Timbo

I'm with Griff on the dear old A17/47 being a complete pain in the 'arris although after an enforced absence I do miss it. A quick rewrite of a Saw Doctors tune will give me 'Oh how I wish I was on that A17 Traffic's stalled But the grass is green!' I don't have a problem with engine noise in a morning. I wrote about it on the blog in a post entitled 'Uncle Albert's Fireworks'. I do have a problem with televisions...they need banning.

Still no joy on the trouser front for Uncle Albert. I despair at the idiotic modern sizing scale of S,M,L,XL and XXL. Uncle Albert is classed as FB but only around the middle! Let me try and conjure the picture for you...no...no I insist...if I have to suffer nightmares it's only fair that you all should join me. The sight of Albert in his undercrackers is a little like ...imagine if you will a knock kneed 5ft tall sparrow playing a bass drum has become trapped in the changing cubicle and is shivering from fright. So we have abandoned the fancy trousers and stayed with the jogging bottoms for the minute and decided to tackle him from the other way up...starting with his damned blazer. I have to have it dry cleaned every week, its a complete pain to put on and take off of him and I need to replace it with a smart, light weight jacket with sizeable internal pockets to keep his sweetie stach and notebook in. Incidentally, a recent visit to our local Indian Restaurant and the head waiter asked how Uncle Albert was getting on. The last time I took him in there for a meal, the waiter approached the table and said "No offence, but you two remind me of someone." "I had a cousin that was a waiter!" says Uncle Albert. "Not in our restaurant I wouldn't think." said the waiter. "Could have been, our Peter liked a curry!" exclaimed Uncle Albert. The waiter returned with our main meals. "Ayam dalam bakul!" said Uncle Albert. "Pardon?" said the waiter. "That's Malay Dad, he won't understand you! I can't understand you!" I told Uncle Albert. "So what language does he speak?" asked uncle Albert turning to the waiter. "Where...are...you...from?" Uncle Albert asked the waiter loudly as I cringed. "Brad...ford!" said the waiter winking at me. As I settled the bill the waiter grinned at me. "No offence, but I've remembered who you two remind me of!" he said. "Go on!" I urged dreading the reply. "Steptoe and Son! No offence!" grinned the waiter. The thing is, every time I go for a curry they ask me to bring Uncle Albert back to visit. "He's a bloody good laugh mate!" says the waiter.

Aquafibre of Rackheath Grendel? I thought I was bad with my size 12 hoofers, but we're missing an opportunity for a new budget hire fleet, if only we could fit an engine in your old slippers we could use mine as tenders!

The PENULTIMATE cure for pongy feet was discovered thus: As a kid I suffered badly....I mean really badly with 'foetidum pedes' or stinky feet. Tried everything in the book and the doctors book. Meanwhile we also kept chickens which suffered from scaly foot...see photo! The veterinary cure for the chickens was very expensive but not very effective. Over a pint at the local pub with Burmah Oats the local poacher and grave digger Uncle Albert received the following wisdom. Purchase potassium permanganate from the local chemist, put a couple of crystals into some water and dip the chickens foot into it. "And it also works on hoomings stinky feets!" added Burmah. And it does too! Works a treat on chickens and after sticking my feet in the purple solution worked a treat on my stinky feets as well! Although I did tend to act like a c*** throughout my teens this was put down to me being a teenager and not the treatment...although some might say I'm no longer a teenager but still...

Ah but you sock wearers are in peril....this news just in from the BBC...and from Suffolk of all places...Socks are the instrument of Satan! Mark ch 6 v 9 "Be shod with sandals". Although there is an earlier text which seems to have the additional verse Ch6 V 9a "But don not the socks of white with thine brothel creepers, unless thou hast a note from thy GP."

