annoyed…watch this space to see if I can put enough rockets up arses to not be out of pocket. So, plenty of diplomacy required then…..perhaps GMD should do it then!

So, the US hands power to Iraq two days early then. How about 6 months too late! I, like a lot of people am tiring of the daily stories of death and destruction emanating from Iraq and if this belated gesture helps bring the violence to an end (although I doubt it) then that can only be for the good.

No sleep, bad emails, sad friends, shite weather, study backlog, stroppy daughter (more on Teenager later)….no wonder today feels rather bleak


Later, Grocerjack

If only...number 3 in a periodic series of ...if only pics. Note the authors name!Apparently Becks has vowed to continue as Captain, which is wrong in my view. However, I do wonder if the recent Sun/News of the Screws revelations fucked his mind up a bit? They certainly didn't help, so thanks to Rupert Murdoch and your scumbag, low-life cockroach journalists in your moronic arse wipe papers. Job well done!  

The truth about last night? 

Things I know about football……..or Grocerjack 4-Sven Fuckwit 3

Sven’s team talks at half time must be shit because when we come out for second halves we look like a lost cause (as when we played Argentina, Brazil, France and now Portugal). I remember after losing to Brazil, a senior player, when asked what was said at half time quoted "We wanted Winston Churchill...we got Ian Duncan-Smith". Nuff said.

Sven got the tactics and substitutions terribly wrong last night. He sent huge signs of capitulation with those last two substitutions

Scolari (the Portuguese coach) kicked every ball, headed every header, felt every tackle. Sven looked a little exasperated at best, and McLaren sighed occasionally. Bring on Sam Allardyce and get the passion back.

Defending a one goal lead is tantamount to suicide, it rarely works.

English footballers are chokers as are most English sportsmen/women (Rugby team are exceptions for the time being). Stand up Tim Henman, the supreme choker and Life president of ECC (English Choker Club).

In the Premiership all of those players would be trying to score goals, so why do they heed what Sven says?

We are shit at penalties

Beckham is not a leader – time to hand the captaincy on. Maybe like Botham he can then be the player he was two years ago.

Why take Joe Cole and Kieron Dyer and then bring on Phil Neville and Owen Hargreaves? At least Cole (greedy) and Dyer (fast) would try and take the game to Portugal.

Phil Neville wouldn’t get in my local pub team. Never darken the England team again.

Owen Hargreaves in NOT international class, he’d struggle playing for Leicester

Emile Heskey is absolved from blame as he didn’t play last night. Still a donkey though.

David James should hand over to Kirkland from Liverpool and quick

Paul Scholes cannot perform for England. He is a spent force.

Ashley Cole was superb (that hurts coming from a Chelsea fan), so was Sol Campbell.

Hats off to Gary Neville, Frank Lampard, Michael Owen, Stephen Gerrard

For me the tournament is over. I have 6 football free weeks until the Premiership starts.

I will never see England win a major football tournament in my lifetime (1966 doesn’t count because I was only 4 at the time!)

I am emotionally spent and cannot summon enough to pledge allegiance to any of the remaining teams, even my adopted future homeland of France.

From now on it must be Club (my beloved Chelsea) before Country for me. I do not have enough emotional and passionate currency for both. When Sven goes I will allow myself to be bothered again.

I know the last statement will disappear at the next England game,

I know my Club will let me down at some point this coming season.

Later, Grocerjack

if only 2........ 

If only..... 

Auf Wiedersehen Deutschland....

So, farewell then Germany. They played to the same game plan as Italy did when they failed to qualify, and the same game plan England used unsuccessfully against France - i.e protect a one goal lead. Too risky and the price was paid. So, thats 3 big names out at the Group stage and tonight is Englands big night. I was torn over this. On one hand do I treat it like a Chelsea game and isolate myself from the world, or do I invite my friends over and go through the unfurling drama with them? In essence my Chelsea policy remains sacred, and so I have decided to watch the game with a few mates and some beers. It will be agony. There may be some ecstasy. If it comes down to penalties then I will wear my "I can't hear you la la la " hat and wander off to the fields near my house. Penalty shoot outs must be endured in an isolated place both blind from the action, and deafened to the ambient noise of cheers or groans. I have adopted this policy 3 times for England now, and we have lost on all 3 occasions, surely it must work at some point?

