Old Man Rich

Hubble bubble

2010-04-23T14:19:00.000+01:00

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/8638263.stm
First image, top left, is it me or is god giving us the finger?

I'm Spartacus

2010-03-27T08:05:00.005Z

So its the joy of new life.

Its not creepy, horrific, alien resurrection-esque at all.

or so I keep telling myself.

So I used to love her but..

2010-03-14T22:33:00.002Z

Layed the carpet in Hannah's room. (sorted the door. Its a bit up and down and I'm missing a knuckle but its a result).
Now its a long time since I've layed a carpet, but have to say it was a cracking job. Just needed the scissors to trim a few ends. Couldn't find the scissors. And there was this strange bulge in the middle of the floor.
So, between laying the carpet and lifting it to retrieve the scissors the room changed shape. Not by much. Just a few mill. Just enough to make the not quite fitted carpet look crap!

There was language.
Still Hannah liked it. So much she helpfully cleaned the windows with vaseline.
"look rich - its all shiney'.

Just twenty years and I'm in a care home. :-)

hallowed turf

2010-03-14T22:10:00.003Z

My daddy took me to twickenham for the Irish game.

What to say - it was a grand day out.

It was a four oclock kick off. Which is just wrong. So we set of a bit later than usual. And got a bit drunker than usual. Slight problem as the river was high we failed to make the white cross and found the much loved 'something begginging with A' more by luck than judgement. But reached twickers before the anthem and may have had an overpriced keg crap pint. Or two.

The rugby in the first half was awful.

The rugby in the second half was exciting. (but still piss poor).

The least bad team won. Unfortunately not us, but ho hum.

It was a grand day out.

and three genuine conversations from the toilets at Twickers... (all in an irish accent)...

"boys, we need to up the pace. twenty miniutes in and I'm still not pissing blood"

(from the cubical) "Whats the f**ing score. Anyone. Please. Five quid for a fucking ref link and there's no fucking reception. If I was going to see the game I wouldnt need the f***ing ref comentry now would I? So whats the f**ing score? Barry? Anyone? ..... F*** me. There's no F**ing Paper...."

and

"we need to eat. We need to eat after..."

"after the game or after the piss?"

"well........Fucked if I know"

it was a grand day out.

I am the go of hellfire and I bring you...

2010-03-03T16:53:00.003Z

So I'm fitting a carpet in what will shortly be Hannahs room. Because I'm naturally gifted at D.I.Y. And the door is going to catch. Unfortunately its an old plank door who's hinges are solid paint. So even if I could get it off I'd never get it on again. So how to remove 5mm from the bottom? I know! I'll use my angle grinder. What can go wrong.

Well. What can go wrong is that the door catches fire. Just waiting for the smoke to clear and its on to plan B.

So, I’m going to be a daddy.

2010-03-03T15:29:00.000Z

Amazing isn’t is. Somewhere inside my lovely Mrs a collection of gunk is fermenting away and forming little Spartacus. Or something like that. It’s all horribly biological. It makes me a little queasy just thinking about it. And it makes the Mrs more than a little queasy. What sort of evolutionary survival trick is morning sickness? She is also polishing of the ginger nuts at an alarming rate.
And what if it’s a ginger. There is a worrying amount of ginger in my family tree. Facing the 20 years of financial ruin is bad enough but with a ging? Are you still allowed to leave them on the hillside for the wolves? And the suggestion that I’d be more likely to attend the birth if we got a pool in the back room of the crown went down like a lead balloon.
So it’s a traumatic time. But am I getting any sympathy. None.

'ware the beastie

2010-03-01T18:58:00.002Z

my new friends

2010-02-22T09:28:00.003Z

So what does a man facing imminent fatherhood and the associate financial ruin do?
He buys a fish tank of course.

Actually its an old tank I had in the garage. But as part of the process of moving my beloved and her daughter into chez rich their fish needed to move. And his tank was much to small. (yes, I know you successfully kept a pet goldfish for thirty seven years in a teacup, but on the whole bigger is better with fish tanks). So I set up this 3 foot fish emporium and bought Anthony (or Emily depending on what mood Hannah is in) a few friends.

Its a long time since I kept fish and I had forgotten how much pleasure can be had in just watching a fish tank. Needless to say the long list of outstanding jobs around chez rich did not get any smaller this weekend.

Blimey !!!

2010-02-21T23:24:00.003Z

its not that clear but its 2 bars... a direct hit.

The girl from albrighton...

2010-01-30T09:18:00.003Z

she say YES !

Rubber fun

2010-01-29T11:23:00.001Z

I received a pile of paperwork trussed up with a giant elastic band, which I put in my pocket.
So later I am idly playing with said band. Like you do.
And I wrap it around my head a couple of times to get the comedy Quasimodo look.
Like you do.

At which point the lift doors open.
No promotion for me again this year.

decorating

2010-01-24T15:05:00.003Z

So, with a view to moving the girlfriend/potential carer and child/demon into chez rich we're decorating the box room for Hannah.
First this means moving out the computer & sticking it downstairs. Ok. No problem. I do that & invest in a wireless set up. So I read the instructions (not very blokey I'm afraid) and, in order to install I need the computer connected to the modem. But the computer is downstairs & the modem is upstairs. That's why I need wireless you fools. So I'm without Internet. (blogging from work. naughty but its Sunday & once again I'm doing unpaid overtime so sod em)

But its Sunday, Deb is at work, Hannah is at Nannies & I have no porn. :-(

And the box room is now a fairly garish yellow rather than the tasteful magnolia of yesterday. Its vile in every way and I'm very pleased with it.
Because its not, despite all mums prompting, Pink. Result.

To Dave or not to Dave

2010-01-17T11:06:00.003Z

So that nice multimillionaire Mr Cameron tells me I don't need money to raise a child. All you need is love. And, obviously, to make sure that nanny tells nursie to remove the silver spoon from babies mouth before feeding.

Still, I find myself agreeing with tax breaks for married couples. Obviously, anyone reasonable includes civil partnerships and living together as if you are married, as we're a secular state. But, it seems reasonable that if one of you is a full time domestic and/or parent and is being supported by your partner rather than claiming huge amounts of benefit then you could share your unused tax allowance with your partner.
And good ol' David is going to implement this.

Ahh, no. My mistake. Dave would 'like' to do this. (provided your actually married and not some hideous queers or disgusting hippy couple) But he isn't actually going to do it.

So, Gordon Brown would like to end world poverty, combat global warming, massively fund public services and make Britain a global economic powerhouse but can't actually do it.
Dave C would like a tax break for married couples but can't actually do it. Talk about aiming high...

As I walk down the hill I pass a huge poster of a heavily airbrushed David Cameron looking down with a strangely bland expression. And I have this huge desire to spray paint the words "This man is a complete F***witt" across it.
Remarkably, as I proceed back up the hill after several pints I do not forfill this desire. With age comes wisdom. Or possibly apathy.

Tolerance

2010-01-11T20:30:00.005Z

Its the Saturday before Christmas.
So, its carol singers and mince pies at the crown.
Deb has spent hours making her mincemeat & baking. OMR knocks some mince pies up.
And , OMR takes first place in the mince pie competition. Deb is unplaced. Its fair to say Rich gloats.
And has a celebratory ale or two.
And a little girl from the local paper awards me with my master baker certificate. And I give her a kiss. Possibly a little more enthusiastically than she is entirely happy with. She looks a bit shocked. So I do it again. :-)

Of course, I make it up to Deb at Christmas - by leaving her at home whilst I go to Gambia with Dad & Anna.

You can keep your white christmas. 35 and sunny. Now thats festive.

Some people may wonder why Deb puts up with me. Its because I'm damned pretty.

hic

2010-01-11T20:27:00.001Z

ok. very drunk on that last one.
(guess who's girlfriend works on sunday nights?)

erm

2010-01-10T22:13:00.002Z

ok. I'm a bit drunk. Like George B was a bit of a C***.
Except I can sober up. Maybe.

I live in fear of a tory landslide. Accepted Geordon brown is not PM material. But he is world class financialy. US let leman go, world going into meltdown and GB says no, dont do this, do this. World folllows and, given history, saves a lot of arses. Brilliaint chancellor. Shite PM.

Gorden Brown? complete arse? Yes!
but better the devil you know...

Happy new decade

2010-01-05T22:09:00.002Z

Hi all. Its been a while. But 2010, swear I'm gonna blog. At least once a week. Honest.
Well, we'll see.

So, Happy new decade one and all.

I'm afraid the blogs going to be a bit disjointed for a while, Talking about things that happened a while ago. Or haven't happened yet. Bear with me. will get back onto a sensible timeline soon.

Most important news is I'm still in love. A year this new year. Long time since anyone tolerated me that long. What to say. She's very pretty, especially her bottom. Has a three year old whose an angel (except at 3 am or mealtimes, when she's possessed of the devil). Want to talk all about them but that's a bit of an intrusion so I will skirt around that bit of my life. Except to say I'm very happy. And sometimes I just wont be able to restrain myself. Bear with me.

So apart from the remarkable fact that this confirmed bachelor & old person has found a young and beautiful hottie? what else? Oh lots and lots. But not copenhagen. Unless I'm back from a killing spree and my rage has not abated.

2010. Feel its going to be a good year.

B.O.

