In and Out of Fashion.

I like to be smart. Julia used to laugh at me because I was in my 30′s before I wore jeans. Though once in them I actually found I quite liked them , of course it was then a battle to get me to go out in them. That battle won, and people having stopped pointing open mouthed at seeing me, it was time to come to terms with trying to accomplish smart/casual.

I always had a couple of waistcoats since suits were generally 3 piece when I was younger and I found I was quite comfortable wearing a waistcoat with my jeans. Of course during the sixties my rebellion was to wear shirts with side buttoning mandarin collar and rather brighter coloured trousers than normal and during the seventies the experimentation was rather more with my hair having got an afro from a friendly hairdresser ( though I insisted it was done in her back room and not in the main salon). I confess here and now only if you promise never to mention it again that I did have at least one pair of shoes with a three or four inch sole and a pair of flared trousers that would have hosted a boy scout jamboree.

( Now you’ve seen this picture erase it from your minds and newer speak of it again).

The eighties were more staid though a few curls may have remained until I got married ( after which I was lucky to hold onto my hair). I became more adventurous with my waistcoats until I found they were going walkabout. Julia started slipping them on, I suppose in those days it was a compliment to my slim figure that they fitted her               ( more or less). They were multi-hued and of a variety of materials able to be worn with just about anything casual. I seem to remember that quite a few people were wearing similar relaxed styles but still within the bounds of taste.

The nineties saw me looking harder at the style of clothes I wore and maybe I tones down slightly on the colours, certainly for work and since the waistcoats seemed to be shrinking in the damp British climate I had to buy one or two more. My older ones, and some of the newer ones still seemed to disappear though I was not so aware of Julia wearing them now. That mystery was solved when I found Yvonne replacing one in my wardrobe and choosing another to go out in- after all, one can’t be seen in the same thing too often. It occurred to me in those days that had her friends seen me in one she’d worn previously, would they think me a strange old man borrowing my daughters clothes?

By the 2ooo’s fashions had changed so much on the streets and I despaired of ever seeing anything smart again. We were seeing the advent of the jeans that hung down by the knees, underpants that had to be shown, harem trousers and I had taken to sending tear stained letters to designers to ask when the wheel was due to turn Edwardian again and who was the brave one to brink frock coats back. I wore and still wear a frock coat. My waistcoat collection is probably approaching the forty mark and includes most colours, some great patterns and some wonderful fabrics. One of my favourites is a brocade one. It was about this time that I also added a couple of top hats to the mix since they’re always handy for the more formal occasions I have to attend and started a collection of walking sticks. Now there was a time I used walking sticks rather than crutches, but that was because I used to be able to run faster in those days and she didn’t catch me as often. I don’t have as many as I’d like ( who does) but over the last few weeks it’s necessitated me looking for a hall stand.

I watch a lot of antique programmes. One thing you’ll forever hear is ” Oh, brown furniture, nobody likes that anymore, you can’t give it away”. I’m here to tell you that’s not true, BUT, if there’s anyone anxious to give away a brown furniture hall stand, here I am. I’ve been on ebay, and those not at stupid prices are far enough away that I’d require a second mortgage to pay the courier.Towards the middle of the week I actually found one at £10, it was a beautiful one from about 1910 that someone had defaced  paintedt in pop art colours and designs. Whilst I was trying to find a means of transport that didn’t involve me selling the soul of my yet to be born grandson, the owner sold it elsewhere. I was devastated. I’ve had to content myself with a stick stand that someone has lime- oaked within an inch of it’s life. To be fair I quite like it even if it isn’t a hall stand but of course I won’t be eating for 3 months while I pay for it. Does this mean that brown furniture is making a comeback? If that’s the case is there a chance for sticks, waistcoats and my treasured frock coats?

One of my more colourful ones under brown frock coat. Ju was obviously dazzled by it ( and my charm).

Fact, Fiction and Conspiracy Theories.