The GoGB now has an academy and now offers the following development opportunities for the fairer sex

Training courses now available for women:-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

1. Silence, the Final Frontier: Where no Woman has gone before.
2. The Undiscovered side of banking: Making Deposits
3. Combating the Imelda Marcos Syndrome: You Don't Need New Shoes Everyday.
4. Parties: Going without new outfits
5. Man Management: Discover how household chores can wait until after the game.
6. Bathroom Etiquette 1: Men need Space in the Bathroom cabinet too
7. Bathroom Etiquette 2: His razor is His
8. Communication Skills 1: Tears - The last resort, not the first
9. Communication Skills 2: Thinking before speaking
10. Communication Skills 3: Getting What you Want, Without Nagging
11. Driving a car Safely: A skill you CAN acquire
12. Party Etiquette: Drinking your fair share
13. Telephone Skills: How to hang up
14. Introduction to Parking
15. Introduction to Petrol
16. Advanced Parking: Reversing into a space
17. Advanced Petrol: How to take the filler cap off
18. Water retention: Fact or Fat
19. Cooking 1: Bran and Tofu are Not for Human Consumption
20. Cooking 2: How Not to Inflict Your Diet on other people
21. PMT: Your Problem...Not His
22. Dancing: Sober Men Don't Like To
23. Sex - It's for the Married Couple too
24. Classic Clothing: Wearing Clothes you already have
25. Household Dust: A Harmless Natural Occurrence only Women notice

Later, Grocerjack

One of those days……

This morning I had a meeting with The Walrus, minus his new assistant, Wee Lassie. Wee Lassie is not a reference to her being a dog, more of where she comes from. Which is Scotland. She is lovely, jet black long hair, elfin face, pale white skin and a great figure. She is 25, therefore I am firmly in the realms of GoGB crisis. I should concentrate when she’s there, but I guess for purely genetic reasons I just can’t! Anyway before I digress into a spiral of mid life crisis - I was spared this dilemma this morning because she wasn’t around. The Walrus interrupted me at every possible opportunity, didn’t listen to anything I said, sponged a coffee from me and sat there with his vast belly showing through an undone button in his shirt. I don’t remember finishing a sentence. After 15 minutes of a 90 minute scheduled meeting I was starting to lose my patience with him to the point where I wanted to walk away or smack him one, but then the phone rang. It was The Mysterious M – I was never so glad to have to answer the phone to my boss! His message was short and sweet - I now own the relationship with Big Telephone Company and Desperate Dan Ltd (they won the tender against all odds for outsourcing some of our work) and I will also be picking up my new team in around 3 weeks.

Within seconds of saying “Thanks M” I realised my opportunity here. The phone was dead but I carried on an imaginary conversation along the lines of

Jack: OK M, but I’m sure we covered that off
The Imaginary M: silence

Jack: Well, if you say so, but can it really be that urgent?
The Imaginary M: silence

Jack: You’re asking me to shelve a lot of plans for today…
The Imaginary M: silence

Jack: Well, I guess if Big Chief wants it done I have no choice…what…he asked specifically for me…well I suppose that’s a compliment then
The Imaginary M: silence

Jack: OK M, I’ll get right on it, I’m sure no-one will mind me cancelling meetings for the next 2 days…
The Imaginary M: silence

Jack: See you in 5 minutes for the full debrief then….
The Imaginary M: silence
The Walrus: Listen mate, it sounds like you’ve got bigger fish to fry…..I’ll leave you to it….Good Luck…and if you need any help…well you know….I’m always happy to help you

And with that he was gone.

And was it my imagination but was he looking sad and lonely?

I feel guilty

Why?

He was a complete pain, rude, ignorant, arrogant and judgemental. Am I getting soft? Even 3 months ago I wouldn’t have given a shit and would have said something (diplomatically) to his face, but now I’m reduced to false phone conversations. What the fuck is happening? Should I call him and tell him the truth? What happens next time if he is like this? Or does he know the truth and didn’t want to hurt my feelings?

Management Gobbledygook Bollocks talk…

Try this for size, this is the latest from Big Chief (two levels above The Sandman)
Summer is here... We have had a bad run in May in terms of keeping all the systems up and in-service; hopefully we will have a better June. The financial results for April and May are stable but not quite hitting the mark at the top line, but seem OK at the bottom line. Today we will sit as the investment committee in order to significantly reduce the number of active, inactive and proposed projects …wish us luck... we have never been terribly successful at this... Why ... to focus and increase efficiency….and effectiveness. Even though we have more CAPEX than ever before, the number of projects contending for investment and resource commitment for technology and humans is higher than ever before, and even though we never reduce the total number of projects to exactly fit the budget (because projects often under spend against the business case)... we need to get a bit closer and to leverage more synergies from our global positioning within a UK context.