2009-02-07T09:04:00.003Z

Now on the whole I am pleased that ol' B.O. got in. Better than the last guy, right? I mean, chance of credible forign policy, not in the hands of big business, IQ over 4. So it goes on.
Except.
He wants to get a dog for his children. And he wants a mutt. But he's having trouble finding the right mutt. See, old George wouldnt have problems. He'd go out & get that dog. And if that means waterboarding a few animal hospice staff, and maybe invading a forign country or two where they may be hiding dogs, so be it.
Come on B.O., take a lead on the dog issue (geddit?).

Do I need HRT ?

2009-01-30T14:51:00.003Z

So, the young lady I am seeing is 'petite'. To say the least. More than a foot shorter than me. Considerably less than half my weight. A size 6. Needless to say, when I stand next to her I look like some huge shambling ogre. But, since when I stand away from her I look like some huge shambling ogre thats fine.
But I'm in a hotel in Milton Keynes & trying to oggle the women. And now they all look massive. This is not good. Then I realise that I'm actually quite enjoying the pint of John Smiths thats the nearest thing to Beer the hotel serve.

I Urgently require a night of real ale and internet porn. Fortunately its friday....

Dateing Update

2009-01-20T11:39:00.002Z

Apparently I'm a bit too lippy when I kiss.
Absolutely no idea what that means!
On the plus side apparently my ears arn't big in proportion to my head. Hmm.
She also questioned the attractiveness of my vast collection of checked lumberjack shirts. Has She no taste? (well, no, she's dateing me).

Still, she does have a remarkably cute bottom.

man flue? no - I'm ill. Honest.

2009-01-09T12:54:00.003Z

Lots of blogs today. I'm off work ill. No, really. I'm actually wasting perfectly good sick leave being sick.
On Saturday I went up the wrekin with Monkey. It was lovely up there. The hill broke through the fog so it was in bright sunshine. The fog hid everything below, just a white sea across to the malverns, long mynd & assorted other high places who's names I should know. Then on the way down I slipped on the ice. Somehow my stick (hand carved by pygmies in darkest Zaire) ended up under me. Fortunately it snapped, rather than my spine, but I gave my shoulder (the good one) a bit of a knock. And so I chose to lay there for a while. Assorted old people offered to help me up & monkey laughed.
Sunday I was fine. Had a date Sunday. More on that in future blogs (but its going good). Then on Monday I couldn't stand. My back was knackered & all my joints ached. Sickie. Tuesday the back was better, but the joint pain was worse. & I was sweating and shivering. Then the throat went. Damn it, Tonsillitis. Been off all week. To be honest, I probably could/should have gone in today. It still feels like I'm swallowing razors but everything else is fine. I'm sure I'll make it to the pub tonight.
Normally I give up beer for a month in order to detox & lose weight after Christmas. But the Tonsillitis has caused me to sweat off half a stone & radio 4's today program told me that detox was a myth. Who am I to argue.?

First stones and all that

2009-01-09T12:38:00.002Z

Now, I'm not a big fan of the Israeli's. I have a certain sympathy for the Arabs who suddenly found their homeland given away. But not enough sympathy to think it justifies tying explosives to your children & putting them on buses. Lets share the blame, there is plenty to go around.

But today apparently a British minister condemned Israels latest military incursion into Gaza. Now lets get this straight. On the basis that Iraq might be developing weapons which may, one day, possibly be used against us we invaded their country. (According to the Times, via google), this resulted in over 150,000 civilian casualties. Israel are actually having rockets fired at them, they have caused (according to the BBC today) an estimated two hundred and something civilian casualties. And were condemning them. Just a hint of double standards do you think.?

Now I want a ceasefire in Gaza. I want everyone to be friends. big up to world peace. (its a hangover from my time as a telly tubby). But even the Americans are staying fairly neutral on this one. Until we are prepared to send Tony to the Hague I suggest we shut up & let the less morally bankrupt do the talking.

Christmas at chez rich

2009-01-09T11:54:00.003Z

yeah, sorry. But due to the brief(ish) pause in my inane rambling there is going to be some retrospective blogging. The timeline may get a little confused. Consider yourself in irregular orbit around a black hole, wandering back and forth across the event horizon. Or not as the case may be.

So earlier in the year my Pa and his good lady Anna were staying. And we had a few medicinal beers. And the subject of Christmas came up. "why not have Christmas at chez rich" says I. "I can cook Christmas diner, Phil, Sue & the child devils can come up, It will be great". At this point let me make it clear, I have no intention of this actually happening. Its a really bad idea. Someone will point this out. Someone will stop this dead in its tracks. Alas & alack. Never, I repeat never, make assumptions about the intelligence of others. Ok, maybe my family are not dumb. Maybe they just hate me. But, against all odds they decided that Christmas at chez rich was a good idea. Oh you pitiful fools.

Well, it was great to see them come, and great to see them go, it was just the bit in the middle...

Actually, lets be honest, I loved it. The kids were great (well, as children massively high on santa induced adrenalin overload can be) and monkeys dad gave me a spare telly so I could banish them & their new Wii to the party room. Anna did most of the cooking & I took all of the glory. My Bro spent an entire day tring to construct a lego batmobile & failed miserably (ho ho ho). Once again I bought my sister in law underwear & once again she refused to model it for me.

I bought the kids ukelele's, mainly to accelerate my brothers hair loss. And I gave Matt a jar of pickled sprouts, which he somehow forgot to take with him. No worries, they keep, I can give them to him again next year.

happy new year

2009-01-08T19:56:00.004Z

It was -5C. allegedly. A night for thermals. Unless your stupid. Several fools met at chez rich where Monkey made mulled wine that was, quite frankly, moose urine. And bad moose urine at that.
Then , because were all party people deep down (or do I mean retards) - we donned fancy dress...

I elected to go as a green telly tubby.....

Now on the the minus side, there is no convenient way of going to the toilet - not smart on a night which, in all likelyhood, will involve an ale or two. On the plus side, I'm gonna pull. I mean look at me. I'm so cute. Even I fancy me! ok. Maybe not. Lets place bets.

So what venue did we select for our evenings festivities? somewhere different, somewhere trendy? Dont be an arse - we went to the crown of course. And there was a certain amount of beering. There is a rumour that I may have danced. Fortunately I mastered the art of telly tubby peepee & did not have to use the emergency scissors in my man bag to create a fly. more luck, my camera batteries died shortly after we arrived. Unfortunately other peoples did not. Apparently there are piccies online. I dont know where however, so we are spared the gorey details.

Anyway damn fine time was had by all. At least, all that mattered. i.e. me. And remember that little bet we had? yup. OMR pulled. by Golly. OMR is dating !!! more about that in future blogs. possibly.

http://www.crown.oakengates.net/2009/01/new-years-eve-pics/

zztt zztzzts - my god, its alive...

2009-01-03T10:13:00.002Z

Apologies one and all. Because I work in IT I have this compelling & completely misguided belief that I can dismantle my PC, rebuild it & it will still work. So, after a fun weekend with a screwdriver - no PC. And, since I can't blog at work at the moment, no blog.
But at Christmas I treated myself to a shiney new PC & now I'm back. And the plan is that I won't bugger about with this one.
Except that there are a few bits from the previous computer that I'm sure I can plumb in. So it already resembles a partially decomposed octopus sprawled across my desk.
Still, it will be fun whilst it lasts...

Just drinking beer & watching the world pass by

2008-07-28T11:40:00.000+01:00

So I’m sitting in a pub in Newcastle. Looking out of the window, which overlooks a pedestrian crossing. And three little girls dressed as cheerleaders turn up and wait to cross. I guess they are five or six, full red cheerleaders outfits including tinsel pompoms. Disgustingly cute. And then a fire engine comes along, and although the lights are green it stops & the driver waves the children across. But the crossing still shows the red man. And one little girl clearly thinks they should cross. An one little girl isn’t crossing until the man goes green, And the third little girl is clearly just thinking wow, there’s a fire engine, and is waving at the firemen. Who are laughing and waving back. Fortunately, the man turns green & the three girls hold hands & cross the road. And when they get across a fireman leans out and says something, I cant hear what, but the girls are giggling & waving & the fire engine beeps its horn & drives off, all the firemen waving.

Ten minute later two very attractive young women approach the crossing. Late teens, early twenties, visually pleasing. One is wearing a long white skirt. A gust of wind lifts her skirt and I get a pleasant flash of tanned thighs and white thong. And somehow her skirt gets caught in her earring. So she’s screaming and flashing her knickers to the world whilst her friend is creased up with laughter.

Sometimes life is just good.

it could be worse

2008-07-13T14:40:00.002+01:00

Two Massive Days for English Cricket on Friday & Saturday, With England amassing a glorious 593 dec & South Africa forced to follow on.
And today (Sunday) I should be in Glorious sun kissed Lords with my Bro & Pa. Unfortunately I have to work & so my Nephew has my ticket.

Still, although I am less than grutled, Its is some small recompense that today SA are 88 without loss and, in possibly one of the most boring mornings cricket ever seen in averaging under 2 an over.

bad luck Mattie....

34FF – Blimey!

2008-07-09T10:57:00.000+01:00

I have a couple of bat boxes in my garden. And a huge supply of midges. But no sign of any Bats wanting to come and live at chez Rich.
But now I learn that Bats want something a little more comfy ...
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/norfolk/7496923.stm

Dink & James

2008-07-01T11:50:00.003+01:00

Dink & James got washed up on the british coast this winter. They are a couple of young loggerhead turtles, not designed to function in the sort of temperatures you get in British waters. Remarkably, they got fixed up & packed off on a one way trip to Gran Canaria & released back into the wild.