Picture if you will a little Spanish fishing village. Well off the beaten track, no English tourists. The only two Englishmen who probably ever graced the village were Walter, a little bloke...so Yorkshire his dialect was almost a continuous vowel movement...and your truly. Both Walter and I were residents of the village and neighbours. One afternoon we took a break from our labours to saunter across the beach to the local tapas bar for a couple of cold ones and Walter asked me if I would ever leave such an idyllic place. "I've said before Walter, the first time I see someone wearing socks with sandals and carrying one of those walking sticks with the badges on...the first whiff of an english accent that's not mine or thine...I'm off home!" I declared. A couple of beers later I was just tucking into a fresh caught tuna salad...lettuce caught on a rod and line and not netted, when along the beach comes some tit in sandals and white socks with a walking stick with badges on it. Trailing behind him is his wife and two teenage daughters. They sit at the table beside Walter and I and the daughters begin a conversation with each other. "Are ya goin to Black n White's tonight?" drawled one to the other. Walter looked at me mouthing the question 'Black and Whites?' "They mean the night club 'En blanco y *****'!" I said paying the bill and getting up. "Where are you going?" asked Walter. "Home!" I replied. Walter drove me to the airport next morning. Now may I add Gracie...I find nothing wrong at all in the sight of a young lady in a summer dress and Doc Martin Boots! Footwear for me is a choice of steel toecapped boots or Karrimor walking shoes. I have a pair of proper shoes somewhere at the back of the wardrobe. Griff....Black tie and ball gowns...what, together?

Is it a cunning weasel of a plan? A plan so weasely you could brush your teeth with it?

Uncle Albert is also level headed....he doubles as a handy resting place for my beer if there is no room at the bar...the bolts in his neck are also useful for hanging your jacket from!

Has anyone else noticed that if heron's are away from their normal fishing spots along the river frontage in Horning & Wroxham they put up plastic replicas of themselves so as not to disappoint the tourists?

As grandparents from both sides of the family were from farming stock one of my Nan's lessons given to me as a child has stayed with me into adulthood. "Your animals come first, they rely on you for everything. One day you will ask them to give up their life for you, its only fair you do the same for them BUT a cow is a cow, a sheep a sheep, an 'oss an 'oss and a dog is a dog and its up to you to do the thinking and make 'em behave." Wise woman my Nan.

Can I also recommend...the muddy puddle as an alternative shandy. As I usually ended up as chauffeur I was partial to a shandy...however lemonade tastes different around the country. One thing that always stays the same is Coke....so a bitter and Coke shandy...terrible to pour, looks awful, tastes great and with a consistent flavour. Although asked for one in Scotland and got thrown out of the bar. Happy Eater everyone!

You were on Fishery Protection duty with Uncle Albert! When the wind gets up we head for one of the sheltered moorings up the Ant. This is where Uncle Albert comes into his own scanning the water...for what I'm not sure...but on two occasions in the past he's identified a mooring that I would have not considered sheltered but while everyone else was buffeted we suffered hardly a ripple. One place I would not moor in any circumstance is the BA moorings at Thurne Mouth. Even when the rest of the Broads is like a Mill Pond the 'slap' here is enough to send a sane man round the twist...so for someone like me...?

We have plenty of names for yachts...but we civilized people with a proper means of propulsion are far too gentlemanly to use them...until we get thrutched with a bowsprit & even then the worst that will issue from our mouths will be 'Oh bother!', maybe 'Dang it!' if the damage is severe or we spilled a drink. You just ask Maurice Mynah...when he got thrutched he just tutted...honest!

Excusemole Gracieloders, certail factloders are incontrovertibole! Iain and Timbo is not Mr Stupey stood all noggin-scratchit and cursey waiting white coaty. Deep Folly! Timbo and Jockanese hopo has alway takel keenlymost interest in scientiffy and the questafole for erudile wisdy displayed in NBN forum from far-flummery corms of the glober but mostly Norfolkus. In additional Iain is certifield sex symbole like Simolly Cowers on Britain's Got Talons, all smugloder on the facebole and hairstyley like chimpanzoo's. Deep joy!

Breaking news...Official statement on the flower pots..... "Flobalobbalobalob floablob flobbalobbalobbalob, Flobbalobalob flobalob!!

At the minute I'm doing a quick revamp of the opening titles for the BoatsLOG video blog. A little more adventurous this time I'm animating the titles in 3D. I'm currently working on a 3D model of a stack of books and I'm running out of suitable titles to place on the spines and covers. Suitable titles that only NBN members could possible dream up. All suggestions welcomed, a quick snapshot of the model I'm working on at the minute is included for inspiration...all suggestions welcome!