Clear? Concise? Inspiring?

Or just complete bollocks?

Later, Grocerjack

A Quickie

The Belfry was tough, very tough, with punishing rough, bunkers with sides like the North face of The Eiger, greens so fast it was like putting on glass. Sunday we all got gloriously pissed and the organisers took every opportunity to take our money...for Charity of course. All in all we raised around £5,000 which The Company will match so £10,000 overall, which is no mean feat. I drove home listening to the England/Croatia match...it was torture but it alone was responsible for keeping me awake at the wheel.

Tonight I appear to have slept for 6 months! I had a small doze when I got in from work...when I woke it was cold, the sky was dark grey, a gale force wind was blowing, and the rain was absolutely torrential....therefore I can only conclude that it is now December and Chrismas is near. Dontcha just love the British Summer? Still, I guess all the health facists who run and hide whenever our nearest star rears its glorious but rare yellow face will be happy, along with those people who moan the minute it hits 70 and like wearing coats all year round. Umbrella anyone......?

Euro 2004 comment

Well done to Sven Fuckwit! Yep, the boy dun well. We played good passing and attacking football, without fear or trepidation and got what we needed to progress to a quarter final match against the hosts Portugal. Wayne Rooney was sheer class, but I hope the media don't pressurise him like they did with Gascoigne and ultimately lead him down a self destructive path in the same way. As for any criticisms, well it would be churlish to pick out any players as they all contributed to an exciting and enthralling game. Anyone notice how when Heskey has no involvement we actually win games?

But before we all start offering Sven a national blow job, lets see if we can get to the semi's and better still win the fucking tournament and add to the pride that the guys who play the game with odd shaped balls bought to us when winning the World Big Peanut Hugging and Egg Chasing Cup.

There, Humble Pie slice well and truly eaten.....happy now?

So,farewell then Spain.....once again the bridesmaid but never the bride. You always promise so much and deliver so little...perhaps our Government could find a role for you? With that pedigree you'd fit perfectly into a role running the UK!

So, farewell then Italy. Once again,you came, you saw, you defended, you bored people and you got your just desserts. Maybe you should look to England to see how sometimes it can be good to attack the opposition (blimey another huge slice of Humble Pie for me please).

Tomorrow night its either Holland or Germany to bite the dust. Holland are probably the better side and for the good of the tournament it would be nice to see them through, although they will be a handful to beat, but Germany are nowhere near the force of old and would dull other teams into submission. Altogether now... Dear Lord, Let Germany lose, let Germany lose, PLEASE LET GERMANY LOSE !

Joke - What do you call an Arsenal fan holding a bottle of Champagne?

.......Waiter!


Later,Grocerjack

This weeks Work of Art - another superb piece from the great man Van Gogh. This is called The Night Cafe. Full of evocative atmosphere, when you stand close you feel like you are actually entering the Cafe. Ask yourself these questions to help the critique - is the guy waiting for you to play billiards with him, or has he just beaten you? Is he looking at you, or past you? Is he friendly or wary? Are the couple at the back married or just "friends", and the 2 people on the right - are they plotting? Drunk? What are they talking about? Are they talking? And what could be in the room at the back..another bar? A brothel? The clock says 10 past 12, but is that afternoon or night - just because it is called The Night Cafe may be a diversionary tactic by Van Gogh. There is just so much happening , or potentially happening, or has happened that this painting can grip for hours. An absolute masterpiece and the first one I had to do a critique on when I did my Art History course with the OU. I hope you like it, but if not then please comment one way or the other. Later, Grocerjack  

Euro Footie Comment......

Tonight we saw the Mighty Germans play out a 0-0 draw against a battling side in nthe "minnows" of Latvia. Right after this was the game of the tournament and probably the best international match for some years. The Czech Republic beat Holland 3-2 in a real end to end thriller, with 37 shots on goal, a sending off (unjustified), fantastic striking of the ball, great passing and top class goalkeeping. But what really made it stand out was that Holland had a 2-0 lead and the Czechs fought back with 3 quality goals. This means the Czechs are through to the quarter finals and means Germany must beat them to go through. If they draw and Holland beat Latvia then Holland will progress, which would be the fairest result as the Dutch played a much more open and skilful game than the Germans. I hope the England boys were watching.