Ok Ok, so its probably not cost effective conservation & Dink & James will probably choke to death on a plastic bag soon but still, nice.

Date for the Diary

2008-06-29T11:58:00.002+01:00

Hah, blogs are like busses, none for ages then two turn up at once.

Anyway , Just a reminder that the anual festival of burnt meat takes place at chez Rich on Sat 9th August, kicking off about 2 ish. Should you find yourself wandering aimlessly in the Telford area about then do drop in.

As you can see I am finally getting round to restoring my links. And by a masterpiece of cutting and pasting it appears that your either in there twice or not at all. Hmm. This is simple incompetence & not a measure of my love for you.

dumty-dumpty-dah-dah-dumpty (recognise the tune?)

2008-06-29T11:16:00.002+01:00

Hello.
Seems like ages since I blogged.
Because it is.
Work is actually making me earn my living at the moment and that, alongside my alcohol consumption commitments at the crown, leaves precious little time for blogging.

Still, I'm here now. And have just liberated 2 packets of Nerds from the mystical sweetie pile at work. Anyway, I had fun making red and yellow asteriod fields across my desk & then hoovering them up through a biro tube. And I am now experiencing a serious suger rush. There are also lots of little red & yellow marks across the printed outputs I'm supposed to be checking. ho hum.

And on the subject of nothing much in particular, yesterday I ate an entire pineapple. And I find my self wondering how many pineapples you need to fill one of those little bottles of pineapple juice.

sunshiney day

2008-06-09T14:54:00.002+01:00

yesterday I was clearing what will eventually be my vegtable patch and I spent too long in the sun, or got stung by too many nettles. Either way I came over all peculiar in the evening. It was a strange and unpleasant feeling.

but today I am well. Weller than usual for a monday since I didnt go a drinking sunday night.
and I poped home lunchtime to mow my lawn.
A multitude of frogs were sitting on rocks around pond 2 sunning themselves. And one was actually sitting on a lilly leaf in a rather cliched fashion.
Anyway, I decided the pond needed topping up and put the hose on. And I must have broken the surface tension or something because the lilly leaf slowly sunk. And the frog just sat there, going down with his ship. Now its dificult to read frogs expresions but I think mildly disgruntled is about right.

the sound of breaking glass

2008-06-01T11:15:00.002+01:00

Its a lovely day and I'm mowing the lawn.
And there is a stone.
which fires out at huge speed, narrowly missing my leg.
Well guess I was lucky, hey?
actually, no. Because they fix legs on the NHS.
Unlike hugely expensive patio windows.

Some serious sulking followed.

zzzzzzz...Pink.

2008-05-28T11:57:00.002+01:00

So I'm lying in the Bath. Listening to the wind howl. And there's this buzzing sound.
bzzzz
like a load of bees.
It gets louder.
Then there's this 'pink' sound.
and again.
Then the room is filled with disturbing shadows. And the ceiling lamp contains half a dozen wasps, disturbingly magnified by the glass.
Hmm, wet and naked, electricity and wasps? What shall I do?
common sence prevails & I leg it.
This moring the lamp is full of dead wasps & little fried wasp boddies plug the hole into the ceiling. I decide to leave well alone and shower in the fairy princess room.

So at the weekend it appears I need to remove a wasps nest from my loft space. You just know thats going to turn out well.

These boots were made...

2008-05-28T11:48:00.002+01:00

...for holding large quantities of water apparently.
On Saturday Myself & Monkey set of to walk the long Mynd.
I slapped on the sun cream, squeezed my belly over the wasteband of my shorts an prepared for a pleasant stroll across the sun kissed moor. I should have been suspicious when Monkey turned up in full waterproofs, gloves and a wooly hat. It blew a gale & pissed down.
Despite this the walk across the bottom & up ashes hollow was fairly pleasant, if a little damp. But on the top it was grim. My cagaul ceased to be waterproof. My boots filled with water. My legs turned a very strange shade of pink.
Then the map turned to pulp. And some how we got turned around and couldnt find Carding mill valley. Eventually we came down the road. Safe to say I was not a happy camper.
Still a dozen pints of hobsons and last place in the Crown pub quiz put me in a better frame of mind.

Ring of Fire

2008-05-06T16:22:00.001+01:00

After a long and glorious bank holiday I find myself on Monday evening with an empty fridge. In fact, the only thing in the house is a small can of chillies bought over from Mexico by a friend of my dads.
So, its chillies for tea.
Eat one chilli.
And they are red hot. Real killers. I need bread. Or anything. But the cupboard is bare.
Except, there are some out of date weetabix. Ok, dried weetabix is a bit like eating sawdust but desperate times call for desperate measures. So, one hideous dried breakfast snack later and the crying stops & my tongue returns to a semblance of normal.
I wont be dumb enough to do that again.
Except that there are about 10 chilli’s in the tin an it would be a shame to waste them.
By chilli number 4 the weetabix are finished.
On number six I attempt to ease the pain by spreading toothpaste on my tongue. It doesn’t help. Finally I am in considerable trouble and resort to licking the carpet, but the tin is finished.

And at 8 am on Tuesday, in a cubical at Sandbach services I'm experiencing a full Johnny Cash moment

And it burns, burns, burns….

Hooray for spring

2008-04-27T11:41:00.002+01:00

Its spring. And eveything grows apace at chez rich. Well, I say everything. Nettles mainly. Being away means the yard has been a bit negleted. My seedlings in the greenhouse are just not growing. I'm not sure why. I can't think that my presence makes that much difference. But just in case I spent an hour in the greenhouse yesterday cheering them on. I even made a little growing song...

grow. grow, grow up big and stong,
grow, grow, it shouldnt take this long,
grow, grow, grow up nice and tall,
grow you little F***ers or I will compost you all.

Ok, its not shakespeare, but a suitable combination of encouragement & threat I felt. Lets hope they get the message. Something has eaten my runner bean and marrow seedlings. All of them. I dont think its slugs as I pellet heavily. I know, I know, and outside I am organic. But in the greenhouses I pellet & spray. So if its not slugs I'm thinking mice. So I am going to get a humane trap. But, working away all week means that its not exactly that humane. Still, I'm sure that mice can go for days without food & water... or is that camels? God, I hope I've not got camels in the greenhouse.

I also created a swamp area in the wildlife area for some water Iris and marsh marigolds and thinned the vegitation in the wildlife pond. The pond is heaving with tadpoles at the moment so should have a good crop of frogs to thin the slug population a bit. And there are a few bumble bees buzzing lazily between the primroses. I saw my first butterfly of the year and the blackbirds are decidedly frisky. Yes, its spring and its good.

Too tall to shave

2008-04-27T11:21:00.002+01:00

Hotel living is taking its toll. I split my work trousers last week. It appears the only vagely smart trousers I can still get into are my funeral suite or my pimp trousers. And the latter, which I'm wearing to work, are a little snug. I have to undo the top button to sit & the site of a pretty girl in a short skirt bending left me singing like a choir boy for several days.

Still they keep giving me huge suites at the hotel. But last weeks was disabled friendly. So the sink is two foot from the floor. Which is doubtless great if your in a wheelchair. But if your 6'2" you have to kneel to shave. And I have bad knees, so I'm growing a beard. On the plus side, there was a seat in the shower.

big room

2008-04-15T08:43:00.000+01:00

I’m working away. And I have the biggest hotel room ever. Two king sized double beds, 3 wardrobes, a settee and still its sparsely furnished. I so wish I had bought a set of bowls.
Big hotel room.
Big, Big, biggest hotel room.
16 meters from door to balcony.
As you can probably tell, I am sadly excited by this fact. It rather demonstrates the sad depths to which my non life has fallen.

I’m a lumberjack

2008-03-25T08:16:00.001Z

I have mastered the wood burner. It makes some peculiar noises and causes some radiators to shake violently (and sometimes get warm) but it goes. It consumes wood at a huge rate but keeps the house lovely and toasty.

It also means I get to split logs with my new axe. Very manly. I have a checked shirt and eat squirrels. Ok, I don’t eat squirrels but I do ‘dress in women’s clothes’ on occasion.

So, I’m throwing logs into the fire and spraying around lighter fuel with gay abandon. And I set fire to my jumper. Which I sensibly remove. In some haste. Without removing my glasses. Which snap. The only spare pair I can find are shades. Very dark shades.

So, I’m walking to work. Not to be healthy. Not to save the environment. But because I can’t see. Oh joy.

OMR 0 – Wood-burner 1

2008-03-19T09:39:00.001Z

The heating at chez rich is a little temperamental. And once again it has decided not to heat upstairs. However, the downstairs radiators compensate by glowing a dull red & the warmth percolates up. Sort of. And not in the fairy princess room as its above the party room. Which has no radiator. So its freezing in there & I have the folks coming to stay at Easter.

However, whilst lacking in heating in the modern sense, the party room does have a big black cast iron wood burner. With a back-boiler that supplements the heating. It has stood unused for two years. But firing it up will, surely, heat up the place & might even kick the heating back into life.

