I'm Walking Backwards For Christmas.

The visiting list ominously lessens. Presumably my posts have become increasingly boring. Plus I lay awake thinking 'Have I anything else to say.' An empty head, a blank page. Then, hey presto, the snow vanished overnight and the postman reappeared. Plus my new 'machine' arrived. All's well with the world.

Now I'm the world's most 'nontechnical' man. I have no Mobile phone (how on earth do they carry the miles of cable around) and I've only recently mastered the light switch. This technology thing creeps on us, surreptitious, like fog on moorland, and before you now it, you're surrounded, lost and ever crying out for help. Even silly old Grumpy cannot help but get involved.

I have a 'digital voice recorder'. An Olympus DS-50, or is it a 40 or a 30. Old tape recorders had reels and were so big you fell over them in the dark. This DS whatever is so small (fits in a shirt pocket) that I've only just re-found it after twelve months of searching and having bought a replacement. ( I'd put it in a wooden wine box for save keeping.) Senility, tell me about it!

In a rash moment I bought a 'USB Turntable' that will convert my vinyl records to my MP3 player and thence to my Juke box. Or at least it will when my wife (note my wife not me) gets the hang of the 'Audacity Software' 'USB Audio CODEC' and 'additional software lame_enc.dll0'. WHAT ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT!

My new cameras wonderful. A Canon S95, referred to in one revue as the best compact camera in the world. I'm determined to master it but oh boy, don't they assume that everyone in the world is a young wizz kid, IQ of 140 who 'did computers etc' at school as a matter of course. Me, reading, 'riting and 'rithmetic plus learning about the British Empire was my lot. So learning what C, M, AV, Tv, P and AUTO mean doesn't come easy. As for talking about, 'default settings' again WHAT ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT!

The list goes on, you get the message. Then it arrived. My eko-mania paper log maker. Simplicity itself, 'it does what it says on the box.' and it took even me only five minutes to work out how to operate it. Soak newspaper, junk mail etc for a day or two, put it in the 'machine, use some 'elbow grease'. Dry the 'bricks'out, (can take days so best stock up in summer) and 'Bobs your uncle', briquettes for my wood burner, very cheap and environmentally sound I'm assured. Messy, wet, but extremely satisfying; and practice will make perfect. I remember making briquettes from coal and cement in the past, not unlike the way my newest toy works. Hence the title of this post. Briquettes partly made out of cement don't burn too well by the way. But briquette making with Grannie looking on whilst she knitted socks, dish clothes and the odd balaclava (always using grey wool) was a way of life fondly remembered. (I still have the Bakelite ball in which you put wool in my 'museum'.) Does anyone knit nowadays.) I do not yearn for the past but it definitely had its moments.

Do you have memories of 'chores or pastimes' that have long since gone. Have any stayed or perhaps returned. And are there any parts of the past that would enjoy a revival.

Nutty November.Grumpy's Alternative News..

Where shall we start. Now there's supposed to be a recession, so let's talk money.

I notice pencils made from the Mary Rose timbers are for sale at £250 each; The Mary Rose Trust hopes to raise £50,000.

It was recently announced Buckingham Palace spent almost £100,000 cleaning chandeliers in one year and the first personal computer, Apple 1 was sold at Christies for £133,250. A casino owner in Macau bid £211,000 for two white truffles (weight 907 grams) and a rare 1872 stamp fetched £220,000 in an auction in Berlin. (Actually it was only half a stamp as they were in short supply at the time!) A collection of 450 London Transport posters from the 1920/30's fetched £233,000, again at Christies. Almost as much as a fireman fleeced from his workmates in a betting scam in Chelsea. (The actual amount was £250,000). The lyrics written by John Lennon on the back of a bill for £12 were expected to fetch £350,000 (the song was I'm Only Sleeping) and the Walther pistol used by James Bond in From Russia With Love fetched £277,250 at, where else, Christies.

Now for the real money.