No blogs for a few days now as I am playing golf for the next 2 days at the annual company golf bash. The company always match the proceeds of the days and last year 60-odd golfers raised in excess of £4000 for charity, which the company doubled. This year we are playing the Belfry and quite frankly I'm shitting myself. I'm taking about 30 balls just in case!

Later, Grocerjack

A Quickie

I thought we played shit against the Swiss, but at least the result was right for us. However, unlike the press I will not get carried away with the idea that we can win this tournament - we are distinctly average and if we meet Sweden, France or Italy I think they'd all roll over us. If we get past Croatia then perhaps we can improve as the tournament goes on, but our previous history doesn't really back the view that we can win.

Gary Mann, the idiot firefighter convicted in Portugal is set free by Uxbridge magistrates on bail and seems unlikely to serve his sentence of 2 years. Seems my "anonymous" comment poster was right about wishy washy judges because this stinks. Great, so now he can go and get pissed and start a ruck in a pub in this country. No wonder this country is going downhill when we overturn decisions made in a democratic country with similar laws to ourselves. All of this despite independent English witnesses who pointed the finger at him in court.

Anyway, I'm just off to rob the local bank, doesn't matter if I get caught because with the right judge I'll probably get a commendation!

Later, Grocerjack

Big day.....

Well, it's finally here, the day we've all been waiting for. The Big One. We've been here before, we've suffered the pain of watching defeat snatched from the jaws of victory, we've followed the thrills and spills, the incidents, the bad decisions, the inspired genius of top class sportsman at the peak of their capabilities, we've seen their form slump and felt for them as it withered on the vine. The passion, the tension, moments of heart stopping brilliance, and of seeing people choke on the tension. And all to try and win the big one, the prize that eludes all but the very best....

Yep....the US Open starts today and can a Brit bring home the bacon for the first time since Tony Jacklin? Or will Tiger Woods game rise like a Phoenix from the ashes of a disastrous year top once again conquer all before him. My money is on Vijay Singh, or Ernie Els.

Euro 2004 Comment

Apparently we'll playing the diamond formation with Frank Lampard from my beloved Chelsea playing in a defensive midfield role, in front of the back four. Paul Scholes will sit behind the front two acting as playmaker (sic..surely) . Well done Sven Fuckwit, Frank Lampard has scored 16 goals for Chelsea this season in a flat midfield four, he scored against Iceland when England reverted to a normal 4-4-2, and then against France he scored again. So, play him out of position, ask him to curb his natural instinct to go forward and score, and play Paul Scholes who hasn't scored for 3 years in an England shirt as the forward midfield player. Lets hope I'm eating humble pie later tonight when Sven Fuckwit proves me wrong!

Later, Grocerjack

Little Englanders...or wankers as I like to call them

So, once again the good (sic) name of this country is undermined by a bunch of mindless thick jingoistic morons...and I don't mean our new crop of Tory and UKIP Euro MP's! Nope, Im referring to the fucking idiots parading as England fans and lobbing tables and chairs into bars and at people in Albufeira. I've never been to Portugal, and frankly Albufeira doesn't sound like my sort of place, but many thousands of law abiding Brits (which includes us English) go each year.Undoubtedly some will get pissed and have a ruck before getting nicked, they'd do that here in Nottingham or Southampton City Centres. But this lot seem intent on showing how macho, hard and funny they are and mistakenly believe their defending the honour of England in some sort of team handed bullshit pseudo-war. The Portuguese, as with the rest of Europe seem unfailingly warm and friendly to us but do our "fans" care? Do they bollocks! I am a football fan, I suffer for my love of the game when watching my beloved Chelsea, or my country England, but I don't feel the need to show my superiority by abusing other fans, or other countries, I just suffer and then get on with life.

So, those that are nicked - bang them up until the Tournament is over, freeze any assets they may have, then try them, jail them for say 3 years in Portugal, with remuneration for the costs to Portugal from all of their assets with the shortfall being made up by our Government. So, after 3 years they are deported, no passports re-issued for 20 years and they are also potless. Too hard? Tough shit!

