I pride myself on a nine-thirty-five blog post, maybe because I’m anal; not in the bottom sense. I’m not saying I’m an A-hole although there are some who would possibly disagree 😉 Anyway I hope everyone has had a fab week. I am helping someone out in their house – it’s okay it’s empty so I’m not breaking any rules, I really don’t want the Boris police sniffing around. I’m laying laminate floors as below. I have also been pondering bees – see below in case your not sure what a bee is. I saw a bee in the garden and wondered what he did with all the honey? Well, apparently wild bees don’t make honey because they’re miserable sods, this is a reincarnation both Quercus and myself would probably enjoy. It’s only sociable bees who make honey.
Why are youngsters put under pressure to choose a career? Now call me cynical but it’s all down to taxes. If we are all ‘good,’ go to school, study hard, get a good job, marry, buy a house, (debt) have kids, (debt) buy a new car, washing machine, dishwasher, etc (debt) then we have to work hard to pay for them.
So, we are brainwashed into believing these things are a measurement of our success. Did you know that some people borrow money to spend on Christmas? Seriously, they do! I read about a woman some years ago who spent £10,000 on a Credit Card at Christmas and she wasn’t even a Christian.
Do you remember the school career advisor?
‘So, Charlie what do you want to do after school?’
‘I want to be a motor mechanic.’
‘Well, sorry but there aren’t any jobs for apprentice motor mechanics in Bradford. How do you fancy working in a factory?’
He had a quota to fill lol. I stuck it for a year before securing an apprenticeship in a local garage. I often wonder what the point of the Careers Officers was. He didn’t get anyone from my class a job they actually wanted. One girl wanted to be a hairdresser and he got her a job as a packer in the Grattan Warehouse haha.
So lets encourage kids to do what they want, follow their dream. Because let’s face it whatever we throw them into now they probably won’t be doing it in ten years anyway lol.
Disclaimer: Laying in bed all day and playing on X-Box isn’t a dream xx
‘ ahabakum jamieana
I sit in my lonely room… there’s a song somewhere in there. The room where I write looks out over our little cul-de-sac… I hear and I see things so it is a good job I am not nosey. Although I do know what time people go to work and I noticed the lady from number 5a went out dressed to the ‘nines’ in the middle of the afternoon, I wonder if that was an illicit engagement? During the lockdown, the girl in the end house was kicking the door shouting let me the f*** in! And the chap with the Landrover does an awful lot of welding but as I say I’m not nosey…
It was our wedding anniversary last week. At one point I seriously believed I would get away with the dining out experience. But Boris decided I could afford to take the Princess to the posh restaurant after all. It wasn’t a landmark anniversary, eighteen years. Although I did consider presenting the Princess with a perseverance medal. The Westwood Restaurant in Beverley is always fabulous and we did have a lovely time.
Finally an Achilles update. After three months of no running, Yoga and physio I am trying some 5k jogs but the Achilles is not happy, hahaha. So against my better judgement, I am finally going to speak with a Doctor on Friday. Hopefully, she’ll say stop being a pussy and get out there and run! Take care my friends, aap sabhee ko pyaar.
“Bring her to Thornton-Le- Dale,’ said the big brusque North Yorkshire farmer as he slapped Crystal on the rump. Any other site and you may be wondering exactly what I mean?
This particular Crystal was a 300-kilo heifer who my nephew and I had saved from the slaughterhouse. I say saved, it wasn’t like the Iranian Embassy Seige but we did break the law. Once a beast has been sold to kill there is no going back. We decided she would make a great show beast and so it was a grey area haha. Upon our return, my sister and brother-in-law, noticing the punched ear, ran around the fold yard screaming. “We’re all going to jail,’ as I remember.
This was to be our first major year of showing cattle and the total was nineteen Championships, Crystal was the first. Of course in those days (the 1980s) cattle were ‘fluffed’ up so they resembled teddy bears. Whereas today it’s more natural.butchers shop with his son, he’s the one on the left and also the one doing free deliveries during the lockdown. But as you can see from the above photo livestock health and safety has always been a massive priority.
The showing life was grand. As I mentioned last week there was a lot of work, breaking in for instance. Have you ever been dragged around a barn by a 3-400 kilo animal for half an hour? Then there were the miles of walking, the washing, the blow-drying and the soaping up. It wasn’t just for grown-ups the kids loved it too xxx
Five am, the sun rises over the cornfield and the last thing you need to see is a drowned rat in a cattle trough. But hey ho, it happens.
As I fished the rat corpse out of the trough I heard a lorry coming down the lane. Through the mist of the recently woken, I remembered, the Pea Man.
Helping my nephew on the farm, many years ago could be surprising, today it was peas. Yup, he’d decided peas were good for buttermilk and they were cheap. I showed the Pea Man where he needed to tip them and as his trailer raised into the air the smell assaulted my nostrils. If I had thought the rat was bad… Anyway, they seemed less messy than the two-ton of beetroot he had ordered last month.
We arose at 5 am most mornings but this was a special day because it was Driffield Show day and we had seven bullocks and one heifer to wash and load. Of course, this was after we had ‘fed up’ (feeding animals) and ‘teemed’ (unloaded) a trailer of straw.
We were parading these beasts at the show. They weighed nearly half a ton and we had spent a lot of time with them. We had wrestled them, haltered them, walked them (oh yes every night for about 3 miles) and now we washed them, blowed dried them and brushed them.