Most people who read my blog posts know that I like to inject  little humour into people’s lives. Others of course make sure I never get my hands on a hypodeemic nurdle or anything else sharp. Given that the most exercise my brain ever gets is jumping to conclusions I decided today I’d try and stay serious and discuss some of those problems the world seems to face though some of them are things that people imagine and never let the truth stand in the way of a good story. Some of course are ( as far as I know) completely true and very worrying.

Let’s start with an obvious one and mention Roswell , New Mexico where in July 1947 an object crash landed. The Air Force claimed it was an experimental Balloon of some sort while others claimed ( and still claim) it was an extraterrestrial craft with alien lifeforms aboard that were captured and held for examination. I have some problems with this since I feel sure that by now someone would have leaked the truth if aliens really were involved. Also I feel that there’s no reason the U.S. Government need keep the fact that aliens exist a secret since it would be in their interest to have people be vigilant in case an invasion from Mars ever takes place. We need to know how strong they are so we know who’s bootheel will be on our necks in the future, alien ones or Governmental ones.

Less funny was information I gleaned today from the blog of a friend and very nice lady Lori Pinkley ( 
http://repressedexpressions.wordpress.com
  ). Her blog today is about something that happened in the early 1940′s when the U.S Government decided to do some experimentation with plutonium to get ahead in the Arms race. Unlike the Urban Myths that grow around incidents like Roswell I have the horrible feeling that this story is the truth. It seems that as part of the experimentation the Government acquired some land in what it considered a remote area ( displacing two townships and an Indian tribe) in South East Washington, and released plutonium isotopes into the atmosphere. Over a number of years this continued to happen and the radiation was many times that of the Three Mile Island disaster in 1979. There are many instances of cancer, there is ground, air and water contamination. It was 40 years before the confirmation of this was released and came into the public domain yet the Government refused to admit there was any danger and have not compensated the victims of this foul action. I accept that the current incumbents were not the ones who originally created this problem but Government still has a duty to it’s population.

Another friend in Australia lives in a rural community that suffers any number of bush fires. She lives with a sense of pending disaster during the summer months, yet her Local Government refuse to do anything about creating good fire breaks in the area. I don’t understand how people who have a responsibility towards the voters, towards other human beings, can sit on their hands and do nothing while people’s lives and homes are at risk.During one such fire this year the only exit from the area was cut off by fire. Yes, I know my friend could have made toast but she couldn’t even reach the shops for bread.

In the UK my Government is a coalition between the Conservative Party and the Liberal Democrats. The Conservatives ( Tories) won the vote but not with enough votes to form a Government. In order to place themselves in a position of power for the first time the Lib. Dems agreed to join the Tories but at a price. That price ( amongst other things ) has been to deny the people of the UK a vote on whether to stay in the European Union or not. This was a broken promise I was very unhappy with as I’m definitely a Euro sceptic. Since the coalition was formed things have gone from bad to worse here. The disabled, including those with mental health problems have been told that the Disability Living Allowance they receive is to be stopped. They will all be interviewed and awarded a new ‘personal’ allowance IF they warrant it. People were told not to worry as in some instances it could mean they actually receive more. What wasn’t said was that many would receive nothing. Those with mental health problems who have difficulty with forms are at risk of losing out. The assessments for these new allowances will be done by a private contractor who was previously responsible for assessing DLA claims where most were turned down out of hand in the first instance. Our ‘Conspiracy’ theorist say they have been employed to save the Government money. Again I have no reason to suppose that this is untrue and we have another instance of our masters not taking care of the most vulnerable amongst us. And yet……..they have for years allowed non domestic companies to get away with paying no tax. Companies like Starbucks earn big bucks selling their coffee here but pay no tax. Their contribution alone would be more than enough to offset the money the Government will recoup from DLA savings. There are plenty of other firms who are guilty of hiding profits offshore to avoid tax too. Not illegal but certainly immoral. What reason would the Government have for only now trying to stop this travesty when the public have raised the questions?