A Canadian couple won £6.7 million in a national lottery and promptly gave 98% of it away, to churches and a hospital; nice, kind people, Canadians. And a 14.2 diamond called 'the perfect pink' fetched £15.000,000 in an auction in Christies, this time at their Hong Kong branch. But the sale of the month has to be the 18th century Qianlong-era ceramic vase found in an attic clearance in Ruislip, West London and sold in auction for £51,000,000. (Mind you, even that will be pocket money when the Blackburn Rovers Football Club's sale to Indian owner of 'Venky's Chickens' goes through.. £46,000,000 for starters, but much, much more to follow.) Recession, what recession!

Mind you, money is all right when you've got it. Not so funny for the man from Southend who left £80,000, his life savings in plastic bags on the roof of his car; he says he's 'gutted'. So is the German musician who left a £850,000 violin on a train. In this case he got it back, but he had to be treated by a doctor!

So what else was in the news. Four little animal stories.

Knut the polar bear in Berlin Zoo is suffering. He is being bullied by three females (polar bears, silly!) He now spends most of his time on a rock while the others snap at him and steal his food. Life must be 'unbearable'. Sorry! And again in Berlin Zoo, two male griffon vultures, Detlef and Guido have been forcibly separated and put with females (yes vultures) in the hope that they will mate. Which has upset some of the German community; the gay community to be precise. This has led to protests at the zoo gates. Nothing new in Germany. Five years ago a public petition prevented a pair of gay penguins at Bremerhaven Zoo from being split up.

Apple and Cider, turkeys, have been spared the Thanksgiving dinner table in the annual White House ceremony. Only this year they won't be going to Disneyland like their predecessors. Disneyland don't want any more Christmas turkeys. Shame on you, Disney, what's the world coming to! Not as lucky as three elephants rescued in Assam. Evidently Assam state has a serious elephant smuggling problem, they have lost over ninety in the last five years. I know they fetch over one million rupees, but how do you get a five and a half ton elephant through checkpoints set up to stop the smuggling of contraband?

Four idiots .

The official who decided a lady from Shaftsbury (Canadian passport) must take a citizen test. She has lived here for sixty four years. The surgeon who neglected the post-operative care of patients because he was too busy as chairman of the British Medical Association. Lewis Hamilton, fined for performing 'wheel spins' on a public road in Melbourne. What a role model, what an example to others! Nick Ginetta, car and truck salesman who thinks its clever to give away a free AK 47, the world's most notorious assault rifle with every sale. No wonder the USA has a gun problem.

And three who need closer supervision!

The council of the London Borough of Sutton has spent £3.2 million on its new street log benches. Unfortunately a faulty mechanism causes the benches to roll if anyone sits on them!

And talking of seats, an Indian co-pilot on an international jet flight accidentally knocked the control panel whilst adjusting his seat. He was so flustered he couldn't unlock the cabin door to let the captain, who had gone to the toilet, back in. The plane nosedived for 7000 feet before the captain regained entrance and control. (He had to wrestle the controls from the co-pilot.) At least the man in Berlin accidentally walling himself in his cellar was only in charge of a trowel. He was intending to seal up the cellar entrance but finished the job on the inside. It took him two days to get out.

And a couple of stories with a 'good feel' factor. A fourteen month old toddler fell out of a seventh floor window of a block of flats in Paris. he bounced off a cafe awning into the arms of a waiting doctor. He was unscathed and fell asleep within minutes. Normally the awning would have been retracted, the cafe being closed, but the mechanism wasn't working; a miracle indeed.

Britain's first dating agency for ugly people (theuglybugball.com) is celebrating its first engagement. Tom Clifford and Janice Walker met less than a month ago. Mr Clifford, described as 'Having a face that makes children cry' said, 'She's beautiful and I love her in every possible way.' Everyone say aah.!