So, I pile in the kindling & newspaper and a few logs, open the vents and lob in a match. The amount of smoke is truly impressive. It billows out, fills the party room, rolls into the hall & up the stairs. Everywhere is filled with smoke, except by the looks of it, the wood-burner chimney.

So I run round opening windows & shutting doors. And throw a damp tea towel on the fire. Which simply makes things worse. So I shut the wood-burner doors, close the vents and let it die a smouldering death.

So, the house is not just cold any more. No, now its cold and stinks of smoke.

As an interesting footnote. Whilst clearing out the wood-burner I discover a strange lever around the back that, yup, opens and closes the chimney flue. Well, you live and learn. I feel a rematch coming on.

There is just something very funny about the word anus...

2008-03-18T11:50:00.001Z

A German pensioner is suing a hospital after she checked in for an operation on her leg - and woke up to find she had been given a new anus.

10 years? - seems longer. much, much longer.

2008-03-13T11:59:00.003Z

Today my old boss dropped by with a shiny new watch for me. Because I've been with the company 10 years. Wahey. Free watch. And my ex boss is younger, prettier and much more successful than me. And points out she's never stayed anywhere for 10 years. And suddenly its less of a free watch and more of another nail in the coffin.
Still, only 23 more years & I can retire.

Can we fix it?

2008-03-10T11:41:00.000Z

So, I’m laying a laminate floor in my kitchen. And, despite the fact that my DIY skills are nil & there are numerous difficult cuts required I am, due to financial constraints, doing this all by myself.

Having totally screwed up the first few cuts I decided to invest in a workbench. Some assembly required. So I assembled it on Saturday night after a day in the pub watching England fail to play rugby. Now, the law of averages says I should have got at least one bit right. But no, in the harsh light of Sunday morning it becomes apparent that I have the legs the wrong way round so they slope inwards instead of outwards. The top is back to front and even the braces are upside-down. Ho hum. Still rather than fix it I decide to press on. And, surprisingly, the floor is looking ok. So its taken an age, there has been a certain amount of language, but its ¾ laid & looking alright.

But I have accidently sawn the end off the top of my new workbench.

Earthquake

2008-02-27T12:27:00.000Z

Its just about midnight. And I wake up for some unknown reason. Just in time to see my wardrobe doors all open simultaneously. Its more than a bit creepy. I become convinced someone is in the house. I go downstairs & check all the rooms. In my paranoia I check the garden & then actually lock my doors. Finally, I decide it’s a full bladder that’s disturbed me, use the facilities and return to bed.

This morning I learn its an earthquake. A massive 5.1 on the Richter scale, centred in Market Rasin, with Telford, or at least my wardrobes, rocked by aftershocks. Ok, so its fortunately not the tens of thousands dead in Pakistan type earthquake. Never the less, the earth gods are angry and must be appeased. But where the hell do you find a virgin in Telford?

Badgers

2008-02-27T08:58:00.002Z

Badgers are a vector for bovine TB. Which is on the increase in the UK. However, scientists have long held the view that badger culling would not reduce incidences of bovine TB and may increase the range of any remaining badgers and so in some cases increase the spread of bovine TB. Bovine TB, they say is best controlled by increased testing and restrictions on cattle movement.
The farmers, of course, want to kill all the badgers.
So the Krebs trial was initiated. They took 30 100km square areas of the country and compared the effects of not culling, proactive culling and reactive culling. Broadly speaking there was no difference between not culling and proative culling. Unless of course your a badger. The reactive culling trials were suspended after a significant increase in the spread of bovine TB. So, it cost us tax payers 7 million pounds a year to prove the point but badger culling is a waste of time and money.
Of course, whats hard science compared with the traditional agricultural wisdom aquired through centuaries of rural inbreeding. We townies obviously dont understand the ways of the country. Why should farmers face the cost of increased testing and restrictions on cattle movement when they can simply go badger butchering? Fortunately farmers are a minority and in a wonderful democracy like the UK and public opinion, vastly anti badger culling, and scientific widom, vastly anti badger culling, will always prevail.

so today MP's have backed calls for a badger cull. Because, and this is the only explanation I can come up with, they are a bunch of complete fuckwitts.

Frog Porn

2008-02-26T10:01:00.002Z

For me, its not the primroses or crocus that herald spring. Its the frog sex. On saturday one end of the wildlife pond was a seeting mass of frogs. Gently croaking and going at it like, well, frogs. I counted at least 20 but I think there were a lot more. A full on frog orgy.
And three days later half the pond is a solid mass of frogspawn and they are still at it.
yeah. go frogs !!!

space salad

2008-02-20T13:27:00.004Z

Because my kitchen is a work in progress I am living on prepacked salads. mmmm. And they always have a huge blob of mayo on top. Into which the free plastic fork is invariably burried. This is becoming more and more anoying with each passing day.

I mean we can build this ....

so surely a sensibly packed salad is not to much to ask.

which stall?

2008-02-07T15:44:00.000Z

The gents at the crown is a work in progress and currently only has a single urinal.
This is mounted ridiculously low on the wall so that if your a tall man with short pipe work like OMR then your chances of the initial flow meeting the porcelain are not good.
And made considerably worse by several or more ales.

Still, a single urinal does at least avoid this: http://www.ananova.com/news/story/sm_2717636.html?menu=news.quirkies

So, for you blokes who drink in establishments with slightly larger facilities than the crown (or ladies who can't wait for the queue to the trap) there's this:
http://gamescene.com/The_Urinal_Game.html

Free Nuts ?

2008-02-07T14:52:00.000Z

Hah. I have no kitchen. No water. No electric. No appliances No units. (although it does now have a ceiling which is a plus). The new kitchen is scattered throughout the rest of the house. I insulated the loft space above my to be kitchen yesterday evening and seem to be suffering an allergic reaction to the fibreglass. Work is fast becoming unpleasant as the scope of my role seems ever growing whilst my timescales are ever shrinking. England were humiliated by Wales in the rugby last weekend. I have a stinking hangover and am two thirds through a 400g pack of salted cashew nuts & feeling quite sick.

My point. Well on the back of said nuts it says “We’ll refund and replace if you are not 100% happy”. And, quite clearly, I’m not 100% happy. In fact I'm bordering on damn miserable. So its off to www.asda.com to moan about my life and get my £1.80 refund.

apologies for the loss of signal

2008-01-25T08:12:00.000Z

meanwhile, here's a useful piece of knowledge, particularly for you teachers...

http://www.howmanyfiveyearoldscouldyoutakeinafight.com/

I work in IT

2008-01-09T13:34:00.000Z

So it comes as no surprise that whilst trying to add Antarctic Gray to my links I have deleted all the others. To save me trolling through Blogger looking for you all, please add a comment with your blog address if you want to be re-linked (or are new and want to be linked for a shiny first time)

Also, let me know your favourite apple. For no apparent reason. Mine is the granny smith. And I’m having one for my lunch each day. So I’m going to live longer. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/1180175.stm Or perhaps it just feels like it. I mean, sure the granny smith is a damn fine apple, as apples go. But its no bacon sarnie. There is all sorts of fascinating (in the loosest sense of the word) information on granny smiths here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Granny_Smith

although, quite frankly, the bit about it suppressing your appetite is B*******. As soon as my diet ends I’m gonna eat a me whole cow.

On Polar Bears

2008-01-09T09:42:00.001Z

Been reading this: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/magazine/7175652.stm and looking at various other polar bears are doomed related stuff. And, as always OMR has an opinion. Probably ill informed and possibly very wrong, but an opinion never the less.

Global warming is here. We have left it to late. The worlds largest polluter, the USA, still point blank refuses to reduce its emissions. Fortunately its moronic and evil president leaves office soon. Hopefully the next incumbent will actually give a damn about the planets future. But we all suspect it will be too little too late. The vast industrial boom in China and India continues apace. You’ve had your industrial revolutions they cry (with some justification) why shouldn’t we have ours? You want them to be eco friendly give us the technology. Give us the funding. And of course we won’t. The UK government has dithered and procrastinated on its energy policy for ten years. Nuclear? Severn Barrage? Carbon Capture? Now we face a massive & imminent energy shortfall, so it appears that against huge environmental opposition were going to build a big shiny new coal fired power station in Kent and massively increase our Carbon footprint. Sea levels will rise. The arctic ice will melt.

So were going to lose some species. Most noticeably big mammals. The tiger, despite huge conservation projects, will be virtually extinct in the wild in 20 years. (more human pressure than global warming, but still gone in 20 years) Fortunately, the Tiger adapts well to captivity. There is a very successful world captive breeding program. There will still be tigers in 50 years. We can look at our grandchildren and say ‘ok, we fucked up your planet. But you can fix it. You can make it right. You can reintroduce tigers into the wild’. There is still hope.

Not so the polar bear. One of the most depressing and disturbing sites of my life was a polar bear in Rome zoo. It paced in a small circle and tossed its head. Paced and tossed. Over and over. Clearly nuts. Polar bears are huge, vicious and solitary. They need the vast spaces of the arctic. There is no realistic possibility of a successful captive breeding program that leaves a vaguely sane polar bear population available to the future.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Its not all doom and gloom. We are an incredible species. Public opinion is turning. I firmly believe we can and will sort out global warming. I have huge hopes. Its just that its going to get worse before it gets better. A lot worse. And there’s going to be casualties.