In all these cases it seems that the people in power are ready to deny the rights of the population for reasons that are only clear to themselves. Whether it be a Conspiracy Theory, and urban myth or the truth we seem determined to accept that the powers that be are not on our side. Some say big business owns them, some say the illuminati, the new Templars  and even the Masons. But whatever the truth, their every day actions with regards to their responsibilities towards the people feeds the myths. What do you believe of your Governments?

The Missing Doughnut and Bye Bye Birdie.

Long, long ago in the Dark Ages three hopeful spirits set out on a Pilgrimage. They were not seeking the elusive Holy Grail, but a much more mundane prize, The Perfect Summer’s Day.

Two adults ( though in on case that’s a matter of opinion) and one child travelled from their lonely village home of Llysfaen ( Cliss fine or if your tongue has straightened out from last time, Thliss fine) (Please send a crossed cheque made payable to me for these lessons I’m providing) to the shores of the great sea that floated in front of the Promenade at Llandudno. The sun beat down mercilessly, or to put it another way, the temperature actually achieved double figures. The child (Yvonne) like all the other children of this magical place grew hungry and thirsty. The adults who protected her ( let us call them David and Julia) saw that there was a place of abundance close by and went hunting.

David returned with a feast which was called Doughnut while Julia returned with drink from the sacred spring of St. Pepsi.  Yvonne started to sate her thirst and lifted the Doughnut to her mouth. At this moment the sky darkened. Time seemed to freeze momentarily and they knew a monster approached.!! Seconds later, even before they had time to hide beneath a bench the monster struck and Yvonne’s hand was empty. The Doughnut was gone !! Yvonne’s face crumpled as had her hand moments before. David ran to the place of hunting and quickly acquired a replacement. He placed it gently in Yvonne’s hand and her face lit up again bringing the sun back out. The hand grew round the Doughnut to encompass it and keep it from sight and tentatively she moved it towards her mouth. Success, she managed a bite. As her smile grew all three heard a beating sound like that of the little drummer boy rat, tat, tatting on his instrument. ( get your minds out of the gutter please).

All at one there appeared at Yvonne’s feet dozens of pigeons. She cooed with pleasure, they cooed back. Before the adults could warn her she started to sprinkle crumbs from the Doughnut in their path. The crumbs disappeared as if by magic, but the pigeons didn’t. They decided her knees would make good perches and moments later the adults had lost sight of their precious daughter as in her place sat a pigeon tree. David, being a wimp, was about to panic when Julia took action. “SHOO” she cried and with a huge whoosh the birds took flight. Yvonne was in some disarray since the pigeons obviously thought her hair was straw ( since they don’t eat gold and have no idea what blonde is). But in her hand she was clutching with determination half the Doughnut. She took a tentative bite when the sky darkened for a second time and down came the monster. This time it didn’t attack but landed close to Yvonne and started to stalk her. All the time it’s beady eye on her hand, all the time her eye on it’s huge maw. It was a test. The adults dare not interfere as these two forces of nature prepared to do battle. All of a sudden, Yvonne brought her hand up to her mouth and took a bite but before the monster could attack she threw the remaining piece down and said ” Awww, poor seagull, here you are.”

They say no kindness goes unpunished but that day the two adults were surprised to see it could happen. Yvonne was safe. She drank her libation from the sacred spring of St. Pepsi, gave a polite burp, and they moved on to other delights. A Punch and Judy show on the pier, a very short and uncomfortable donkey ride and even a bit of shopping though no Kinky Boots were bought. They lunched in another scared Sacred grove which came to be called The Cocoa House where they found fish with delightfully deep fried objects called chips. The adults partook of Sacred drugs called caffeines. And they grew tired.