Later, Grocerjack

Another meeting with Mysterious M

Today I had a “scoping” meeting with my boss, the Mysterious M. It was called this so as to not give too much away to the nosy bastards who have no better life than to look at my diary to see what I’m doing that day. I would imagine this amounts to none, but we appear to working in an environment of ever increasing paranoia where information is most definitely power. Anyway, within the next couple of weeks I will be picking up my new team, a small one of 5 people. A title has yet to be determined but “Performance and Change Management” seems likely. Now, 4 months ago I was running a team of 22 people and constantly answering calls and replying to emails or attending meetings. There is little that depresses me more than a day of back to back meetings. Anyway doing that was a bit like being a teacher at an unruly comprehensive, with people constantly asking things, unable to make their own decisions or doing what the hell they wanted and hiding it from you. Despite this they were a good bunch, but this feels like I’m ready to dip back into the world of managing people and to be honest I find myself enjoying my work more and more now the shock of not being battered daily has worn off. I like to think I am a good coach of people and perhaps after my tirade against Sven Fuckwit I can put my own theories to the test once again on how to motivate and mobilise people. After all my initial distrust and cynicism it appears the Mysterious M really does like me and rates my abilities, which is a compliment in anyone’s eyes.

However, watch this space for some more cracking Management Gobbledygook Bollocks Talk very soon.

Euro 2004 Comment

Paul Scholes will be fit after all for tomorrows “crunch” game against the Swiss – bollocks. I stick to my guns here – as a coach you pick the form players, not stay with some misplaced loyalty on players who have not done the business for months. Sven Fuckwit – loyalty can be an admirable trait, but misplaced loyalty will be your downfall. Great game last night between Germany and Holland, with 2 teams showing real dislike for each other matched with mutual respect to give an absorbing, exciting and tense game. Whatever you think about the mechanical nature of the Germans you cannot fail to admire their resilience and mental attitude. The Dutch however seem to mentally all over the shop, but got through the game on their skill and determination not to let the Germans put one ovcer on them. In the end the Dutch Masters went from the beautiful game of passing along the floor, to “hoofing” the ball 70 yards to the big centre forward. Still, whatever lights your candle and gets the job done.



Later, Grocerjack

This weeks work of Art - Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte by Geoerges Seurat. Its not modern or controversial, but I love this and am looking to buy a recreation in oil of this. A much underrated artist is Mr Seurat. I believe he used "dots" to create the image rather than traditional painterly styles. 

Late thoughts.....

Paul Scholes is injured and may not be fit for Thursdays game against the Swiss - fucking excellent news!

UKIP win 17% of the vote for Europe and promise "to undermine the Euro Parliamanet at every opportunity" - can't wait for the merger with the BNP - fucking racist Little Englanders trying to put an acceptable face on it. If leave Europe we'll be virtually bankrupted - do they really think the US will give a shit then, do they really think the US will up our trade quotas and drop restrictions to help us out...yeah right.

Sven Fuckwit says " the 3 substitutes came and and all done very well" - sounds like young Mr Grace - yep Sven Heskey did a fantastic job of kicking a fench player to give a way a free kick to the best dead ball player in the world to let him score etc etc ..ad infinitum

Caroline Dickinsons killer gets 30 years - its too fucking good for him, but even in a French jail, I'll give him less than a year before he tops himself or someone does it for him

I have an infected toe, and by Christ its painful, todays golf at Croxy's was bloody sore! My sore throat appears to sinus related, apparently the contents seep onto my throat through the night and cause it to dry up - yeah lovely. So to add to my Hayfever tablets, Asthma inhaler (reactive), asthma inhaler (preventative) I will now have a nasal spray and anti-biotics for 2 weeks. I may need a handbag to carry this lot around in - anyone know where I can get a cheap Burbery?

Later, Grocerjack

Vive Le France!

Oh dear, my adopted future homeland (France) gave my current one a bit of a hiding last night. I had tried to veer away from footie in the last few weeks as the season had taken its toll on me and I was a bit shagged out. But last night was too much to bear. For the neutrals and the non-footie fans it must have been compelling theatre as wave after wave of French attack pummelled the England defence. I sat and watched with some mates and we all thought the second half performance, whilst brave and stoic, was also cheating the fans. Why do we feel the best policy is defending at all costs? We are as good as these teams but we get a goal up (well done SuperFrank) and against these so called better teams (Portugal 2000, Argentina 2002, Brazil 2002 and France 2004) we just seem to capitulate. You cannot in any game , be it Rugby, Cricket or whatever show these teams too much respect because they’ll see the fear and then hammer you. Perhaps its our daft sense of fair play but my feeling is its more to do with a lack of belief.