Where does that leave the polar bear? Well they are the top of the food chain. Their extinction doesn’t have the massive implications for the planet that, say, the extinction of frogs has. And there really appears to be no realistic and humane way to save them. So, it hurts me enormously to say this. But perhaps we just have to let them go.

And pray our grandchildren forgive us.

Still dieting, still miserable

2008-01-08T11:22:00.000Z

So I’m sitting in the crown drinking orange & passion fruit Juice. As SJ tells me this matches my personality. I’m not sure if this is good or not. But monkey is on peach and mango juice so I figure I’m a winner. Now, I am drinking this as part of my highly enjoyable diet. Monkey is driving. His non drinking, as predicted, failed to go past new years day.

So, there we sit. Supping fruit juice. Looking like a couple of queers on a bad date. Its not the best time I’ve ever had. Fortunately, unlike beer, fruit juice sits heavy, I can only manage two, so I’m home by nine.

And wake up at 2am with a massive dose of Hobsons arse. How unfair is that. I never had a drop of the good stuff, but apparently just inhaling the fumes renders my bowels liquid. Two damn hours sweating on the pan in the middle of the night. Still, must have lost a few pounds.

on Beetles

2008-01-07T11:31:00.000Z

As regular readers will know I am disturbed by beetles. Well, not by beetles, I am not a beetleaphobe. Its Beetle statistics. Things like species of beetles 300000 +, species of humans 1. So I’m reading an article about how Beetles have been around since the Jurrasic period, seriously pre dating flowering plants and it slips in that a quarter of all living things on the planet today are beetles. That’s one in four living things is a beetle. And there were four of us in the lift this morning. See where I’m going. One of those ‘people’ is a beetle in a cunning body suit. Got four children? Well, statistically you have three children and one beetle changeling. And I bet you can tell which one it is!

But, funnily, this doesn’t disturb me. Suddenly life makes a lot more sense. Paul, John, Ringo & George, not Beatles, but Beetles. Tony Blaire, clearly a beetle. Putin, yup, a six legger in disguise. Jacques Chirac – not a beetle, just French. George Bush, 100% roach in a costume. And as for all my ex girlfriends, that whole trying to bite my head off after sex thing., now I understand.

I'm just popping out, I may be some time...

2008-01-02T14:07:00.000Z

As regulars to the Crown will know, Gray has gone to the antarctic for 18 months. Strange lad.
Anyway, I've set him up with a blog at http://antarctic-boy.blogspot.com/. So pop along and brighten his 24 hour daylight with suitably rude comments.

And a happy new year

2008-01-02T13:35:00.000Z

I had a very pleasant new years eve in the Crown - may thanks to all and sundry for your company.
And on new years day I ventured onto the scales. Well, its a new personal best, thats for sure. So its diet time. Today I had an apple for lunch. And later I shall kill one of my co-workers with a biro and gorge on the carcas. Possibly. I'm not good at being hungry. And worse, its a massive reduction in my beer intake. Its been less than 48 hours and I'm already hearing voices...

Still, I have a little bet with Monkey as to who weakens & has the first ale of 2008. I'm quietly confident about that one. Money in the bank!

a sunny and sprout free christmas

2007-12-31T12:09:00.000Z

And a belated happy Christmas to you all. I trust you all argued with loved ones, put on much weight, received large quantities of useless tat and damaged livers and kidneys galore. You lucky souls. No such luck for old man Rich. No sprout overdosed farting aunts or chocolate hyper screaming brats for me. No, I have to endure a torrid 33C (with pleasant sea breeze) on a perfect beach in the Gambia. Forced every morning to leave my air conditioned room and trudge wearily to the beach, pausing only briefly to consume a large fried breakfast, assorted fruit, toast & wonjo jam. Then to lie on a sun bed wrestling with the whole sleep?, read? Or swim? Dilemma until its finally resolved by noon and the obligatory beach bar visit.

I tell you, it was tough.

The trip did not get off to the best of starts. A four hour delay at Gatwick (fog) and my father is not a patient man. Fortunately there is a Bar. Then, when we finally get away I am across the aisle from a drunk bloke who decides to sing carols to the rest of the plane. Its not good. But made infinitely worse by the knowledge that its my dad.

But once in Gambia, ahh. The people are all tall, slim, attractive and friendly. The service is poor to non existent and the power goes off regularly but it doesn’t seem to matter. The draft beer keeps running out (which does matter) and the food is fine, but not anything to rave about. But its 33C (with pleasant sea breeze). The beach has a reasonable scattering of pretty teenage Norwegian & Finnish girls and if the hornbills in the garden are a little noisy, well, it’s a fairly minor inconvenience.

The only down side is the liggers who insist on coming up to you and clasping a ‘friendship’ bracelet on your wrist, despite all assurances that you are a miserable bugger, require no friends, have no money, are allergic to cheap and tacky wrist bands, you arm is pinned and the dreaded band is attached. But don’t worry. It’s a gift ‘from the heart’. Its free. There is no obligation other than friendship. Then begins the tale of woe. I found that putting my face an inch from theirs and screaming I AM GIVING YOU NOTHING, NOW GO AWAY worked. Eventually.
But not with my new friend Simon. No, he gave me a genuine plastic fishbone bracelet that made me a member of his drumming band. No stings, no cons, Its completely free. I am a band member and all I need to do is purchase the band a couple of minor items. Like drums. A PA system. UK visa’s. No problem. I will just pop back to my hotel and get some money. Unfortunately I didn’t bump into Simon again. Possibly because I spent the next four days hiding in my hotel wardrobe. But rest assured, should I meet Simon again, say in the crown, I will honour my plastic fishbone commitment and waste no time in introducing him to the Wednesday evening acoustic club

hmmmmm

2007-12-17T11:59:00.000Z

Got this from Beardy Weirdy Howard.

http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=1418851737

At first I thought it was funny but now its giving me nightmares....

now you see it....

2007-12-14T11:40:00.000Z

A holy man in India has, or rather had, a magic leg.
Touching his magic leg cured you of illness or granted your wish.

So, a couple of rogues came along. And, not prepared to settle for just one wish, they got the eighty year old holy man good and drunk, chopped off his leg with a sickle and ran off into the night. (legged it, as it were).

The old (and presumably slightly less holy) man is recovering in hospital.

Apparently this really happened.
Kind of puts having your car stereo stolen into perspective.

Recorder from hell

2007-12-12T18:01:00.000Z

They are making me do a bit at work at the moment. Its not particularly bad, but after a while doing more or less bugger all its come as a bit of a shock to the system.
Then I made the mistake of popping into Telford town Centre. Christmas shopping hell. I not only understand but totally sympathise with those who run amuck with machete’s. Keep your children on a lead damn you.
So, I pop down to the oasis that is the Crown for a much needed quiet pint of Hobsons.
And the Hobsons is off.
Not you understand because a tsunami has swept across Cleobury Mortimer and flooded the brewery.
The Delivery van has not been waylaid by vampiric were badgers, the draymen are not lying in a ditch with their throats torn out and their eyeballs pecked by crows.
Nor have giant mutant rust monsters eaten through the barrels in the cellar.
Its not even Hobsons theiving giant bears.
No, all those excuses I could have accepted.
But the truth of the matter is (and lets name and shame here) landlord John Ellis has been to damn lazy to put the beer on stillage.

So, I’m not happy. But it cannot get any worse. Right?
Wrong.
Because they have switched the weekly tragedy that is folk night to Tuesday. And so the musically retarded banjo strangling gimps gather in the back bar. And off goes the led zeppelin that I am enjoying, because it distracts the “musicians”. Ok. Ok. So talentless tone deaf tossers have a right to a good time too. And I can almost cope with it. Until Beardy Bob, the most tone deaf, musically incompetent, talentless tosser of them all, starts on the recorder.
And he appears to be practicing a single note. Over and over.
Whoooo
Whoooo
Whoooo
Its cutting right through me. Its relentless. My fillings are vibrating in my head. The US dont even inflict this sort of treatment on prisoners in Guantanamo .
And I Snap.
I use language.
I leave. My evening ruined.

So that’s it. No more Crown for me when the folk freaks are in. I shall take my custom elsewhere on those nights.

Facial hair fun

2007-12-08T23:46:00.000Z

Ok. Of late I have been sporting a 1978 John Denver haircut. Which is great if your John Denver and its 1978. Otherwise, its bad. On the plus side, I have been with a goatee that can only be described as damned sexy. Sometimes I don't get to the pub because I've seen myself in the mirror and, yes, its that sexy.
But hot sunny beaches loom. And facial hair is all well and good, but should never get in the way of a quality tan. So I cut my hair. Yes, I cut my own hair. I would like to say this was some sort of statement about independence and self empowerment, but, basically, I'm just to mean to pay a hairdresser. So, the hair is short, but (to paraphrase the pig joke) a beard like that is too good to shave all at once. So its comedy tash time.......

eco-math

2007-12-08T12:55:00.000Z

The rate of deforestation in the Amazon basin has decreased for the third year running.
Good news.
Of course, once all the trees have gone the rate of deforestation will drop to zero.
hmmm.

Sausage on a stick

2007-11-26T13:33:00.000Z

On saturday Steve, Monkey & I went on a jolly to the medieval fayre at Ludlow castle. And there were sausages on sticks. Brilliant. No messing with buns. No onions or sauce decisions. Just meat. On a stick. And as its handed over we are warned. Be careful. Its hot and its on a sharp stick. So dutifully we all burnt ourselves and stabbed ouselves with the sticks. Fortunately a supply of medicinal ale was on hand.

