Away

Forgive me for playing tricks on you. Yesterday's blogpost "Praise" was  "scheduled" and so is this one. You see, we are not back home in Sheffield. Instead, we are staying in a cottage in the village of Alne - a few miles north of York.

The reason we chose Alne was because our friends Tony and Pauline have been staying there quite regularly. They have a large touring caravan (American: trailer) and it has been sited at the village's caravan park since the start of spring. Pauline is recovering from her second hip replacement operation. Having a bolthole in Alne seemed like a good means of getting away from home without travelling far.

Our end terrace cottage in Alne

Shirley and I have never been to Alne before. Co-incidentally, yesterday was the village's annual "Street Fayre" to raise money for play and recreational facilities. It is pretty much the highlight of Alne's social calendar with  the streets being closed off and various events - including two musical stages.

I sincerely hope that we had a good time!

I will let you know more about our sojourn in Alne when I blog again on Wednesday night - assuming we make it home safely of course!

Praise

In Praise of The Real Food Company - Doing The Right Thing

1.

Dear Real Food Company,

My order was delivered today by a member of The Royal Mail team. He did not force the package through our letterbox but instead placed it in my hand. I opened the package only to find this:-

All of the contents of the tub were now in the plastic bag. Somehow the tub had been squashed open. Whether this happened at your end or in transit, I have no idea.

I took the little tub out of the plastic bag and tried to rescue the contents after reshaping the container but no matter what I did, I could not repair the crushed cardboard base in a way that made the tub leak-free again. Of course, I could use sellotape or sticky labels but that is not the point. Naturally, I expected to receive the tub in tip-top condition.

I have no idea what your policy is when you receive legitimate complaints like this one but I trust that you will do the right thing.

I am very disappointed. Spending a total of £9.24 inclusive of P&P was a large outlay for this product and I was not expecting such a problem.

Yours truly,

Yorkshire Pudding

2.

Dear Yorkshire Pudding,

Your order has been refunded

Total amount refunded: £9.24 GBP. It may take up to 10 days for this refund to appear in your account.

We apologise most sincerely for this issue and for the inconvenience it has caused you but we hope that you will shop with us again in the future.

The Real Food Company

Parklife

 We have some lovely parks here in Sheffield - which is officially the greenest city in Great Britain. More trees per head of population here than any other place.

A ten minute walk down the valley from our house brings you to our much-loved Endcliffe Park. Every June, a travelling fair sets up in the park with rides and colours and lights and stalls. I guess it's about two things - bringing fun to local residents and bringing money to the fairground people. A week from now, they'll be gone - off to some other northern city.

Today, Frances and Stew took our darling granddaughters down to the fair. At two years old, it was the first proper fair that wee Margot had ever attended. See her at the top with her big sister in a red aeroplane (American: airplane) and below she's driving a bus which is apparently heading to Manchester. Her favourite children's song is "The Wheels on the Bus" so to be actually driving a bus must have been close to ecstasy for the girl.

Last Sunday afternoon, I made a point of visiting another local park - Whirlowbrook Park. For the last three summers, regular "folk" concerts have been held there to raise money for the volunteers who created a community group called "The Friends of Whirlowbrook Park". These good people have done a lot of great work to maintain and improve the park. I guess that if I were a "joining" kind of guy, I might have signed up  as a new "Friend".

As it happens I was there to see a real friend - my quizzing mate Mike who was performing under the gazebo with his two accomplices - Kiri the fiddle player and Jan the lead singer. They called themselves "Reclaimed" for the purposes of this concert. The circumstances made it difficult to snap a really good picture of Mike and this was the best that I could do:-

Fortunately, he really likes that image.

Naughty

My mother was a great one for singing snatches of songs when she was in a light and happy mood. It is a trait that I confess I have inherited.

The songs that Mum tended to reference were from her pre-war youth here in South Yorkshire and also from World War II itself. How many times did I hear her launch into "The White Cliffs of Dover" in the kitchen? It's a song that we had played over the crematorium sound system at her funeral in 2007. She would have approved of that.

In her prime, she had a strong and tuneful voice. When you have a voice like hers, it is as if you are in possession of a special musical instrument that might crack or wither if you forgot to practise playing it every few days.

