Timbo

I'm quite pleased this herbert was pulled up for being 'drunk in charge'. Last year we had a situation where a local drunk who uses a mobility scooter to drive himself to the pub ran his scooter at full speed across the pelican crossing we were using with our granddaughter. Only my other half's quick thinking got the kiddie out of the way as the menace instead ran straight into me knocking me over. Interestingly I've found that the RAF benevolent fund not only provide scooters but they also remove them when they have been inappropriately used, especially when contacted by irate members of the public with sire knees.

Of course...I had fully intended giving up smoking on January 1st but for two problems. Firstly it's my birthday....so I will be enjoying myself too much to be giving up smoking, and secondly my daughter bought me a gift from Cuba for Christmas...perhaps when I've finished these I mi...not a snowball's chance in hell!

Every Saturday I'm confronted with a group of people that through their lifestyle choice inflict a potential hazard to my health in a public place. In addition their lifestyle choice places a great strain on NHS budgets and damages the environment. I'm wondering who I should report them to? I'm talking about those inconsiderate anti social people who 'jog'! Saturday mornings a host of these inconsiderate people congregate on the medieval fields and woodland close to my home and then 'on mass' proceed to run in endless laps, making it impossible for me to get past with my dogs on my morning 'drag' through the woods. I've been knocked over as these idiots charge down country lanes which are now rutted and mered from constant jogging. My local GP's surgery sees a constant stream of joggers limping in to see the mountebank. Recently I spotted a large number of raptors circling over the woods. On closer inspection I heard the problem before I saw it. The joggers now have an idiot ringing a bell mounted on a tripod every time they pass him. Incidentally the woods are now bereft of large raptors and the deer herd that sheltered through the winter in this location due to the noise pollution. On weekdays these inconsiderate people run all over the roads and pavements in the dark. Last night they forced an old couple into the road and into oncoming traffic. The year before one of the joggers died whilst running to work at 4am, gulping in freezing air he suffocated at the side of the road as his lungs froze. Worse still Saturday lunchtimes means these hyper active idiots make drinking in the local pub extremely unpleasant as they sit filling the air with noxious smells of sweaty clothes and minging trainers. I for one would like to see a complete ban on the activities of these inconsiderate people. Running shoes and gym clothing should be kept in locked cabinets in sportswear shops to discourage this unhealthy and antisocial activity. Special outdoor areas so the sweaty oiks can be segregated from those of us who smell like lilacs, with hints and overtones of musk and citrus should be created in pubs. Restaurants that cater to these people by supplying food of limited nutritional value like salad should be restricted to over 18's only. And government health warnings need to be placed on all accoutrements associated with this activity. Magazines and images of muscular slim people need to be controlled, wrapped in opaque cellophane and only stored on the top shelf of newsagents. Something has to be done!

Don't forget that you may be able to recover some degraded images by putting the files through VirtualDub...a free video editor and processor. It may seem a little old now but it is extremely powerful. http://www.virtualdub.org/

I have information that it wasn't incompetence that got him the boot but intervention from an even higher authority than Abramovich. The Sally Army Choir were singing 'Hosannah he hates Chelsea' in Tesco yesterday. 'Explains a lot!' I thought.

I'm afraid I'm what may be referred to as vociferous smoker, even a nicotine vigilante or a baccy bolshevik. At first, other than the odd grumble, I put up with constraints placed upon me by the raffia knickered interferons. Thanks to these beige blandista's my food tastes of nothing. I buy more salt than the average Canadian spreads on his drive and my civil liberties were rapidly being eroded. However this changed when I walked past my cigar merchants in York. The plush wooden shop interior with it's leather couches and humidors was obscured by blacked out windows. At first I thought the place had shut and in dismay wandered back into the city. However as I grew grumpier I decided to Google the shop and then telephoned them and discovered that they were indeed open. Back at the store it felt like I was walking into some sort of sordid brothel or sex shop. However once through the door the familiar mahogany, leather and cigars were there and I was rewarded with a Romeo y Juliette for my efforts. Later as I sat in the sunshine enjoying my smoke I was 'tutted at' by one of the raffia knickered. "You are encouraging young children to buy cigars!" she whined. "Ah in that case I'm also encouraging them to get an education and a means of gaining wealth because this cigar cost more than a playstation, now b***** off!" I smiled back. These days when I walk into my local newsagent and Spar shop the doors of the tobacco cabinets are flung wide open so I can see the goods while I make my purchase. Even Tesco now realise the futility of keeping the doors closed as I will create a queue that will lap the store twice as I send the assistant to fetch various wares from the cabinet so I can compare prices. Of course I look on at the stupidity of the situation where pubs have been turned inside out to accommodate the interferons with more customers stood outside the doors having a smoke than are sat inside. I won't force my smoking habit onto others, I will sit in the designated smoking area with my drink...quietly... until of course an interferon emerges to moan and then I take pleasure in ejecting them from the smoking area. Walking past my local pub...now closed...I shake my head at the windows which display the words "smoking room" on the parlour. Sadly I don't visit any pub all that often these days. In fact the only time I do visit socially is in the company of MM. Even as a family should we go out for a meal to our local pub/restaurant we eat the meal...we leave. There is no hanging around for another non alcoholic drink, because I'm driving, and why on earth would I want to stand outside a pub when I can go home and enjoy a smoke and a drink much cheaper than in the pub? More to the point why would I want to sit inside a pub surrounded by the rustle of raffia knickers and surgical flip flops discussing the qualities of Zan Izal toilet paper? Did I mention...I'm back?