Finally my 'Its all in the worst possible taste' section.
I see an Indian company, Gou Brands Private have developed an aftershave made with bovine urine. Plus Gauloka Peya is evidently a sugary soft drink laced with cow urine. They reckon its a threat to pepsi and coca-cola sales. Honest! Interesting place, India. I see they are increasing the pension of elderly eunuchs. Evidently they get a rough time of it when they are old. I see the Soil Association wants to overturn the ban on spreading human sewage on the land. (I remember it well in my youth.) Evidently we are short of phosphates and human sewerage is rich in the stuff. Why dispose of it, what a 'waste'. Sorry again!
Stephen Fry doesn't seem to like the ladies. he 'tweeted' that the only reason women slept with men was that 'sex is the price they are willing to pay for a relationship. Unlike Silvo Berlusconi who seemingly loves the ladies. The press reckons he has some lively parties at his private residences. He denies it of course but his case is not helped when he restores ancient statues in his office. Including one of Mars, now complete with a new penis. For some reason it has been announced the new parts are 'removable'.

The Erotica fair did well at Olympia in London. It seems some of the exhibitors could teach other businesses a thing or two in these austere times. A pair of lady blacksmiths from Wales switched careers making bondage equipment. Apparently a growing market, a 'spanking' good business to be in, one firm making bondage gear previously made bouncy castles!

Finally, finally.

A leading consultant plastic surgeon is being threatened with a libel action after suggesting 'Boob Job' cream, (for sale in John Lewis etc cost £125 for a 100ml pot) is likely to be ineffective. (The claim is for a 8.4% increase). The reason this caught my eye was the incident in a Jersey Co-operative supermarket where a customer was overcharged by £5. Evidently the assistant's seat was too low, causing her breasts to rest on the scales! The shop assistant was apparently mortified. The £5 excess intrigues me; I make no further comment. Feel free to suggest an 'inappropriate' headline!

Sorry!

I attended the Speed Awareness Course recently. (see post dated 23rd October.) Eighteen of us, eleven male, seven female.) Three failed to turn up so they have three points on their licences that could have been avoided. It was held in a large conference centre. We waited in the foyer before the start. Others in various meetings drifted amongst us. I assume some of them knew why we were there. I don't know whether we looked like 'criminals' but we certainly felt so!

Eighteen people, mainly middle aged though the youngest was twenty five. (I think I was the eldest.) All guilty of speeding, not massively so as 'boy racers' seem to attend a different course; but all guilty of breaking the law nevertheless. (Was the psychology of it all the possibility that we at least were 'saveable?) Some, particularly the ladies were quite overawed by it all, showing symptoms of embarrassment, even shame. A show of hands suggested our main reason for attending was to avoid penalty points, note, not necessarily to learn new skills. The course was run by one individual, an ex-policeman, ex-teacher. The course was very intensive, illustrated with visual aids, delivered not without humour and lasted a massive four hours; not an easy proposition for anyone, least of all those whose classroom experience has been non existent for many years.

I think it is fair to say most of us harboured feelings of being hard done by in various degrees. I have received three speeding tickets in ten or so years. The term serial offender springs to mind! I would have previously argued: once on a deserted road at midnight, plus thought it was a forty, not a thirty limit; once outside a deserted school on a Saturday; once on a remote road in the country, never saw a sign. All present, to a greater or lesser degree committed similar offences. In other words, NOBODY DELIBERATELY broke the speed limit.

The value or otherwise of this course can only be measured by two things. What we retain in our minds after the initial 'lectures' are long gone. Plus whether our future driving behaviour, attitude and experience changes. At my age particularly long term retention is not easy. So what is likely to be remembered longest?

One, no road is dangerous in itself, it depends on the behaviour of the people on it.

Two, the speed limit is 30mph unless stated otherwise. (Often the reason for a 30mph limit is a history of accidents etc.)

Three, where speed limits are signed, this is a MAXIMUM speed, not an obligatory speed.

Four, there is no such thing as a 'quiet' road or time, only a 'quieter' time or road.

Five, the main source of serious accidents, often resulting in death is not the motorways as you might have thought. (On motorways no-one might be turning right or overtaking as on urban roads.)

