Monday, 30 March 2009


Just got back from my tennis tour. Sorry - my tennis four. Tuck it! Why are 'T' and 'F' so close together! There's me and these three little old ladies. OK you can stop sniggering. I know what you're thinking..."These men! They can't bear to lose! Have to have soft opponents." Well no, I can't bear to lose - but I do - often.

When I get there we go through the routine of who plays with who by spinning racquets several times and trying to hide the result. Whoever gets me says nothing but has that look which means 'Why me? Did I do something bad in a previous life?' It's like those times at school when the two captains picked teams. The highlight of your day was when there was just you and 'Nerd minor' left and you got picked ahead of him.

Time was when I would hold the door open for little old ladies in case they didn't have the strength to open it. Or give up my seat on the bus in case their skinny little legs snapped as we swung round a corner. Well its no more Mr. Nice Guy. Once they get on the court its like they are on tennis Viagra! A gentle waft of their racquet and the ball whistles past like a sniper's bullet.

Its not as if they are any good at the game. If the ball is within range I carefully hit it so it goes near one of the old dears on the other side of the net so she can hit it back again but does she do the same? No. She clearly has no control over where her shots go because her returns are usually well out of my reach. Where's the fun in that? I spend most of the time fetching balls from the back of the court.

Actually, one of them does have some control over where her shots go. Knowing that I'm a bit precious about my new spectacles, she seems to have an uncanny knack of aiming her shots straight for my face. This prompts me to do my impersonation of a wimpy girl who's got a wasp in her hair doing the boogie. It also loses me the point.

So here's the deal. I need you to hit the 'comments' button below and give me some tips on how to beat these muthertucking guerilla Grannies. Next time we play, I want to use my tennis racquet like a machine gun and wipe them off the court.

Saturday, 28 March 2009


The world is in recession and for once, Britain leads the way. At the last count the nation was worth £3.28p plus a few pesetas left over from the holiday. The Queen has even summoned the Governor of the Bank of England to ask him what's left in her piggy bank. Brokers are jokers, bankers are wankers, butchers are selling entrails and charity shops are re-branding as chic boutiques.

But there may be an upside. What we are seeing is a commercial revolution. A well-known shirt shop whose shirts usually sell at £65-£85 suddenly announced that all their stock was for sale at £19 per shirt. I'd never been in the store before, assuming that you had to be a member of their gentleman's club to shop there. Woo-Hoo! I was lording it round there, tossing shirts around with gay abandon. OK - I was looking at sizes way too small but as I said to the lackey who tried to direct me to the bull-neck section, I was just checking patterns out before thinking about a purchase.

With the sharks circling, I ambled over to the 17 inch collar shirts. Foolishly, I reached out to touch one. Smelling blood, an assistant moved in. "What is your arm length Sir?" Resisting the temptation to reply that it runs from my shoulder to my wrist I muttered something about 'regular'. "Double cuff or button?" "Chest pocket or plain?" "Stiff collar or soft?" Treating these questions like annoying flies I waved them away and set off for the charity shop where they sell shirts without sharks!

Friday, 27 March 2009


Well I imagine I can write anything here - who reads a first blog anyway?
When I was in hospital, the nurse would bring me a bedpan in case I wanted to 'have a motion'. Euphemistic? Moi? As we know, continual intake of food creates waste which needs to be expelled in the form of 'logs' (well that's what we call them round here!). You can tell when this is necessary because you feel a fullness which can become uncomfortable.

Now, I want to give you an allergy - sorry an analogy. Our minds continually intake experiences which need to be expelled - (you can see where this is going) - in the form of 'blogs'. You can tell when this is necessary because you stay awake at night with words churning round your mind urging you to get them on paper (OK enough is enough). :)

So this is the place where my mind will have its motions. Please feel free to inspect them whenever you have nothing better to do. If you notice anything odd let me know.

Oh and one more thing. I'm trusting you to be on dementia watch.