There were also knights in armour being anti French and pounding the crapola out of each other. Which was good. And a selection of medieval music and singing. Which wasn't. There was also a giant bald Monk. Who scared Monkey.

So we returned to The crown for a post trip ale. Where, sad to say, I pretty much proved that I can no longer keep up with the youngsters. (or, rather, I can, but its a huge mistake).

Tolerance, No tolerance

2007-11-26T13:31:00.000Z

So, Tony Henry (English) is singing the Croatian Anthem at Wembley prior to England’s drubbing. He mispronounced a word and so actually sung "My Dear, my penis is a mountain". Are The Croatians outraged? Are Embassies being torched? Are people rioting on the streets? No. Croat fan websites have been calling for Mr Henry to be given a medal of honour for helping the players relax, they also want him made an official team mascot for the tournament.

In Sudan an English Teacher asked children to vote for their favourite name for a class teddy bear. They chose Mohammad. Presumably this is because they are good Muslim children & you’d expect that god might be pleased. The Teacher was detained on Sunday on suspicion of insulting Islam's prophet. She faces 40 lashes or six months in jail. The school has been shut because they feared reprisals.

You couldn’t make it up.

Its your democratic right to be a Moron

2007-11-13T11:56:00.000Z

I love the USA's gun laws. I firmly believe that every American, regardless of IQ should be allowed to carry a gun.

http://www.ananova.com/news/story/sm_2596711.html

Of course, in the UK heathcare is free at the point of delivery so we really can't afford our idiots to tool up. So here's a little test to see if your clever enough to own a gun....

Can you spot the difference?

oooooooh saucey

2007-11-09T00:01:00.000Z

I like sauce. Branston fruity on a bacon sarnie. Heinz catchup on a hot dog. On most things I buy economy. Its cheaper & there is no difference. But not on your sauce. On your sauce you pay and get it right.
So, the king of sauces? Well, food wise there's a huge list. Each meal has its best accompaniment. Each sauce in its place. But for sex? Well, aerosol cream has its charm. Its squirty and its fun. But if your someone who enjoys licking girls (and I maybe) Heinz salad cream. Oh yeah. Seriously, if your gonna be licking human flesh and you fancy that bit of extra - Heinz salad cream.

Beardy Weirdy Howard has very kindly just dropped off two hundred sachets of Heinz salad cream. Girls, form an orderly queue.....

So, thats the chrismas shopping sorted.

2007-11-02T11:30:00.000Z

I'm giving everyone hideous diseases this year.
http://www.giantmicrobes.com/

Lamb Stew / facial hair

2007-11-01T00:15:00.000Z

I have lamb stew for tea. Lamb is cheap at the moment. And scrag end is always cheap if you can get it. (Best end of neck to you posh people). And lamb stew in the slow cooker is the best. So, I have my stew. Enjoy sucking the spinal cord out from between the bones. And, of course, I drink the gravey. Then I go out to the greenhouse. And the fat in my mustache sets. I have this white lip of solid lard. And no amount of licking and sucking is gonna cure this. So I run my lip under the hot tap. And lo, fat is gone. And my lip is burnt.

Who says looking great is easy?

fossils AND sock puppets - It doesnt get much better

2007-10-30T18:52:00.000Z

Went down to Dorset to see aunty Paul at the weekend. Found some nice fossils on the beach and made sock puppets. There were also a few pints of Badger beer and more food than you could reasonably consume. Gotta be pleased with that.

Warwick, pronounced Warrick

2007-10-23T18:49:00.000+01:00

Went with Granny & my nephew & neice to Warwick castle on monday. Its a beautiful castle started in 1068 by willie the conc & added & extended and rebuilt through to the 17 Century.

They have the worlds biggest working trebuchette (although it may be the worlds only working trebuchette) and we had a fun display by some bowmen using long bows of the type that slaughtered the French in the 100 year war. There were also singing plague victims, a goul (who accused me of being smelly) and assorted armour, waxworks of castle life and some very steep narrow and dark spiral stairs which I did not enjoy at all.

The kids then had a go at archery (at tourist prices). Then Mathew saw a bow and arrow in the gift shop (at tourist prices) and proceded to whine for four hours about how much he wanted it. Finally (since they arn't mine & I can't give them the belting they require - spoilt little brats) I finally secumbed & bought them each a bow and arrow. When we got back to Grannies they had a fun fifteen minutes playing with said bows before deciding they'd rather watch cartoons. Ho Hum.

Still, I enjoyed the castle & had fun watching granny turn blue with cold. A smashing day out.

K SA SA

2007-10-23T11:25:00.000+01:00

After a fantastically entertaining 3rd place play off on Friday night between Argentina & France (and far too much beer) Saturday saw the world cup final. (and far, far, to much beer) And the Boks won it well. But England played well, forced the Boks into a type of rugby they don’t really like & pushed them close. Never the less the best team won (and I still agree with the 4th official – that was not an England try). So Congratulations South Africa. Deservedly world champions. But well done England.

puttin on the agony

2007-10-18T10:41:00.000+01:00

I am trying to eat a little healthier. Trying to avoid the take-aways. But last night I indulged in fish and chips. And almost immediately a huge spot formed on my shoulder. So before I went to bed I gave it a squeeze. After a volcanic explosion that made Pompeii look like a medium small firecracker I was left with a bloody crater. So, to protect my sheets I decide to put a plaster on it.

Did you see that. 'To protect my sheets'. That’s age. Its not the belly, or the grey in the beard. Its when you worry about your sheets. So sad.

Anyway. I attempt to remove a plaster from its packaging. And it sticks to itself. Much swearing. On the second attempt I succeed & stick the plaster over the weeping hole in my shoulder. The third attempt is also successful. Ha, I have mastered the plasters. The thing is, I didn’t need a third attempt. Now this may be senility, or this may be beer. Which ever, I now have a spare plaster ready to go. It would be a shame to waste it so, of course, I stick it across the bridge of my nose. As you do.

I wake in the night. I am of an age where I can no longer drink several pints and go an entire night without a pee. On good nights I wake up. Note to self: If you dream your peeing, your peeing. So, half asleep I go to the toilet. And in the mirror I see I have a plaster across my nose. Have I been fighting? It seems unlikely. I fight like a damp blanket so any violence normally ends up with me getting a good kicking and spending an evening in the A&E. I am older and wiser. I haven’t been in a punch up for many years. Hmm. Perhaps I fell over. Seems more likely. And thinking about it, my shoulder and my knee also hurt. Ok, so whenever I think about it my shoulder and knee hurt. I’m old and knackered.

So I lie half awake, trying to remember. I was in the pub with the lads. No Hobson’s (AGAIN!!!) so I was grumpy. But not unusually so. And not very drunk. I left. I got fish and chips (two pickled onions, small beans £4.50. mmmm). Walked up the hill. I’m fairly sure without incident. Ate. Showered. Went to bed. No nose damage incident. From three till five I lie in bed fingering the plaster on my nose wondering what I have done. Worrying. Unable to sleep.

Of course, with the morning comes sanity. And relief. Followed by general grouchy-ness caused by lack of sleep & resentment at my own stupidity.

Bang, Bang

2007-10-14T11:35:00.000+01:00

It wasn’t pretty or clever. It wasn’t the beautiful game that rugby can be. This was two sides in an ugly, desperate slugfest. I could hardly bare the pressure. Its only a game, I kept telling myself. Only a game. Yeah., right. I watched it alone at chez rich. I couldn’t have watched it with anyone. I paced, I screamed. When Johnny elected to kick hugely long at goal rather than a sensible touch and then missed I drop kicked a cactus in ceramic pot in my rage.

And, as much by luck as judgment a brave and gritty England squeezed a win against the equally dogged French. It really could have gone either way. So, did the French whine about the referee? Their luck? The cheating English? No, having just gone out of the world cup France captain Raphael Ibanez said “England deserved to win and they took their chances when it mattered”.

How you lose is as important as how you win. Respect to France. Whining Kiwi’s listen and learn.

And afterwards (and before, and during) there was beer. Too much beer. Next week against all odds England are in the world cup final. I’m not sure I can stand the strain.

Good manners cost nothing.

2007-10-12T12:18:00.000+01:00

Just doing what I'm payed to do.
But isnt it nice when someone says thank you.
quite made my day.

wide load

2007-10-10T22:14:00.000+01:00

So, the customer is having a few performance issues.
Rich (oh, thats me) can you go over to the customer and take some performance timings. (no question mark? uh, one of THOSE questions).
Well, erm, ok. Ever happy to oblige. But the complaints are pretty much design issues or antique PC problems.
Yes. We know. But we need to be seen to care. So buy a stopwatch. Shave. Put on a suite and go and be nice to the customer.
erm. Why me? Because you got in late and weren't in the meeting where we decided who had to go.

Fair cop. So I come home. Fish a suit or two out of the depths. And none do up around my waiste. Aint it terrible how things shrink. Lets hope there's a Marks & Spencers open early in Northampton.

wot? no Hobsons?