Much of the course concerning types of signs etc I have forgotten only days after the course. And several points are also worth mentioning. Our collective knowledge of the modern highway code was appalling. There is much to be said for everyone attending this course periodically, say every five years; no one could fail to benefit. A hand out of the points covered would have been useful and after all, we did pay seventy pounds each for our 'sins'. Enjoy is the wrong word for this type of experience. I still think authorities don't always get it right concerning limits. (See video of Swarkstone Bridge, a local landmark, limit, maximum 40mph, in my view ridiculously high. Co-incidentally this week there is an ongoing inquest concerning a death on this bridge earlier this year. But remember, and I reiterate, it is a MAXIMUM speed limit, not an obligatory speed we must maintain. ) But the thing that I personally will remember most from the course is this. The damage to a person or person at speeds over 35mph, rather than at 30mph to 35mph was horrifically memorable. I hope no policeman has to knock on a door to tell a mother her child is not coming home due to my driving. The main message from our afternoon together was 'Yes, speed does kill.'

The Times They are A-Changing.

Bob Dylan, 1964. It seems like yesterday. I must confess, for a moment I had to think twice, mixing this song with Mary Hopkin's offering in 1968 (Those Were the Days, my Friend.) So what brought on this nostalgic post, this urge to reminisce. It was indirectly the result of our recent Blackpool extravaganza, the rush of blood and my subsequent dizziness as the wife spent my hard earned kudos. Now my wife is a fairly 'with it' modern lady, well versed in the main concerning today's fashions; the result of having daughters rather than sons. Daughters, expensive family attachments at times, but useful advisers as to what is and is not 'in', so to speak. Consequently my wife is usually more 'wag lady' than 'bag lady'. (Though Charity Shop coat bargains are seldom passed by, consequently she has more coats than Marks and Spencer's.) All of which brought to mind life in my younger days, and particularly what my grandmother and many people like her wore at roughly the same age as my wife is today.

I have fond memories of my grandmother. Born in the 1870's, widowed in the 1930's, a mere four feet ten inches tall, she nevertheless dominated our family with her very presence. Wise beyond words, God fearing, chapel going, she raised eight children, a hard working class existence typical of many. I remember her well in the late forties, fifties, sixties and seventies, a frugal, uncomplicated individual, dispensing home made sweets and kind words in equal measure. There is much I have written elsewhere concerning Granny Hudston. (See post dated 23rd April 2008 Anyone Out There.) Although the photograph in the picture shows Granny Hudston in her 'Sunday best' it is typical of an era not over impressed or influenced by the fashion industry. (For many reasons, including financial restraints, the unavailability of 'fashionable' clothes and no pressure from media advertising.) Fast forward to the photograph of my wife, November 2010. God bless her! Any comments concerning your own or families 'fashion statements' of your past youth welcome. And just to prove the point, 'My how time flies,' 'Those Were the Days, My friend' and 'The Time's they are A-Changing', my wedding photo and the dress worn by my grandmother on her wedding day. The whole thing is surreal. My grandmother is part of my almost recent past. At least in my eyes, not someone from times long, long gone. Except that to my children, and my children's children, I am probably reminiscent of a far distant era, perish the thought. So we all get old together. But, as Maurice Chevalier said, 'Old age isn't so bad when you consider the alternative.' And Red Skelton can have the last word. 'I don't let old age bother me. There are three signs of old age. Loss of memory...I forget the other two...'

Deja vu, Deja vu, Deja vu.

I hadn't reckoned on writing this post. I have, through other commitments, got in the habit of writing only every five or six days. Then granddaughter Angelina forgot to take her coat to school and who gets a phone call, granddad of course! She regularly forgets things, Angelina, mother calls it her Stevens gene. So off we, my wife and I drive, plus coat to the school three miles away. What, after all are granddads for!

We took the opportunity to call in the local Tesco in Mickleover. It was a bitterly cold morning, dark, gloomy and raining. At the roadside outside, near the entrance stood a 'Big Issue' seller; a middle aged lady, perhaps younger due to life's stresses. I approached her and explained, somewhat apologetically, I had bought one near Blackpool very recently from a Romanian gentleman. The ladies English was very limited, but she recognised the name Blackpool. 'Ah,' she said, quite excited, 'he my brother.' Evidently she had travelled from Birmingham to stand in Derby's rain.