There was an issue though. The man from the Artificial Insemination unit or the ‘A.I. Man, as we called him was calling around to impregnate one of the cows. But help was at hand, my brother-in-law, a city dweller on a day visit, had offered to ‘see to him’.
We packed our trunk, white coats, white halters, numbers and of course sandwiches and we were ready.
As we were about to leave the A.I. man trundled down the lane. I explained we had to go and introduced him to the aforementioned city dweller/brother-in-law and escorted them to the cowshed. Leaving them to it I began to close the door.
I overheard my brother-in-law say to the A.I. man. “Would you like me to hold your trousers?”
Oh! I bet that’s a story he’s told a few times.
Vaya con dios, amigos xx
Memory inspired from a conversation with my dear fellow blogger https://quercuscommunity.com/
All photos from Pexels today I’m afraid
It was my birthday last Friday (you don’t have to sing). My running partner came around for Prosecco and cake with her daughters. She has three daughters but one was sulking.
I’m not a great birthday fan but it appears other people are, so the Princess made a Tiramasu cake. I was surrounded by females, cake and Prosecco what was there not to enjoy. But as I get older I feel I am becoming Mr Hector
The plan is to arise at 6 am, no matter what, this is the key. I can have two hours to myself I cycle mostly (there is no traffic at 6 am) although I don’t like cycling, so I try a 5k jog now and again but the Achilles swells up! It’s been three months now. I believe it’s time it got over itself! And of course, I get quality time with Adriene or as Gillian (I’m bored with the Princess title) says, ‘That woman.’ I am rather enjoying the Yoga.
Curiously I stuck this into Grammarly and it states, I quote:
“Your text is likely to be understood by a reader who has at least a 7th-grade education (age 12) and should be easy for most adults to read.” Now you can take that whichever way you like, I guess. 😂
Happy trails 😍
I was quite happy, y’know? Go to Reader, scroll though posts, it was enjoyable. I could click on ‘Visit’ and it took me to your site, easy peasy, lemon squeezy 😍
Then suddenly this week the ‘Visit’ button has been replaced by a ‘Save’ button (is it called a button?) WTF? This afternoon after about three days of the new (It’s a rubbish idea WordPress) idea I think I’ve ‘Saved’ and then ‘Unsaved’ about 25 posts!
So, now I have to click on the post, click on your Site name and even then it doesn’t take me to your site. A very angry little Yorkshireman! 😤
Sometimes I am inundated with advertising which states I need Grammarly. So, I tested it with a few paragraphs from the Masters 😉
Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen, still used in UK schools as part of the GCSE curriculum. The first paragraph gained a miserly score of 87/100 with 5 alerts of misspellings, although to be fair 4 were full stops after Mr or Mrs which we don’t do anymore. But if I pay for Premium they will explain the problems with passive voice misuse and intricate text.
Finally The Overstory, Richard Powers’ Pulitzer Prize-winning novel 2019. A score of 90/100, 4 alerts ascertaining to, missing comma, incorrect noun use and 2 spelling mistakes. If you pay for Premium there are a further 6 alerts – Word choice, passive voice misuse, punctuation and 2 monotonous sentences.
Monotonous?? It’s a Pulitzer for gawd’s sake 😂😂
I put this post into Grammarly and my score is the same as Hemingway’s, so Pulitzer here I come 😘😘
Now I wonder if the young lady on the telly who tells us we need Grammarly to write a really good novel is… possibly wrong. 🙂
The alarm clacks its two bells at six am and I can hear Chuck Berry’s, ‘My Ding a Ling’ playing somewhere in the house. Normally I go back to sleep – I am only fifteen and a full day in the engineering factory awaited me. But my curiosity is aroused. I slumber my way into the kitchen. It’s true my fifty-seven-year-old dad is listening to the aforementioned tune!
This may not seem strange to you but rest assured this man listened to Radio 4, or read his paper or watched the news. “I like it,” he said, frowning at my gob gaping form. “Best get ready for work.”
I disliked getting up at 6am, I disliked being an apprentice engineer, I disliked Bradford, the fog, the cold, the two buses I had to catch and the people who lived in their little houses. From my view on the bus, the back to back houses reminded me of a rat run.
That was 1972 but I look back now with fondness. Isn’t it strange how we reminisce and what once appeared unbearable now seems romantic in a way? Well, it was better than sitting in my room all day playing Call of Duty 😉
Oh! I’ve done an About page by the way, it’s only taken me ten years to get around to it 😂😂
The mournful clouds oppress my soul. Of course, we have to presume:
A- I have a soul and B – If I have, could it be oppressed. But it’s better than saying, ‘I’m sick of the rain,’ isn’t it? I do know the sun lightens my soul, an indisputable fact. Couple this with awe-inspiring clouds and I’m happy.
I like to lay on the grass, there’s a smell, it transports you to childhood- particularly when freshly-cut. Grass fights with Susan Wright, we were twelve and if twelve-year-olds could be in love? We were. She was the school caretakers daughter and I could see her bedroom window from my bedroom window.
It was a long way away, so our romantic liaisons (if that’s what they were) consisted of switching our lights on and off. Maybe we soothed our physical absence by comforting our souls through the transference of light. Or maybe we were just two kids pissing around with light switches?
Anyway, I love to lay on the grass, watch clouds, smell bar-b-q’s, listen to the chatter of people as they wander past with no comprehension they are overheard. I hum‘Lazy Sunday’ Small Faces.
Gor blimey hello Mrs Jones
How’s old Bert’s lumbago?
(He mustn’t grumble) 😂😂