The problem then comes down to one man – Fuckwit II, the return of the Fuckwit clan. Yep, Fuckwit Ranierii has gone, but we still have some around and Sven is a fully paid up member of the Fuckwit Clan. Unlike the rest of the nation, including the sycophantic press and broadcast media I think Sven is a twat. Sorry, don’t mean to offend…a fucking twat! How he had the sheer bollocks to come out smiling after that game and say we played well and didn’t deserve to lose is beyond me. We allowed ourselves to be hammered for 45 minutes, we came out and started like a team that knew it couldn’t hold on to the slender lead. What I want is a coach who can inspire and motivate the players, and make them believe they’re all fucking Pele or Maradona (the drug free one!), and Sven is too cool, too dispassionate and too calm for me. I want passion, I want tears, I want tea cups thrown at half time, I want the players to get the “hair dryer” treatment, or get a cuddle or whatever it takes to life THEM mentally.

I want Mike Bassett England manager (as portrayed by the ever excellent Ricky Tomlinson). Failing that bring back the wideboy cockney barra boy geezer that is El Tel Venables. There is no way he would have allowed the team to cave in against the French, who were undoubtedly good, but not unbeatable. They won because they never stopped believing, even after getting a late equaliser My belief is that at that level, whatever the sport, the technical difference in capability and skill is minimal, but what counts…what makes winners is in the mind. Its mental attitude and we lacked a lot of that last night. A quote that I really like that I use to try and help me perform better is this

“Whether you think you can, or whether you think you can’t, you’re probably right” (Henry Ford..a long time ago)

Later, Grocerjack

I'm off to the pub....

You know how quite things were the other week when GMD, Teenager and Baby were on Sunny Tropical Island for a week. Well last weekend was a return to normalish chaos, but tonight has exploded into anarchy. GMD and The Kings Wife were chatting in our kitchen this afternoon, hence the obligatory wine bottle was opened. Only I think it ws more than a bottle. I was called four times on the way home with varying instructions on what to pick up (unfortunately, young, gorgeous,latin bird wasn't amongst them). I duly did this but instantly new that things were a bit socially relaxed by the tone of GMD's voice. No problem, she works hard and she deserves a little bit of quality time to relax. When I got home, to my horror I had forgotten the Virgin Vie party. For the uninitiated this is a piss up where they try and buy make up - a sort of Avon for the 21st Century. But...not only is my house full of laughing, slightly drunk women...but their kids are all here as well...upstairs in the kids romms. There are around 12 of them NOT including Teenager and Baby. In Room 1 (Baby's) we have the under 10's (incl) playing Busted as loud as posible, with Friends on the TV in the background - all girls. In Room 2 we have the over 11's, giggling and sqealing, playing Emin-fucking-em, 50-fucking-Cent and associated other bollocks to the dulcet background of mobiles receiving texts and photos....from each other - again all girls! Room 3 (the lounge) is now full of cackling,laughing, drinking women. I am the only testosterone carrier in the near vicinity.

Overall my house is now a candidate from Room 101.

I need some Guinness and quick.......have a good weekend....

Later, Grocerjack

Call that choice?

Popped into the voting booth tonight. What a choice, vote for New Nanny labour - nope, they need a rocket up their arse. Vote for "Howards Way - We don't quite know what to think of Europe" Tories - I'd rather eat a freshly laid dog turd. UKIP - racism dressed as patriotism - if this lot ever get in I'm off to live in the United Sates of Europe, with lower interest rates, better life style, more sun etc etc. Nah, I like a single malt and so does Charlie Kennedy apparently, plus he seems a decent bloke, so the Lib Dems got my local and Europe vote. Not much of a choice, but I still hold with the view that a crap choice is better than none, and my guess is most others, especially those who have lived under dictatorships would agree.

Assignement news - I have managed to write 1456 words so far! Only about 500 to go to be in or around the required 2000 word mark. Sometimes I amaze myself.