This week I found myself singing one of Mum's favourite songs. I had not thought about it in years. It was a music hall song and a little mischievous. It first saw the light of day in 1913, eight years before Mum was even born. I believe it speaks of more innocent times. It is unlikely that Kendrick Lamar or Stormzy would or could ever record a similar song in this current decade.

It's "Hold Your Hand Out You Naughty Boy!"by the Manchester songwriter Charles William Murphy. This is the first verse with the chorus, followed by a rendition I found on YouTube...

At the club one evening Jones was telling all his pals

How much he hated girls, despised their golden curls

"You wouldn't catch me with a girl, you bet your life!" said he

"Girls possess no charm for me!"

Then one chap there at Jones began to leer

Picked up his cane and said to him "Come here..."

[Chorus]

"...hold your hand out naughty boy

Hold your hand out naughty boy

Last night in the pale moonlight

I saw you

With a nice girl in the park you were strolling full of joy

And you told her you'd never kissed a girl before

Hold your hand out naughty boy!"

So yes, for the past few days this song has become my latest earworm. Charles William Murphy wrote several other popular songs before dying at the tender age of forty three. His repertoire included, "My Girl's A Yorkshire Girl" and "She's a Lassie from Lancashire". A lot of his songs formed the soundtrack to World War One - sung in the trenches in the mud and blood and raining missiles.

Quiztime

Seasons come and seasons go but "Quiztime" goes on forever. Welcome you lucky quizzers to the latest episode of "Quiztime" with your genial host.... Please put your hands together for Quizzy McQuizface! (Sound of raucous applause and whooping). Today's quiz concerns mountains - an ever popular subject with quizzers everywhere. As usual the answers will appear  down in the comments section.

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1) This is the tallest mountain in Great Britain but what is it called?

(a) Ben Hur (b) Ben Stiller
(c) Ben Nevis (d) Ben Down

2) The tallest "mountain" or hill in Denmark is called Møllehøj but how tall is it in metres?

(a) 17.86 metres (b) 170.86 metres
(c) 7,860 metres (a) 17,086 metres

3) This is the tallest mountain in Africa but what is its name?

(a) Mount Kenya (b) Mount Zimbabwe

(c) The Atlas Mountain (d) Mount Kilimanjaro

4) The tallest mountain in New Zealand is called Aoraki in the Maori language but what is its European name?

(a) Mount Cook (b) Mount Christchurch

(c) Mount Kiwi (d) Mount Victoria

5) On which mountain in modern-day Turkey is it said that Noah's ark came to rest in The Bible?

a) Mount Sinai (b) Mount Ararat

(c) Mount of Olives (d) Mount Tabor

6) What is the second tallest mountain in the world?

(a) K9 (b) K1 (c) K2 (d) Kangchenjunga

7) This iconic mountain is in Japan but what is it called?

(a) Mount Nintendo (b) Mount Hokkaido

(c) Mount Sumo (d) Mount Fuji

8) What was the title of the 2003 epic period war drama film written and directed by Anthony Minghella? It starred Nicole Kidman, Jude Law and Renée Zellweger.

(a) Brokeback Mountain (b) Gold Mountain

(c) Cold Mountain (d) My Side of the Mountain

9) Who originally had a hit with the song, "River Deep Mountain High" in 1966?

(a) Ike and Tina Turner (b) The Four Tops

(c) The Supremes (d) Deep Purple

10)  This famous mountain is in The Swiss Alps but what is it called?

(a) Mont Blanc (b) Monte Rosa

(c) Weisshorn (d) Matterhorn

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That's all folks! How did you do?

Listless

Last night, through the magic of television,  I watched the Irish comedian Arlon O'Hanlon performing on the "Apollo" stage in Hammersmith, London. He came up with the idea of making a kind of anti-bucket list. Things that he would definitely not want to do and this has inspired me to do the same.

Things I never want to do...

• Swim with dolphins.
• Go on a rocket into outer space.
• Have any kind of tattoo.
• Spend a week submerged aboard a submarine.
• Take a bungee jump from a bridge.
• Visit Dubai - apart from the airport.
• Get trapped in a lift with Boris Johnson and Nigel Farage
• Do O level Maths again.
• Smoke another cigarette.
• Die in a transport accident.
• Feature in any kind of reality TV programme.
• Have any kind of cosmetic surgery.
• Pay for a SKY TV subscription.
• Read anything by Jeffrey Archer.
• Vote for The Conservative Party.
• Attend a horse racing event.
• Perform a striptease act at a Women's Institute conference.
• Get mugged.
• Have a drink with Elon Musk at Mar-a-Lago... or anywhere else.
• Shoot a  gun.
• Visit the USA while Trump is the president.
• Drive a monster truck.
• Wear a kilt.
• Try skydiving.
• Eat sheep's eyeballs.
• Become a monk.
• Attempt to climb Mount Everest.