I suggested she stand under cover. 'No, she replied, 'it private.'

We communicated as best we could, I shook her hand and went in the shop.

I sought out a staff member and asked was it necessary for the lady outside to stand in the rain. If not allowed in the shop, a covered area nearby would have been a drier, if not warmer alternative. The young staff member was sympathetic and directed me to Customer Services. I found the required counter and asked if it was possible to speak to a duty manager concerning the lady outside. And boy, did 'officialdom' kick in. No, I couldn't, and no the person outside shouldn't be there. Evidently Tesco issue some sort of permit, she hadn't got one and that was that.

I felt ashamed to be British. You missed the point completely. Rules, regulations, so what. People matter more, all people.That the store is full of Christmas merchandise, tough. That the person was cold and wet, 'hard cheese', presumably Romanian street sellers have neither rights nor feelings.

I was amazed at the response in someone comparatively young. The lack of concern for others who, though low in the pecking order of British life, are still human beings; what have we become.

Are such people so enveloped in the Tesco culture of profit and dominance that they have lost sight of basic decencies. Tesco, please don't shout from the rooftops all you do for communities. There's always an ultimate motive. If you want to be loved, instill in all, not just some of your staff GENUINE compassion, not a superficial 'Be polite to customers and that will do' syndrome.

I was angry, shocked, saddened, you name it. And whilst I was having my 'difference of opinion' with 'officialdom' an interesting thing happened. A well dressed lady customer heard my vehement protest and decided to add her 'halfpennyworth'.

'They shouldn't be here' she stated emphatically. 'You should fetch the police and move her on.'

Ignorance personified.

'There you are,' said Customers Services' triumphantly, not all OUR customers agree with you.'

Have they no idea as to how the Big Issue system works. Happy Christmas, ladies. Mind you, I reckon Mickleover, mainly affluent Mickleover always was a 'fur coat and no knickers' sort of place. I asked for Tesco's head office number and walked off, definitely not amused.

I left the place fifteen minutes later. The rain continued to howl down. Outside my Romanian friend was still there. And lo and behold, the Lord had partly answered my prayer. No, the place was still standing and no-one had been struck dead. But the Romanian lady now sported a brightly coloured umbrella. I smiled and pointed to the umbrella.

'From inside' she said, 'I have to take back.'

We talked again briefly, I gave her a pound coin, she gave me her blessing and I went on my way.

Someone had had second thoughts after my little 'discussion'. I trust it was for compassionate reasons and not to 'cover their back' in case I rang head office. I shan't do so, I cannot see it achieving anything, sadly. I am sorry for returning to the subject of this post in a way. But the incident caused me great anxiety during the night. All you people out there, what do you think?

Diaries, of the Famous and a Nobody.

'Time flies'. Trite but true. I am struck as to how much we forget of the past, yet can recall even the tiniest of 'happenings' with a little help. I honestly believe it all still there, in the mind, awaiting recall. I am not clever enough to know what happens to our memories when we die. What I do know is that keeping a diary, on paper or whatever means it is there for all to see and read. If you are famous or important your words will be there almost for ever. And if you are a nobody, as most of us are, who knows.

Samuel Pepys

15th November 1661

At home all the morning, and at noon with my wife to the Wardrobe to dinner, and there did shew herself to my Lady in the handkercher that she bought the lace for the other day, and indeed it is very handsome. Here I left my wife and went to my Lord Privy Seal to Whitehall, and there did give him a copy of the Fees of the office as I have received them, and he was well pleased with it.

So to the Opera, where I met my wife and Captain Ferrers and Madamoiselle Le Blanc, and there did see the second part of 'The Seige of Rhodes' very well done; and so by coach set her home, and the coach driving down the hill through Thames Street, which I think never any coach did before from that place to the bridge-foot, but going up Fish Street Hill his horses were so tired, that they could not be got to go up the hill, though all the street boys and men did whip and beat them. At last I was fain to send my boy for a link, and so 'light out of the coach till we got to another at the corner of Fenchurch Street, and so to home, and to bed.