Fancy being outraged? Read this Telegraph article and tell me this isn't the sign of a society gone fucking mad. If I was this bloke I would sue the police. As far as I can see he was merely carrying out the same effect as a speed camera. How the fuck can the police and magistrates call this an offence? The offence is that this sort of utterly fucked up collage of bollocks is completely allowed in the so called great country of ours. If this doesn't convince you of the fact that speeding arrests are a revenue raising exercise then nothing will. As Littlejohn might say (fat wanker though he is)..you couldn't make it up.

Later, Grocerjack

The End of the course...

Hmmm, having just read Crox's page I would like to assure everyone that my life is not all holidays and courses! I'm afraid this one and the one in July are necessary evils if I want to stay employed for a while longer, or be more employable should the ever present company issue Sword of Damocles hit the target.

The kids have finally gone home now. Maybe they all need some sleep after the stresses of the last 3 days (sic). One actually paid me a compliment of sorts today along the lines of "I was so glad we had someone here who deals with this stuff, it has made it much clearer". Thats either nice , or patronising an oldie! Anyway, I expect they're all out clubbing, drinking alcopops, snorting Coke or dropping E's as an end of course steam letting session.

Strangely I got to like some of them in a paternal sort of way.

Baby had a summer concert last night at her school, which lost me 2 valuable hours of study. But she is a great little singer and really puts emotion into it. It made the heart strings go just watching her and seeing her smile back at me. The concert finished off with her music teachers Irish Folk band coming and doing a few numbers. Great fun, but it would be significantly enhanced if Guinness had been avaiable. In fact a bar would have upped the proportion of parents willing to join in the songs. Thanks to my Irish parentage I did know most of the songs. When we got outside baby had a nosebleed which lasted for nearly an hour. She got very upset and shaky as this is the worst she's had.She has inherited my hayfever and I put it down to that tempered with her excitement at doing the concert. As you may be able to tell, I would wrap her in cotton wool if I could! Teenager is still stroppy, with an alarming increase in "blonde moments". She is very close to me limiting her internet MSN times, and limiting her mobile usage. She does think she is an adult, but then when she was ill the other day (now a monthly occurence), one can see the confusion between the child and near adult and then I do really feel for her. Its awkward for boys, but for girls it must seem like torture at times.

This week is now dedicated to my next assignment due on Saturday

Assess the following conditional claim: “If the Standard Social Science Model is mistaken, then we are less altruistic than would otherwise be the case”

God help me (although if Darwin is to be believed, he can't, because he doesn't exist!)


Later, Grocerjack

This weeks work of Art (an occasional addition to the blog) - I and The Village by Marc Chagall (1887-1985), painted in 1911,oil on canvas. What hits me is the colour and "wholeness" of the picture. Like he has captured the whole village in one non-conformist cubist rectangle. This is held at The Museum of Modern Art in New York - I will see this one day. Chagall is renowned for his distinctive use of color and form, which is derived partly from Russian expressionism and was allegedly influenced decisively by French cubism.
 

A sea of gormless faces

Oh dear, I hear the sounds of bubbles being burst as the "kids" in my Kindergarten class suddenly realise what a dull old piece of shit Project Management is. I think they saw a glamourous role, one of motivating people, picking teams, driving the project, being the hub of all the activities, making decisions, controlling budgets, analysing risk...which is what it should be, but within The Company it is no more than a glorified admin/secretary role. It is a role of no power, no influence, with no glamour or credit. Project Managers are universally hated because they do not actually manage projects. They annoy and harass people, they use the words "I'll escalate..." near enough every hour, they drop the CEO's name in at every opportunity to try and scare people into prioritising their project...yeah like he gives a shit that X can connect to Y to provide a test platform!. They cannot or will not report bad things to the Project Board.The team I had hated them to a man/woman. I have personally saved too many Project Managers necks whilst risking my own.

So why am I doing the course? Job preservation.....if I get the (almost universally accepted) accreditation then if and when the axe falls its a ready made job in any other organisation...yep its dull, but it'll keep the wolves from the door until I decide what the full future career is for me. I may not fit The Company's view of what a Project manager should be (because I am argumentative, not pushed around, speak my mind, think as an individual and am not a yes man) but I'll bullshit,lie and grovel to get a job in another company in order to keep earning enough money to keep Jack's lifestyle roughly where it is now. And I've worked with enough shit Project Managers to know exactly how to be a fucking good one!