As the day wore on David noticed Yvonne beginning to flag. ” Let’s go home” he suggested.  They headed towards their chariot which had been parked on the street of shops close to a feeding station. Julia took to the reins. They had noticed some of the seagulls ‘mooching’ about on the pavement near the chariot as people threw crumbs to them. Some landed in the road and as Julia pulled the chariot away from the kerb one of the braver seagulls made a dive for a large crumb. There was a crunch like breaking a stick of seaside rock and the two adults looked at each other and then at Yvonne. David got out to check and sure enough there was one monster less in the skies. Getting back into the chariot he said ” Whew, that’s lucky. the wheels went either side of it and missed.” Yvonne smiled again and said ” I wonder if that’s the one I fed?”

 

Kinky Boots.

I’d say it’s fairly well known that men make mistakes when they don’t think things through. Sometimes one mistake leads to another. Let me share with you a story about a man who did just that. Let’s call him oh, David just for fun.

The year was 1987 and it was during the summer months when the sun was out that David took a bus ride along the coast to the Queen of Resorts town of Llandudno, that’s ‘Clan did no’  for those who don’t speak the oldest living language of Europe. ( See, I try to be educational as well). Getting off the bus at what was then the delicately named place of Bog Island because the public loos were underground with the entrances on an Island which divided the road in two, David checked there was no egg on his chin ( no flies open), crossed the road and started looking in the shop windows. I have no recollection of why I  I mean David had gone to Llandudno that day  but he does remember that it was early and the shops were only just beginning to open.

David must have been at that end of town for some specific reason and there must have been an appointment or he wouldn’t have found himself looking in the window of a ladies shoe shop. But as (bad) luck would have it there was a sale starting and in the window was the most glorious pair of boots he just knew his wife would adore. What’s more they were down from £160.00 to £45.00 which is mmm, mmm  a lot. Without hesitation he dashed inside. They turned out to be half a size bigger than his wife took but she could just wear thicker socks couldn’t she? He paid and the boots were packed in a nice bag with all bits of confetti. David supposed they must have thought they were for a wedding.

Business concluded, David wandered wherever he needed to go before taking another bus home . He knew there would be a hero’s welcome and if I have to be brutally honest he was probably a little too full of self-congratulation. On arriving home David presented his wife with the parcel. ” What;s this ?” she asked. “Just a little gift I wanted you to have” I he replied. “What have you been up to David?” she asked, whereupon he realised the first mistake he’d made in not thinking things through, wives are always suspicious of spontaneous gifts. ” Nothing sweetie” he replied, “I just saw them and thought you’d love them.”

“Wouldn’t you like to put it to one side until my birthday next month?” she asked as he realised mistake number two in that he’s have to remember that ,and buy another gift. Kicking himself he answered ” No, I want you to have it now.” His wife unwrapped the parcel and covered the floor in the loose confetti earning him a glare for not warning her after she’d Hoovered up. At last she reached the gift and in place of the expected look of joy was one of puzzlement.

“How lovely” she said, “but it’s the end of June David and the sun is shining. It’s not pantomime season yet where I need thigh high boots to slap.” So came the next lesson , he hadn’t bought appropriate to the season  and also that all women can be snarky when they want. He plunged into a blustering explanation that the boots were almost exclusive and no-one else would be seen wearing them, to which she agreed but in a very smug way. She was also not convinced about the wearing thick socks to help get over the size problem though he thought he presented a perfectly reasonable argument.

Julia gave David a kiss and took the boots away. He thought he’d seen the last of them. But, in the winter of 87 and a few winters thereafter the boots made an appearance. They looked fantastic below an maxi or a midi or even over jeans. Over the subsequent years there were many more pairs of boots with riding boots and a sheepskin pair being the most seen until they were thrown away eventually and replaced. Maybe he just stopped noticing in the end. But this year 2013 in sorting out clothes, shoes and boots to be given to charity shops , 26 whole years later the boots came to light again. They’ve undergone three property moves but never been thrown away and are still wearable.( In David’s opinion anyway). I really think she must have liked them after all.

The Social Set and Friendships.

I was talking online to someone this week and the conversation got round to social sites. ” Of course” I was told ” you can’t make friends online. Not real ones. Plenty of acquaintances but not real friends”. As the conversation ended it set me thinking. I’ve often referred to some of the people I have on Social sites as friends. Could I be wrong?