U-bend and I'll Flush The further adventures of the Cottagers Companion Vitreous Vicars The Cottagers Clerical Companion

Tories in a Toilet Life outside Westminster by Sellmar Soul

Questions on Quintessential Quirks

So Uncle Albert is out...in more ways than one! Firstly he is now out of the nursing home and ensconced in his new apartment with carer's three times a day, and a cleaner twice a week. Secondly I came across a book he had tucked away at the back of his shelves. I have asked him if there is 'something he wants to tell me' but he's denying all knowledge of what I'm talking about.

But I will get even colder if I have to sleep outside!

Ah the heavy brigade! But that does give me an idea...fit harness, use skyhook!

It is officially winter! How do I know? Well battle has been joined in the annual winter warfare campaign conducted between Dylly my Beagle and I for possession of my duvet. This years competition will be fierce as Dylly has packed on a bit of weight and has employed a new tactic of folding one edge of the duvet under his bulk to prevent you from pulling enough of the material free to partially cover yourself. As the temperature is still quite balmy however we have until recently been conducting small skirmishes with small bouts of combat quickly over as excessive heat forces the duvet hogging beagle to beat a retreat under the bed. I have to report however that at 3am yesterday morning Dylly forged an alliance with his littermate Toby where Dylly made a bid for the duvet while Toby tried suffocating me by sitting on my head. The two then took to snoring so loudly I was forced from the bedroom and onto the sofa to escape the cacophony. These new tactics are extremely worrying, especially so early in the duvet hogging season. I think I had better get a flu jab this year!

Indeed it is a 20ft flag pole set. Totally unopened since purchase. Still has shipping notes attached to the box undisturbed. According to the box it is from Coopers of Stortford and is a Flag and Pole set total height 20ft and contains both a Union and St Georges flag. The pole is of aluminium construction and originally cost £50. My other half tipped a vintage projector screen this afternoon before I could stop her, but I have managed to rescue the actual projector itself if any photographers have a need of it. There's also a working Box Brownie camera complete with case. The photography equipment belonged to my great aunt who was nanny to the Rothschild Family and also to the Ross family of frozen food fame. The are thousands of slides my great aunt took when she accompanied the families. Uncle Albert is a hoarder...you would not believe the amount of tat we've skipped today! Edited to add...Scout Leaders get ready as Uncle Albert has a vast collection of scouting memorabilia including uniform items, belts, hats, badges, standards etc, all of which we have no room for.

Halfway through moving Uncle Albert into his new accommodation and I wondered could the forum use a brand new...still in it's box.... 20ft flag pole? There is also a garden hammock, used only once that is going begging. Let me know if the forum wants them or they are going to the tip.

I don't think they should introduce these Biebers into the ecosystem. I mean look at the damage that the Coypu created!

I think both have a point here and as I type I've just realised a similarity to the good 'ole Broads Authority. The people doing the day to day task of caring for the individual deserve some high praise. It's once you get to the officer or social worker level that things tend to break down. I often wish that I knew someone who was a highly qualified Social Worker that knew all of the pit falls, tricks and traps of negotiating the system. Now here's the 'Doh' moment...Uncle Albert is CSS CQSW in other words a fully qualified Social Worker and former deputy head of the same Social Services Department that's supposed to be caring for him! Just to add a little further insult to injury the new counties Social Services suggested I get in touch with the British Legion as Uncle Albert is ex Royal Navy they would have a welfare officer who could offer support etc. "I don't think that will do any good..." I started to explain. "No, the bloke is fantastic, really helps, knows his stuff! Worked with him before!" They then passed me the telephone number and contact details for Uncle Albert who was the British Legion's welfare officer for the area. "Oh that's a shame!" was all the Social Worker could say when she realised the bloke that was going to help was in fact the bloke that needed help.