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So that's my anti-bucket list but in the comments I invite you to share two or three things that you would definitely put on your own anti-bucket list.

Beckettian

Samuel Beckett

The term "Beckettian" is linked with the work of the Irish playwright Samuel Beckett (1906-1989). He specialised in dramas that are bleakly absurd and existentially comic - plays such as "Waiting for Godot", "Endgame", "Happy Days" and "Krapp's Last Tape". I first encountered his work when I was at university in the mid-seventies. Back then, Beckett enjoyed something of a cult following. There was no other dramatist quite like him but of course he's not everybody's cup of tea because he challenges you, makes you think and makes you wonder what it's all about.

And now for something very Beckettian.

It concerns a visit I made today to the residence of an old friend. He lives there with the wife he left forty years ago and one of his grown up sons who has become a full time carer for his parents.  Let's call the old man Frank, his 86 year old wife Betty and their fifty one year old son Peter. Frank is in his ninetieth year.

They live in a small two-bedroomed terraced house three miles from here. I realised I had not seem them in person since February so it was nigh time that I called in again. 

I took them gifts. A large Melton Mowbray pork pie for Frank, a bunch of flowers for Betty and four cans of lager for Peter.

They were very grateful but from the moment I walked in, the absurdity began. It's quite hard to explain but I will try.

Frank was sitting in the front room watching the BBC 24-hour news service with the volume turned up. Peter was still up in bed even though  it was gone midday. Betty was anxiously fussing about because she had a dental appointment at 2pm and Peter would be driving her there.

When all three were in the front room - all talking to me - it was as if I was a tennis player with not one but three competitors on the other side of the net. It's hard enough to return one ball but three balls at once? Not easy I can tell you.

Frank - Losing his memory and in his slightly demented state, believing that Betty and Peter are just after his  money. He can't much remember the pub we both sat in as regulars, nor any of the other customers  or the landlady. The names have evaporated. And he's obsessed with his hands and feeling occasional pains in his arms. And he realises he's lost weight. And he wonders why Betty just turned the TV volume down. And he hates Donald Trump and besides why does Peter drink cans of beer most nights?

Betty - She once lived in the house on her own but Frank and Peter came to live with her. And she has a cat called Simba that all three of them love. They are at least agreed on that. And she has been constipated with occasional bleeding from her back passage and do I like the blue jumper she is wearing? Peter found it in a skip (American: dumpster). And she has got to go to the medical centre next week and Peter is "a good lad" really. He has a "heart of gold" and she still worries about when he was sexually abused by her step father. He was only nine or ten at the time. And do I like liver?

Peter - Now downstairs and looking bleary-eyed. The appointment isn't until two Mum! We don't have to go yet. And he says, "Do you want this flask?" He is holding up a stainless steel flask he found on a wall. And his laptop has malfunctioned and he has lost lots of photos. Mum and Dad do not drink enough. "I'm always telling them".  And how did you feel when McBurnie scored down at Wembley? And do you want this dashcam? I found it in the middle of the road. And yes Mum! I know we're going to the dentist! It takes five minutes to drive there!

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The home environment is tatty, chaotic, in need of a deep clean. There are photos without frames on the mantelpiece and slid into the side of the wall mirror above is a birthday card I sent to Frank last November. In the other downstairs room - the kitchen diner - there are two bulky old easy chairs in the middle of the floor and another television on the dresser.

It is all a mess. Just like the conversational tennis match.

But they are good people. I have known Frank for thirty six years and remember him when he was in robust health and fully compus mentis. If it wasn't for Betty and Peter, he would definitely be in a residential home for the elderly, gradually slipping into the nether world that The President of the USA is currently heading to as he spouts about the awful UFC event and the crashing  Freedom 250 concert. Nobody of note wants to appear. Just like "Waiting for Godot".

Samuel Beckett would have had a field day with all of this. He really would.