I’ve been using social sites for quite a long time. From private members sites to Facebook, twitter and Gather.com.  I think the first person I met that I named friend was on a private members site. He’s a lawyer from the U.S. called James. He  thinks I’m friends so that I always have a lawyer to call on should I need one but in fact he’s been there as a dependable friend and confidante through some major crises in both our lives health wise and has often helped me in a fraud sideline. We reached a point of gifts at birthdays and Christmases that require real thought and indicate a real friendship.

Not all friendships can last of course as sometimes people go in different directions. I had another long lasting friendship that led to a really nice lady editing my books for me before they went on the Indie publishing sites. The fact that we did go separate ways in the end doesn’t diminish the friendship we had in my eyes. Of course because these are social sites we meet people on the ether from all over the known world. The internet makes it easy to laugh at distance. I was very fortunate that one young lady was due to come to the UK as an Envoy for her school and a youth group. Julia, Yvonne and I had the opportunity to meet her for a short time as she ventured close to Wales. We had been writing for a long time as she’s also an author, and yes, many of my friends are authors since it’s a common interest. In the case of this young lady I’d also been writing to her mother so she felt secure in letting her daughter meet us. What happened? Well we arrived at where she was waiting for us and she immediately ran to Julia and hugged her. To Julia!!!!!! It was me had done all the writing. But yes, I got my hugs as did Yvonne. I still write to Patti and I still consider her a friend and not an acquaintance.

I have friendships all over America. One in particular with a talented lady who trusted me enough to share her problems with me and who took a real interest in mine. That’s a big part of it for me, the fact that a friendship is based on sharing the problems or the fun with someone who doesn’t just want to talk about themselves or their latest book.  One of my greatest treasures is an Hungarian Aussie who sends about eight one line messages a day which are responded to in one line responses. We make them as funny as possible and delight in scoring points off each other. And yet, when Julia died, this friend was there for me with messages of comfort and help.Thank you Andrea.

If I added the name of all those I’ve come to call friend and the reasons we’d be here all day but there are some exceptional people I must remember. So I’m going to say thank you to those who’ve proved themselves cast in the correct role and please don’t think that this is a complete listing. I will forget some here and kick myself later when I realise it. Pauline ,Metan,  Normandie, Earl ( Gather), Wendy (Gather) Renata, Mary J., Jolyse,  Lorene, Lori, Chris (ASMSG) Grey (ASMSG), Niamh, Angelika, and more recently Martine. I’m more grateful than most of you will ever know. If I’ve forgotten to name someone it’s not that I don’t count you as friend it’s purely the sign of an ageing memory. Please forgive me and know I still value you greatly.

I’m adding an edit to the post at this point as I need to add a friend I greatly value whom I was not sure would appreciate inclusion when I first wrote this. She was not amongst the friends I was remiss in not adding by accident but rather on purpose. She is yet another writer and her name is Sherie. An author of good books she has  become a friend in a relatively short space of time and after the death of my beloved Julia was hugely supportive. I owe you thanks Sherie. xx Hugs xx

Take it from me, you certainly can make a good and lasting friendship on Social Sites even though you may never meet the person. If you’re open to friendship it can come from the most surprising directions.

Fate, Kismet or just plain old luck.

Fate, Kismet or just plain old luck..

Fate, Kismet or just plain old luck.

“I have a writer friend in the US who has INSISTED, under penalty of coming to visit me if I don’t, that I include here a mention of a free promotion I have going on one of my books.  She’s further insisted that I give the link to said book and promised to check back to make sure I’ve done it, threatening to post a promo and link in the comments if I don’t.  Seeing as how she’s vicious and not to be trifled with … here is the link to my promo, which is running this weekend only …

U.S. 

My Barsetshire Diary (The Barsetshire Diaries)

U.K. 

