Wednesday, 18 January 2017

Notes from the North of a small island...



This is ready for printing, the moment Scotland decides to break away from England, Wales and Northern Ireland, and joins the EU on its own!

The Euro will come later...

Tuesday, 10 January 2017

Footwork...

Back when I was a teenager, my music master was a dab-hand at the organ, and had risen to some pretty dizzy heights when he'd been younger. I think he got to 'Young Organist of The Year' back in the fifties, so he knew his stuff. On a rare occasion, I'd do the page turning for him.

One Sunday, mum and dad attended school chapel and he put on a real show at the end with Widor's Toccata, which is a real show-off piece demanding great skill and temperament. The music pages just flew by and he was playing his heart out!

Dad of course, immediately went out and bought the record, and played it incessantly. But on the flip side, there was this piece, which I love just as much.


But watching this version, the pedals just fly, and I'm always amazed that such accuracy can be maintained with such a challenging piece of work!



Tuesday, 3 January 2017

January beep beep beep...

Whoopee! We're already 10% through the 'nasty' month, and things are looking up already!

About this time of year, the gardening catalogues plonk through the letter box, well, into the outside box, as everything that gets posted the normal way gets shredded by JRT and growled at for several minutes!

So in the sunshine of a warm post-lunch tincture, Mrs O'Blene and your friend and mine, me, sat down to choose what we'll grow this year.

It's a bewildering task, as while I'm still a late middle-aged teenager, there will come a time when perhaps 'The Patch' might become a little too arduous, and I will cut back just a little. Mind you, what with a great new mower, and super tiller, and a decent electric bike to get down there, I have no real need to contemplate such things for many years, but these items below have been around some time, and we're going to try them.


As anyone knows, the first new spuds in the shops can cost a fortune, and we try and keep to 'seasonality', by using stuff when it's growing normally. We've grown first early potatoes in buckets on and off for several years, and always kid ourselves that we're saving cash etc etc, but these larger bags could well tip the balance, so the Jersey Royals (International Kidney doesn't sound so glamorous does it), could be within just a few yards of the kitchen, and plentiful at that!

Last year was not a good one for potatoes on 'The Patch'. Spring was a rotten couple of months, then everywhere dried out, and pests descended in their droves. We lost nearly all our first sowings, they just disappeared, and the second earlies got so big they developed an unusual condition, known as 'Hollow Heart' here. 


So this year, we'll change things around a bit, using both the Marshalls Gro-sacks at home in the greenhouse, and also sow some more in just a few of the beds on 'The Patch' under cloches, for more first earlies, and leave it at that!

A good chum has also given me some seeds of two unusual bean varieties, 'Greek Gigantes', which are pure white, and also the gorgeously named 'Cherokee Trail of Tears', and we'll be growing these up poles in all directions!

And the title of the post?


We always find ourselves singing it round now, can't think why...






Tuesday, 27 December 2016

Ooooh BUQQER...
















Just to keep everyone up to speed, Basil Kalashnikov has called a snap election to be held pretty damn soon...

Nobody has a clue what he's on about, or just what he is 'on' (probably Shep's 'Old Nasty - 6.7% - Ed), but an email arrived on the PC of  Ms Emily D'Artagnan-Minge only yesterday, while she was dusting the Waitrose Digestive Halal Christmas Pudding, to remove the detritus of the previous evening's shenanigans, where PC Lumbersnatch had to leave the bosom(s) of his lamentable family and intervene, and the glass recycling box near Miss Newt's abode had to experience an emergency disgorging.

Your correspondent doesn't know which way to turn on this issue, as both the editor and also his squeeze, Charlene Faqdefarno  are indisposed at this present time, indulging in a new Ipad game, called something like 'Spot the Corbyn'!

Just as an aside. has anyone here noticed that all the Christmas cards sent to Ms Billary's address have been returned unopened, and marked 'RETURN TO SENDER'?

No neither have I...

Sunday, 18 December 2016

Chrimbo time...






Senator and Madame O'Blene
Elias and Gloriette Sagtrouser
Meccano and Toniatelline 
Quentin ffoxley-Cabbage
Miss Amelia Newt and her partner Ron Groat
Basil Kalashnikov
Sid Trumpet
PC Lumbersnatch

All send the two good readers here their warmest felicitations for a great Christmas.

Ms Billary will be sending cards by post as she has lost Willy Clinchton's hard drive! (or he's lost it or it may be on a floppy somewhere).

Saturday, 10 December 2016

Big high 'Hoover'...





The Falling Leaves

Related Poem Content Details

November 1915
Today, as I rode by,
I saw the brown leaves dropping from their tree
In a still afternoon,
When no wind whirled them whistling to the sky,
But thickly, silently,
They fell, like snowflakes wiping out the noon;
And wandered slowly thence
For thinking of a gallant multitude
Which now all withering lay,
Slain by no wind of age or pestilence,
But in their beauty strewed
Like snowflakes falling on the Flemish clay.


We had our gutters cleaned out yesterday. At this time of year, we're bombarded by a ton of sycamore and ash seeds, and also nearly every oak tree within a hundred yards...

Saturday, 3 December 2016

Small uproar in Poorman, nobody really interested...

There was uproar in Poorman-on-Rhine's by-election, when a nobody called something like Susan Oxney became Sodden Prickney ward's elected member for something or other.

The Lob-Dum contender  had long campaigned for leaving the GLC's deplorable record on some sort of issue, mainly understood by three members of a sort of committee, mainly at the discretion of Basil Kalashnikov, and also she said that she supported some sort of vote for staying in the EU (they haven't - Ed).

So Ms Sissie Oberon had to talk to a proper person on the wireless, and found that she really didn't want the 'job' after all, and so her son grabbed the microphone and uttered the famous words 'Ok yaaaaah, we're orf down the wine baaaaar, so sucks to you lot, OK'!

This outraged Timmy Flange, who is supposed to be some sort of leader in the little party, he squeaked long and hard at proper people who definitely didn't understand that they were voting for a silly little girl, and not Zonk Silversmith!

But that's politics for you folks!

Who really gives a flying fuck!