2007-10-10T11:58:00.000+01:00

Last night was strange. Sitting in the Crown drinking Hobsons and listening to the ravings of loons is usually a pleasant way to spend an evening. But, alas and alack. There was no Hobsons. Just sorry left overs from the recently departed beer festival. And the loons were out in force and raving like it was a full moon. I couldn’t stand it. I left early. I ‘gasp’ drank elsewhere.

yes ..... YES YES YES

2007-10-06T21:54:00.000+01:00

Southern hemisphere rugby? Kiss my sweaty arse !!!

Radar Love

2007-10-05T21:13:00.000+01:00

Thirteen thousand pound solid gold lingerie

well, you would, wouldn't you ?

What a weekend of Rugby that was.

2007-10-01T10:26:00.000+01:00

England were adequate against Tonga. Clever enough to force Tonga into a game style they don’t like to much. But I don’t see the Ozzies quaking in their boots right now. Then there was Wales –Fiji. What a game. I felt battered just watching. Wales coming back from 25-3 down to take the lead. Only to then lose the plot, and the Game to mighty Fiji. There will be some sore Fijian heads tomorrow. And South Africa have not breezed to victory against the other pacific Islanders. One to watch.

Then Ireland, with a near impossible task (score four tries & win by at least eight points) threw the kitchen sink at mighty Argentina. And, after moments when you thought they might pull it off, were soundly spanked by Argentina. Who then celebrated their wonderful victory by dancing round the pitch in a manner best describes as distinctly gay. (not as in happy, either). So Argentina win the group and go on to face Scotland. Who should be worried.

And France, by coming second in the group face the dreaded All Blacks in, wait for it, Cardiff. Boy the decision to flog off matches outside France has bitten them hard. In a way it’s a shame. France at home might have been serious contenders against New Zealand. But at a millennium stadium full of Kiwi’s & Micks? Goodbye France.

So I shall spend the week laughing at all the Frenchmen who, fully expecting France to win their group, have bought tickets for what turns out to be Argentina – Scotland.
And next weekend all four quarter finals look a bit tasty. I just hope my liver can cope.

Just call me Farmer Rich

2007-09-27T18:06:00.000+01:00

This morning was one of those colds bright Autumn mornings. After a huge absence all summer I now have an abundance of assorted butterflies. Mostly enjoying the sedum. So I spent a happy hour failing to photograph them. This one was the only one I got.

Then, when I returned from work, my worm farm had arrived. Excitement. Or at least as close as I get these days. So now I can turn my kitchen waste into compost to my hearts content. OK, it cost a few quid. But if I can get it turning over I shouldn't need to buy compst next year, so it will actually pay for itself. It also provedes a supply of worm pee which (allegedly) makes a fine liquid fertilizer.

Hooray

2007-09-21T13:06:00.001+01:00

The red kite was extinct in England & Scotland. And reduced to just a couple of breeding pairs in Wales. But protection & the reintroduction of birds from Europe mean there doing all right. And driving back from Camberley along the M40 somewhere south of oxford I saw five, yup, five of these babies. And nearly rear ended a lorry. But what the hell. Five red kites. Gotta be pleased with that.

Hair today

2007-09-19T18:27:00.000+01:00

I am six foot two inches tall. On a good morning. Your taller in the mornings. Did you know that? Apparently true. But I digress. I’m talking about my ever growing bald patch. Its getting to the point where I can no longer call it a double crown. Quite a tonsure I’m developing. Not I hasten to add because of my age. Certainly not through excess testosterone. No its my height. And the fact that I own the money pit that is Chez Rich. Not that the hair loss is stress related. No, it’s the fact that most of the doors are not six foot two inches tall. Most of the time these days I walk with a stoop. Always an attractive look. Stand up straight people tell me. Huh! all right for dwarves, or people who’s houses aren’t actively trying to kill them. But, despite having lived here for two interminable years now, occasionally I still clock myself a good un. And the other day, as I lay on the landing clutching my head I looked up and saw a clump of my hair stuck to the top of the bloodied door frame.

Its not enough that the place is trying to bankrupt me and maim me. Now its stealing my hair!

rah, rah, Rasputin

2007-09-18T11:57:00.000+01:00

The Russians are going to send gerbils into space. Brilliant!
So, Tsovarich, our research grant is up for review. Any new ideas?
Swigs vodka.
Hey, how about we stick a load of gerbils up in space & film them bobbing about in zero gravity. That’s got to be funny. We’ll make a fortune on U-tube.
Brilliant, Ivan. We’ll say its research into zero G salt retention.
Swigs vodka.

Rugby

2007-09-16T10:28:00.000+01:00

Watching Andy Farrel play reminds me of a story I read as a child. A man buys a racehorse for a milion pounds. When it arrives its a donkey. Furious at being tricked the man sends the donkey to the knackers yard. (or, possibly not, since it was a childrens book. But he got rid of it somehow). Turns out it was the fastest donkey ever & the man was a fool. Unfortunately, the million pound Andy Farrel is not the fastest donkey ever. He is a very ordinary donkey. Trip to the knackers yard must be iminent.
The rest of the England team were a lesson in mediocrity. Ok, Robinson, for the first time in recent history, had a half decent game at fullback. And there were one or two nice moves from Saki. But on the whole you got the impression that most of the team simply didn't want to be there. Scored nothing. Never looked like scoring. Didn't much seem to want to score. I have seen more passion from a collection of white goods.

Contrast that with Argentina's incredible defending in their suprise turn over of France. Or Wales verses Australia. OK. Wales completely out classed by an Australian side that bordered at times on brilliant. But boy they fought. And showed some magic hands and real Welsh grit. And little amature Portugal scored a try against the mighty all-blacks. Ok, lost by a hundred points. But could walk off the pitch with pride. Then Georgia took on a lackluster Ireland and against all odds damn near beat them. Deserved to beat them.
There has been some magic rugby out there. Rugby of skill, rugby of passion. Men digging deep and exceeding all expectations. Sadly, none of it has been played by the English.

Ludlow

2007-09-13T12:05:00.002+01:00

Last weekend several assorted Steves, Walter & myself went on a day trip to Ludlow. For, at Ludlow castle, it was the Ludlow food and drink fair. Suffice to say it was neither pretty or clever. An exercise in bachanalian excess. Being drunk before noon is always a bad sign. Being the only people over six in the circus tent was also a little worrying. None of us can ride a unicycle. The boy Fulla can however spin plates. And we all thought he was useless. How wrong we were. I also got sold a very camp hat. Not good.

We returned to the Crown in time for the England V USA world cup rugby match. Well, we won. Yes. A team of highly paid profesionals squeezed a win over a largly amature side. Only one team could walk away from that with their head held high and that wasn't the English. Nothing for it but to drink more beer. Lots more. Oh my.

feed me Seymore, FEED ME

2007-09-13T12:02:00.000+01:00

Last night I came home from the pub and ate eleven sausages.
Diet be damned.

thunder rise, early in the morning...

2007-09-03T09:38:00.000+01:00

I’m taking down the ceiling in the downstairs bedroom. You know, the horrible one over the cellar and, more importantly, under the bathroom. And I forgot that, in order to get the drain from the shower to have a steady gradient, my lovely builder used piles of old ceramic tiles to keep the pipe level. And when I rip down the ceiling these also come down. On me. There is a little blood, a lot of pain & some language that, to be honest even shocked me. Granny will be spinning in her grave like a rotisserie chicken on speed. Sorry Gran.
Anyway. The pipe now bows. And leaks at one of the joints. And there is a surprising amount of wiring hanging down. I suspect putting a new ceiling in is not going to be as easy as I hoped. Or as cheap.

Unfortunately, this month all my spare cash has been consumed buy my car. The MOT meant a new exhaust & the replacing of some hoses. Also a promise to get the front breaks done before Christmas. The car is a lot quieter, and I don’t seem to get the headaches whilst driving it anymore. Goodbye carbon monoxide poisoning. Hooray. Goodbye two hundred odd quid. Boo. So, today I must fork out £180 on road tax. This could severely limit my beer intake for the month. I wonder if the crown has a loyalty card.

So. Its Monday. I have spent much of the weekend watching series two of house and eating cheesecake. And I’m all ready for an intensive week of solitaire in the office. But on glancing out of the kitchen window it appears something has happened in my greenhouse. I have those windows that open and close automatically. I suspect a pigeon has got trapped. As I approach and realise the extent of the devastation I upgrade to buzzard. The greenhouse is trashed. The tomato plants are shredded. The bubble-wrap insulation has been torn down. The prized cacti are, well, its just too upsetting. And sitting there amidst the wreckage is that most evil of vermin – a cat. I can’t remember when I last had the door open. I’m guessing Saturday. So its been trapped a while and is not happy. But then neither am I. I open the door & it just sits there meowing pathetically. I make ‘here kitty, kitty noises’ but it doesn’t move. I lean in & get the whole arched back and hissing thing before it retreats to the back of the greenhouse. I don’t have time for this. I don my gardening gauntlets. No more Mr nice guy.

At this point I should point out that I am in my attractive green towelling dressing gown and my poundland slippers. These are pale blue, have a smiley face on the front and are made of … sponge foam. Squelch. Have you any idea of the sheer volume of poo a scared cat can generate in forty-eight hours? Again I must apologise to my late grandmother. The cat chooses this point to rake its claws across my leg & exit stage left.

Its going to be a long month.

All change, all stay the same

2007-08-31T15:21:00.000+01:00

I work for a big multinational company. As such we are constantly being restructured. I don’t mind. It creates jobs for a whole team of senior managers & only has a minor negative impact on the day to day functioning of the company. But now we're apparently going to be Applications Services Business Operations and Applications Services Delivery Assurance.