My Barsetshire Diary (The Barsetshire Diaries)

On with the tale…….Many of you will know that I used to work in Local Government. When I returned to Wales I took up a post which necessitated me roaming the County and checking the street lamps. I had to plot them on a map, verify the type of lamp they were and ensure it was only the ones run by my Local Authority which were plotted and not those run by the Highways Authority which were totally different altogether. Bored yet?

On one of my rural trips I was plotting a series of lamps when I got into conversation with a couple living in a large converted Church. I fussed their dogs, was invited to have a cuppa ( which I had to decline) and was invited back at some stage. Some few years later I decorated the flat in which my father’s mother lived only to have her die a few months later- not as a result of my decorating I hasten to add. Life moved on and I began a new period of work within the Authority which involved me working beside a river ensuring the bank was safe and the grass was cut short. One young man I worked with had a similar taste in music and as we were all quite friendly I allowed him to borrow some LP’s ( youngsters will need their parents to explain what LP’s are). Soon afterwards the Authority decided I was needed elsewhere and was asked to take on the job of  Deputy Manager of a new scheme they wanted to try. This was going to involve a lot of interviewing. I didn’t get my records back.

The first day of interviews went well. We’d decided where possible to take people who were not currently working and give them  chance ( the idea of a very forward thinking individual). They were mainly women but a few men a well. We took on 8 people that first day. The next morning I was prepared for another fresh start and the sun was out. It was early May and man had left the cave, invented the wheel and was now living in houses. It wasn’t a good start. The first three people weren’t employed but had no interest in becoming employed either.  Some kind body brought a cup of tea through just before person number four came in. My heart sank. Jeans, leather jacket and motor cycle helmet. The helmet came off to reveal a woman with quite long, straight brown hair who like the others didn’t look interested. And to be honest, because of the way she dressed for interview, I wasn’t interested either. But, custom said to plough on. It transpired here was someone suffering hardship and ho was actually a nice lady. She got a job, as did seven more that day.

I’m normally quite a quiet and reserved person but I don’t believe in separating myself from my staff as I need to know of any problems. We had two teams of 8 people some of whom were willing to work late shifts if necessary. I became quite friendly with the teams as I’d go out with them sometimes, especially if it was an evening shift. The lady from day two was around a lot of course and I confess I liked her a lot but had no idea how to approach her. I got into conversation with another girl who seemed quite friendly with her and found out that she didn’t have a boyfriend or husband ( in fact she’d sworn off men) and managed to find out quite a bit about her. The following day the girl came in and asked for a word with me. Taking her to one side she told me HER SISTER would be happy to go for a drink with me. I had no idea they were sisters because of the difference in names. So, plucking up my courage I asked her out and Julia said yes.

We’d been going out for 3 months and I was pretty sure how I felt about Julia. Still showing my usual cowardice I chose a night when we were sitting alone in her lounge to ask where she saw our relationship going. She prevaricated a bit and I asked what she wanted to happen to which I got the response I’d hoped and I asked her to marry me. She said YES. Since we were alone we decided to have a romantic evening and play some music. I started looking through her records and found something I liked. And something else, and something else, and one marked on the cover where mine had been. Asking her about them she said a previous boyfriend had left them. Every one I’d loaned him was there. Julia said I only proposed to get my hands on them again.

I didn’t want to wait and so we booked the ceremony for November 1st of that year. One of the first things to do, despite being adults, was for me to ask her father for her hand ( I told Julia he was desperate for me to take the rest of her too) so the following Saturday morning we set off to where they lived. I’d never been there before. You could have knocked me down with a feather when we arrived and I immediately recognised the decorating.

Next job was to visit her big sister to give her the news. This would be hard I was told as she was very sceptical with the speed of things. Her parents drove us there and when we came within sight I almost cried out “It can’t be” but it was. They occupied the converted church. At least I got the long promised cuppa. Julia and I had many a laugh about that period over the years. I know coincidences happen but was that what had happened or had fate taken a hand in things to bring us together like bookends? You’ll have to decide.