I have a theorem about Social Workers. It goes like this... All Social Workers work on flexi time and cram their 30hrs a week into two days. During these two days they attend all of the management meetings they missed on the three days they were not at work as well as all of their in-house training. Unfortunately after allowing for their annual leave...this leaves negative time for their clients. Uncle Albert is moving from one county to another so therefore will have to change not only his social worker but the Social Services department supplying the service. After two weeks of the his current social worker allegedly trying to contact the Social Services Department of the new county and failing...I rang the new county and was put through immediately. So far so good thinks I. His current social worker only works two days a week Tuesday and Thursday and was 'training' and then 'annual leave', so the transfer of his case file was delayed. I telephoned the managers of both counties departments and chivied the buggers along a bit.... Following my conversation with the managers of the respective departments, Uncle Albert was assigned a new social worker who would contact me on the Monday to organise his transfer and move out of care and into his own flat by the 1st of November. Monday came and no phone call. So I rang the new social worker...who only works Tuesday and Thursday and was currently on annual leave until the 2nd of November. I see a pattern emerging here!

I'm slowly being suffocated by red tape and paper as I try to equip Uncle Albert's new apartment with the things he needs to make things easier for both him, me and his carer as well as keeping the old boy amused. The latest batch of forms concern fitting a washer/dryer and a TV satellite dish into his apartment. The forms ask not just 'why' I want to install said items but give me an instruction to 'give my reasons for installation in no fewer than one hundred words'. Why the word count I'm wondering? So I thought I would share the reasons I have given...shamelessly borrowing some material. TV & Satellite Dish "Our attempts to entertain my father using shadow puppetry are time consuming.We are running out of possible scenarios utilizing my lack of skill in the area of characters. There are only so many scripts that include provision for 'deformed rabbit' and a 'caterpillar'. In order to facilitate my father's interest in the Jeremy Kyle Show I have been leaving him in his wheelchair in the town center to people watch.However now that winter is almost upon us, his social worker says we are no longer allowed to do this...even if we provide him with a hot water bottle and a blanket. It was suggested that we buy him a TV.This we did and Dad now sits happily in front of the set shouting 'Do Deformed Rabbit', however after reading the instructions we discovered that if we attach the TV set to a satellite dish we will achieve better results." Washer/Dryer "Although I provided my father's carer with washing facilities she tells me that the rock is extremely heavy and the distance from my father's flat to the river is too far to cover within the allotted two hours per day she is paid for. In addition to this the flood defences on the Town side of the river make it difficult for her to get to the water's edge and contravene both Health and Safety legislation as well as the 1870 Town Ordinances concerning bathing and washing in the river to reduce cholera outbreaks. On warm days she can dry the washing a little on her way back from the river but due to the constraints of carrying the rock she cannot get enough speed up the hill to dry the washing thoroughly. I have instructed the carer to direct the hot air she exhales whilst panting with exhaustion at the washing but this is still not efficient.. I asked the Carer if she was 'A' or 'B' rated but she tells me she's a '38 DD' and although she's 'never had any complaints' I don't think she complies with EU regulations. I believe a simple solution to the problem would be to install a washer dryer."

I was about to say my collecting days are over and then I took a look around my flat. Lined up neatly side by side on my desk are my Zippo Lighters, a 1936, 1947 and 1976 all in working order. I also have a multitude of other Zippo's stuffed in drawers. I also have a vast collection of books and notes on English History and Archaeology. If you have written a paper or monograph on an aspect of history then chances are it is filed away in what was my daughter's bedroom and is soon to become my library. What may surprise many is my interest in 'Women's History' a result of a chance conversation on a train with Germaine Greer one of the most fascinating and dynamic women, after my other half of course, it has been my good fortune to meet. I have many volumes on the social history of women from the middle ages to the Victorian era. Musical instruments seem to hide in every available cupboard and room. Guitars both acoustic, electric and electro acoustic, bass, mandolin, concertina, banjos, mouth organs, penny whistles, recorders from bass to piccolo. More recently woodworking and power tools lurk in any available space until my shed arrives. Art plays a weird and contradictory role. Sad to say that for all my interest in Women's social history in my later career as an illustrator I specialised in 'pin ups' and I still have a fascination with the work of Gil Elvgren and earlier pin up artists as can be seen in my own work below. I also have a fascination for Science Fiction and Fantasy fiction which often carries over into my artwork. Particularly that 'vintage' or retro feel. I think it's something to do with shape and colour, perhaps pattern...I'll tell you what it is...its TEXTURE. As my weirdest collection may perhaps testify to. Where most folks will take a photo of a landscape or a building I have thousands of pictures of brick walls, stone walls, concrete, wood, fabric, human anatomy, metal. Just realised this makes me sound like a serial killer. But let me explain...when I'm building 3D models for animation or film & TV I use photographic references to 'paint' the textures onto the models. I say 'paint' because you can't just slap a photo onto a model and expect it to look real. I take my reference image and loosely paint a texture and then tighten up the details. For example the model below of part of the Great Hall at Hogwarts may look like stone but is actually made up of reference images of bits of Lincoln Castle, my father in law's garage wall, some muck or grunge I spotted on the back of Doug's (brundallNavy) camper van and the concrete in Richardson's Boatyard. My biggest collection at the moment are bills relating to Uncle Albert...but that's a whole other story!