Whose dongle do I use? Iain...my own! Like Robin I have the Three Mifi...but if I'm really really honest...what I actually do is forget about the internet until I'm within walking distance of Stalham and use the Tesco Broadband. I do however have a triple Sim phone so one of em usually gets a signal. Huawei...as a lifelong Newcastle fan... is of course pronounced 'Why aye' man!

Dear Sir, you go too far and I am sure Iain will support me in this matter as he too is Scotts, and as on occasion I fall over. Although they may be a 'footnote' on the folk/pop crossover scene, Leith's finest should not be used as an actual footnote on a topic. Besides which to put just one of them on the bottom of a topic may be considered cruel. After all they have been twins for a long time, both at home and at work. As for the nut content, surely this would depend on whether you get the one that sings the high notes? Attaching one to the bottom of a topic also brings into question 'mobility' issues. How could one 'walk 500 miles' if he's stapled to the bottom of a missive or indeed a chocolate bar? Yours sincerely Gladys Baumflogh

What I never understood, among many many things, was why Topic's were always smaller than Mars or Marathons. In the modern parlance I must 'go commando' as I don't do 'Snickers'. Come to think of it I don't do Cif since they changed from Jif, there's clinics for that sort of thing. I just don't get this name change rubbish...but then if people want to see a Costa coffee shop at Potter Heigham and I can get some investors together how about National Perc for a name? Not so much off topic as on lots of them!

Eee I dunno Marina young 'uns today. There's no respect...its all press this button ere, facetube this and twitface that. What's missing round 'ere is a good fence for us to lean on. It's all right saying if you want to know what's happening press this button, but what if we want to know what's really happening...like 'er...you know the one I mean...the one that's...well....I said to 'er "you wouldn't stand a chance, you might have TwitFace but we had things that you didn't like Diphtheria, an' Hitler, OK OK I know Rickets is making a resurgence but what do you expect putting them politic posters up for the Chinless & Gormless...in 'er window, in 'er actual window...and with those nets...'ave you seen the colour of those nets?" I'm off before I get a thick ear!

What an eyesore...looks like the Costa del Cleggy in miniature, either that or 'Some faarmer pullin' a loose lood on his 'ractor shud his po'ato boxes full f weeds down thur green'! If disabled parking spaces are too far from the amenities I won't visit. I did use the butcher in Horning, as well as the deli but there are other places with easier access ...that don't look like Cleethorpes.

Welcome from us too! Like many Scots delicacies there's a good chance Iain may be battered!

Here is the official verdict from Uncle Albert.... "That fella's right...its got more oink than a Reliant Regal. Looks like Daft Bleeder's helmet (he means Darth Vader). Nice colour seats. Any chance of a cup of tea? Tim! Come and look at this ugly boat on the telly! I thought you were making some tea? Tim come and look at this boat. Any chance of a cup of tea? Come and look at this...bring some tea..." ...and so the week begins!

Switched on Radio 4 this morning half way through a programme which was talking about the "BNP" and similar organisations constantly reinventing themselves to avoid falling foul of anti terrorism legislation. It took a while for my brain to scroll through blog posts, several theories and reboot before I cottoned on that they were not discussing the Broads Authority!

"You have a go at steering Mum!" says the youngest lad. The other half reluctantly agrees. "Turn to port a bit." instructs the lad as the other half takes over. "Come to port Mum!" the lad's getting nervous as we head for the bank. "Mum! Turn left!" the lad yells as the bank now looms ever closer. "MUM! YOUR OTHER BLOODY LEFT!" he screams as I take over the helm. An hour later, over lunch at a hostelry in Wroxham my other half informs us she wishes to take car driving lessons and I should swap my car for something smaller that she can handle. What was the next car I bought? V8... Estate!! As for saily things Grace, I now use the Uncle Albert method. Wait for them to indicate their intentions and then pass behind them. Of course if they fail to indicate their intention Uncle Albert's hand gestures are optional!