ASBO and ASDA.

Says it all really.

Congratulations...

2007-08-16T14:28:00.000+01:00

So the A levels are out. Grades are up. And the usual whiners are claiming that A levels have got easier. Which is, quite frankly, bollocks. Each year every expert, every examining body, every government commission, assures us that A levels today are equivalent to those of yesteryear. The grades improve for two main reasons. Teaching has improved. No doubts. And a big up to the teachers. And today’s youths just work harder than we did. Yup really. Ok, I was a particularly lazy student. (Not my fault. Its some weird recessive gene, honest). But I don’t recall that any of us worked as hard as today’s students seem to. So congratulations one & all.

But does too much learning make Jack a dull boy? Is it learning subjects at the expense of learning life? Are today’s teenagers missing out? Being seventeen should be fun after all. It surely was for me. I don’t know the answer to that. But here’s a thought. Perhaps Universities should also give points for scout badges. Or some sort of extended Duke of Edinburgh award scheme. A DofE gold being equivalent to a C grade A level maybe. Just to make sure our geniuses are also people.

Goodness gracious – no balls of fire

2007-08-14T10:32:00.000+01:00

So the boy Fulla & I went on a little twenty mile cycling jaunt last night. Hmm. My sloth like existence & general decrepitude meant that it was not a pretty site. Suffice to say that I finished a long while after Mr F. At the Crown. Where I played Poker. And despite lady lucks best efforts, exhaustion & alcohol combined to make me play my fine hands like a prize cretin. Ho hum. So I staggered up the hill at closing time (pushing the bike) & sat on my front porch. Because low in the northern skies the Perseid meteor shower should be happening. And fell asleep. So I awoke some hours later, totally unable to feel my legs. Meteors seen = 0. Mosquitoes fed = lots.

So now I am at work. Looking and feeling my best. And I have some stuff to do. Some difficult stuff. And I look at it. And look at it. And its really not making a lot of sense. But I read on the net that having a pot belly seriously increases your chances of heart disease. So at least there is a real hope that I won’t live to see my deadlines. A strangely cheering thought right now.

go down gambling

2007-08-10T09:20:00.000+01:00

First it was outrage as super casino's were, and then were not, coming to the UK. Now evil gambling firms are going to be able to advertise on TV. And were all going to gamble our lives away.

Lets be clear. I hate TV adverts. All of them. I refuse to watch them. Turn over as soon as they appear. Dont come into my home & try & sell me stuff. Your worse than cold call double glazing salesmen. All hail the glorious advert free BBC. Advertising on childrens channels is particularly abhorent & should be banned. But then, parents who let their children watch TV all day should be horsewhipped.

But why pick on gambling? Heart disease is this countries biggest killer & were surrounded by obese children yet we let Burger King advertise freely. Ok, Gambling is potentially adictive. But so is shoe shopping. I went out with a girl who spent most of her income on shoes. Had more shoes than she knew what to do with. Had to go shoe shopping everyday. Clearly a shoe shopping addict. Was there a demand to remove Clarks from the high street. Did Adidas get banned from our TVs?

Either allow advertising (and consumerism is unfortunately king, so I think you have to) or Ban it. Dont pick and choose. So yes, let the Gambling companies advertise. After all, the alcohol boys do, and thats as addictive and destructive. And Heroine & cocain? Brothels? Sure, if you legalise them first (and you should). Big tobacco? By all means. Even, reluctantly, McDonalds.

Its our money & our choices. And if your as intelligent and beautiful as Old man Rich you'll simply turn off your TV and get a life.

pond news

2007-08-09T08:13:00.001+01:00

My Friend Cabij is a headmistress at a primary school (never ceases to amaze me). Over the last couple of weekends I have been putting in a wildlife pond at her school. I have to confess I made her hire someone to dig the hole. Its starting to take shape. Once she gets the edge slabbed (again, qualified profesionals required - I'm to old to lift slabs any more) I will go back & prod it some more. (Part of my ongoing campaign to turn all children into friends of the frog).

BBQ

2007-08-08T10:22:00.000+01:00

Well,
Saturday saw the anual Barbie at chez rich.
Many thanks to all those that came.
Its a little hazy in my mind but I trust a good time was had by all.

Walts piccies are here... http://www.flickr.com/photos/mattmoor/sets/72157601254262881

Week of horror

2007-08-08T10:20:00.000+01:00

Ah Joy.
Last week I had my nephew & neice for the week.
And now they have gone home again.
And a wonderful silence has returned to Chez rich.

On Sunday we built these lego fire boats. Unfortunately Uncle rich put the batteries in Emma's motor the wrong way round and it only sailed backwards.

We also built secret bases & vehicles to take over the world with. Mine was the best, but in a travesty of judging by Gaz I came last. (bitter, me?)

On Monday we took (due to a slight navigational error by OMR) a five mile hike to the town park.

On tuesday it was RAF Cosford. (Its Free - Hooray). Then as much as you can eat buffet at Big wok & a visit to Birmingham fish market.

On Wednesday Granny came over & we went to Enginuity. Lots of fun stuff in there.

Thursday was the regular trip to the Safari park. Lots of scary rides. To the man who saw lots of teenage girls in white T shirts & thought 'I'm gonna build me a log flume' my deepest respect.

On Friday Phil & Sue came up & I gleefully returned Matt & Emma to their owners. My other Nephew Harry learnt how to hunt frogs.

Flower Power

2007-07-27T16:44:00.000+01:00

The Cactus that Merkio gave me has flowered....

The face of the king

2007-07-24T18:03:00.001+01:00

At my Bro's having a barbie when Elvis appeared in the Sky...

I like it, I want it, I'll take it off your hands...

2007-07-24T10:27:00.000+01:00

On Friday my bro, father & I went on a pilgrimage to that most holy of places, Lords. And took the water. Possibly the severe weather warning should have been a clue. I have never seen rain like it in this country. The outfield was standing water & at one point you couldn’t see the far stand. My little bro suggests we go to a pub. Don’t worry, he has directions to a good real ale pub & we can get a taxi.
There are no taxi’s. He gets confused about which pub we are seeking. So instead of looking for our nice real ale pub he’s searching for ‘a pub that specialises in Japanese beer (???) and Grolsh (ugh) but has attractive art deco furniture & a selection of paintings by local artists. Fortunately he does not find it & we finally arrive, sodden, at a respectable little boozer & grab the last table. By the toilets. Which my Bro uses spectacularly. They are forced to open all the doors & windows in the place. So we settle down for a long afternoon. Only to be informed that they are resuming play at 2. We scarcely have time to consume three pints before we grab a taxi back to the ground for a fine afternoons cricket.

In the evening we return to Chelmsford & pop into the con club (I know, but it’s a good club & my need for cheap beer outweighs my social conscience) for a swift several. Big Boy Chad arrives & we play cribbage with the legendary Peplow. Not once does he have the right number of cards in his hand. It’s a unique comic experience.

All in all, a grand day out

Lets Twist again..

2007-07-24T10:26:00.000+01:00

Went to my friend Lynn’s 40th the other week. It was a 60’s party. And so there were lots of girls in short skirts & knee boots, which is nice. Provided you go in & out in roughly the right places (and all of my female friends do) ladies 60’s fashion is rather attractive. May it soon return. Unfortunately this is not so for the boys. Consider phsycadelic extras in a bad Cheech & Chong movie with big perms. See my point. (Some of you may remember that film classic the wild women of wonga – lots of attractive women & ugly blokes). Still, a good time was had by all. Well, certainly by me, which is all that really matters.

All Bound for Moo-Moo land

2007-07-11T15:21:00.000+01:00

Apparently group of schoolchildren (aged 14 to 15) on an outward bound course called out the coastguard when they found their route meant crossing a field containing a group of that most deadly of predators – cows. Ok. I guess that if your from the city and have never come face to face with a cow before they are pretty big. But the coastguard? Cliff rescue, lost at sea, killer shark, ok, call the coastguard. But Cows? No. Call, well, I don’t know. Cowline? The Bovine defense leage? Captain Cow? Ok. I see the problem. No obvious point of contact. No doubt that nice Mr Cameron is already creating an opposition post for minister of cow defense. But until he gets elected you have to make do. But surely, you ‘ask Jeeves’ if cows are a life threatening condition. Google ‘deadly cows’. Contact the RSPCA or even, if the cows are giving you evil cow vibes, the police. But not the coastguard. Bah and Pah. The youth of today.

In other news I read that in order to promote a cleaner city, officials in xigong are paying a bounty on dead flies. Hmm. That’s not going to backfire horribly now is it.

A kidnapped lion has been freed in Gazza. A Welshman has returned from Canada for his friends wedding a year early. The UK’s biggest dog is unhappy with the media attention. Ditto Kate Middleton. There super-casino that was to revitalise Manchester now won’t.....Slow news day?

Hang on. What’s this I read? People with lots of moles age more slowly. Seriously. Apparently if you have large numbers of moles you will age more slowly than your less moley counterparts. Ok, massive increase in the risk of skin cancer, but given the complete lack of sunshine this summer I don’t see that as a major problem. Heh. I’m covered in moles. I have more moles than MI5. I am the mole man. I’m gonna live forever.

Unless, of course, I’m mauled to death by a killer cow.