And yes, that probably does make me a hyprocritical, underhand , conniving, cheating and lying bastard....but I'll just put that down to male genetic programming (thanks Charlie Darwin)

Just one more day with the blank tableau minds and gormless faces that are the kids on the course and then back to my normal life.

Later , Grocerjack

How to feel old……

Step 1:

Book yourself onto a Project Management Foundations course

Step 2:

Walk into the room where the course is being held

Step 3:

Find familiar face and sit next to them. Chat for 5 minutes until he realises he is in the wrong room. Swear internally.

Step 4:

Gaze around room; allow heart to sink as everyone else is so obviously young. Note the number of people with weird piercing’s in eyebrows, upper ear lobes, bottom lip. Note vacant expressions on their faces

Step 5:

Look to instructor, again let heart sink as you realise it’s a Salman Rushdie clone. But he’s at least 50

Step 6:

Die a little more as the introductions are done, including age!

Step 7:

Be mortified as you hear this (abridged to cut the usual crap and names changed to protect the thick)

Screamer : Hi , I’m Screamer and I’m 26 (upper ear lobe pierced…twice)
Y viva Espana: Hi, I’m Y Viva Espana, and I am 24 (very deep Spanish accent, but gorgeous young bird- forgiven)
Ignoramous: Hi. I’m Ignoramous, and I am 30. I was sent here for development (like it’s a fucking stretch in choky)
Timid: Hi, I’m Timid (speak up you wuss) and I’m 26 (unless you get more assertive you’ll probably die of fright next time a Daddy Longlegs flies in the room)
Punk : Hi, I’m Punk and I’m Twenty fucking Two (Ok, I added the fucking bit there, but it’s pissing me off - eyebrow and lip pierced, possibly brain stem as well)


And so on, 6 more times, with ages ranging from 23 to 27

Jack (thinks) : Please let me fucking die now, no personalities, no brains, all think their great, all are going to be so sadly let down as they grow older….cynical…moi?

Jack (says) : Hi, I’m Jack and I’m 42………
Jack (thinks) : Why are they smiling? Couldn’t at least one of them shake their head in disbelief?

Salman : Ok, I’m Salman and I’m 43 ……..
Jack (thinks): fuck me I can’t look that bad….why is he looking at me? Oh god he thinks we’re “age buddies”…how shit is your luck?

I have another 2 days of this torture. No word of a lie, it’s like being at Kindergarten. If anyone ever says age makes no difference……..THEY ARE EITHER DELUDED, STUPID, BARKING or SAD, possibly all four, but they are also VERY, VERY WRONG

Later, Grocerjack

Testing a photoblogging option - this is may favourite ever piece of art - hangs on my wall (well a print does) with pride of place. If this works then more photos may be forthcoming 

Its ...Oh so quiet....

Yep, its been a good week, batteries are fully recharged. The house has been deadly quiet, I've kept it tidy and my studies are almost back on schedule (with a few skipped corners.....natch). Things is when it's like this my whole demeanour just settles down and so I have not posted. Although this may be partly due to the copious amounts of Guinness drunk each night!! My golf has also improved from Spain, with a course ripping 92 (well ripping for me - a net 4 under par after the handicap)at The Meon Valley Country Club (or The Marriott as it really is) and a 95 on my home course which is even par. Encouraging, and maybe to do with the fact I have been so relaxed this week. Of course normal chaos returns tomorrow and this weekend we have been invited to barbecues on both days.

A quick thought though........wouldn't it be great if we all stopped buying petrol and diesel for a few days and refused to travel to work on the basis that we couldn't afford it. I'm totally in favour of civil disobedience over this kind of thing. The French have done it for years because they still have balls whilst we lie on our backs and let the government and the big corporations shaft us. And don't even get me on the Nannying over obesity. Yep, we'll eat organic, healthy food when it's as cheap to buy and easy to get hold of as crap fast food. At the moment that choice is limited, we have less hours in the day to ourselves, no local stores any more, so daily shopping for fresh stuff doesn't appear viable. Again, go to France, where food is taken seriously - most supermarkets have 1 aisle for frozen food, all the rest is fresh. They shop each day because they have shops with fresh and cheap food, and they don't work 14 hour days because it is seen as something honourable, it is part of their culture, they take eating seriously, and they make it a family occasion. When was the last time most of us sat down and ate as a family?

Later, Grocerjack