So here's an update... Back pain has eased off somewhat, still the odd twinge whenever I move sharply. The sciatic pain has moved down into the lower left ar glu buttock and down the left leg. I've tried to stay on my feet during the day and the pain has lessened considerably. The GP has also upped the dose of one of my regular medications that stops the tingling in my left side after the strokes. I've also added a couple of Ibuprofen to my meds in a morning, when the pain is at its worst. Other changes I've made are to the amount of coffee I'm drinking and I've swapped the roll ups for vaping. So far so good. The pain has eased somewhat and I'm more mobile. The GP has also given me instruction that should Uncle Albert play silly b's when lifting etc I should just 'drop him', better still force him to use his zimmer frame properly. I have the old duffer today so we will see how that one goes!

Thanks for the advice guys. Sitting on a packet of Birds Eye's best as I type. Will be nipping to Tesco for a cold pack once the dogs are walked. I suppose I feel as though I'm back at the beginning as this was the medical issue that prompted the operation that gave me the first stroke. Posture I admit is extremely poor. It was being fit and healthy that did for me. Running....worst thing for you! Exercise...other than dog walking which feels like some form of Roman punishment, dragged asunder by two fat beagles, a labrador and an Alsawhip...has slipped of late. I seemed to improve healthwise when I paid regular visits to the gym. A little cycling, rowing but mostly weights. This followed by an hour in the steam room and sauna and a leisurely swim. Uncle Albert put paid to the gym with thirty plus missed phone calls every time I went. I'm afraid that the old buffer is going to have to learn to give it a rest, as if I'm knackered then so too will he be. That's it then...as I type I realise I have to get healthy. As JM say's its a wonder I have the energy to go boating (sanding and varnishing). So here is the goal and challenge....fit by Christmas? I'm fifty on the first of January so that is the target to feel better instead of feeling and looking old. Don't get me wrong I don't mind the grey/white hair, its the looking more like Uncle Albert with every passing day. I suppose alarm bells should have started ringing when my Granddaughter approached me one day and asked if she could feel my belly. "Is it moving? Is it a baby rabbit?" she asked thinking I was pregnant. Gee thanks Gracie! So here is my mission and I have chosen to accept it. Fit by Fifty! Step One: Stop Smoking, go to the GP and sort the back out! Watch out for regular updates!

Not Uncle Albert this time, but he's probably the cause, Helping Dad up from the chair the other day and he decided he would just 'flop' all over and drop all 18 stone of his weight onto me because ...and I quote...he 'thought it would be funny'! All of his weight went onto my one good arm and I heard a distinct 'crack' from my back. The brace I wear to support my shoulder after the stroke split. Having already had two discs removed I now can't get my own damned shoes and socks on...let alone cope with Uncle Albert. To make matters worse it appears I've nipped the sciatic nerve where the discs have been removed. Now I'm not saying we are a bunch of old crocs but does anyone have any tips for relieving sciatica other than perching on my hot water bottle as I type?

Finally all traces of Windows 10 have been eradicated from my network and once again all software is running as it should. I've added Windows 10 to my list of 'Do Not Install on Pain of a Smack in the Ear'ole'. Just for information software on this list include: Windows 10 Windows 8 Windows Vista Skype Norton McAfee Internet Explorer Hitfilm Express Rhino 3D Later versions of SketchUp Anything from NCH Software Anything from Serif. Microsoft Office Finally time to get some work done...unless of course Uncle Albert wants...hang on phone's ringing.... "Yes Dad? You want what? You've done what exactly?" "&^%*&^%%^$%$£$£%(&()*&)(*&^&%" "On what planet and in what dimension did you think that could possibly be a good idea?" "$%$%^*&_(^&*%^$$£$£" "I'll be right over! Is there anything you need while I'm passing Tesco?" "$^%$^%&(*^*()(*&)(*&)(*^&%^$££!"!$%&^%&)(&)%%^$£$£" "I don't think they sell those in Tesco, I'll see you in half an hour!" As I was saying...time to sort Uncle Albert out and then get some work done!"

I will have you know Iain that all women know what they are doing...its just not what they were asked or supposed to be doing!