November 16th 1661

At the office all the morning. Dined at home, and so about my business in the afternoon to the Temple, where I found my Chancery bill drawn against T. Trice, which I read and like it, and so home.

Ken Stevens

November 15th 1985

It is suddenly realised that a mouse is in residence at the back of the gas fire. Alison, Sarah and Angela spend much time setting elaborate traps of empty boxes and cheese which he skillfully avoids. He (or she) appears during the evening on at least half a dozen occasions, seemingly unconcerned by our presence. At one stage he licked a sweet paper within one foot of a handheld torch. He is obviously very young and has become 'tame' to a degree, presumably having yet to be aware of the dangers the world holds.

November 16th 1985

Garford visits with his new bride, Tahira. Buster insists on making his presence felt by sitting almost on top of her on the settee. Tahiri is Malawi born, very shy and far from at ease with dogs. (Buster was a large English bull terrier) She has also never seen any dog even similar to Buster previously. add to her apprehension and discomfort the fact that our mouse 'lodger' appears several times during her stay and I suspect she probably thinks she has entered the proverbial 'madhouse'.

Helping the North West's Economy and a bit of Deja Vu.

My wife and I (Now doesn't that sound regal!) have recently spent a delightful three nights on the streets of St Annes. (In our motorhome, not literally on the streets!) The weather was horrific; it rained, the wind blew and it wasn't exactly hot but who cares. We visited my daughter, son in law and grand-daughter, we shopped, people watched and a good time was had by all.

We, motorhomers are none too popular in this corner of the north west. Parking on the streets mean we have no hotel costs, which no doubt galls the hotel trade. Possibly the reason there is a profusion of signs in Blackpool in particular reading simply 'cars only'. And it's getting noticeably worse. A pity as my wife tried to boost the local economy on our visit, and I wasn't too far behind. So what did we spend.

For a start there were pubs meals in Wetherspoons: my two sausages, two bacon, four slices of toast, two eggs, a slice of black pudding and a tomato, £3.99; brilliant. Plus numerous cups of coffee and tea. Then there's the gluten free food (my wife's a Coeliac.) Biscuits, cakes, even gluten free liquorish sticks. A petticoat from Fleetwood Market (my wife's purchase, honest!) and posh leggings plus a bright red handbag bought in Blackpool. (My wife again, silly!) Chocolate bargains and other sweets from Freeport. A red coat (no other colour considered) from a charity shop and some serious spending in between; a seven piece bed set, not cheap but well worth the price. Oh, and a fur hat each, very fashionable for 'geriatrics' and worn at Derby County versus Portsmouth FC!

My wife's the main spender in our house, but I didn't do so bad either. An Elvis musical figurine purchased will take pride of place in my 'bar'. (Plays a non too musical version of Love Me Tender') and I couldn't resist the cruets imprinted with pictures of Cliff, Elvis and the Beatles. To complete the 'spending spree, books from my favourite charity shop, Barnado's in Lytham, price five for £1.99. (A Spread of Over 40's Jokes; A Handbook for All Word Puzzling; a book on Crime and Detection; The A-Z of Behaving Badly and Britain Land of Contrasts. Add fuel before returning home and I reckon there's £2oo plus gone into the north west economy; recession, what recession! Please think twice, north west councils, there's a lot of us and plenty of places that would welcome our 'dosh'.

And so to the deja vu. (See post dated 23rd April 2008). We spent the last hour of our short visit in St Annes. Hurrying back to our rather expensive motorhome we espied outside B and M a somewhat forlorn seller of 'The Big Issue'. I did the usual, avoided eye contact and hurried past. The wind was blowing, it was cold, my pockets were nearly empty and I needed the warmth of my 'motor'. And so to home, back to my comfort zone, a smashing break, but its home where we're happiest. Except that I retraced my steps before I left St Annes, had a chat with the young man outside B and M and bought a Big Issue. Evidently he was Romanian, selling the Big Issue with quiet dignity to keep body and soul together in a foreign, not always hospitable country. I am not interested in the arguments concerning immigration issues and the rights and wrongs of 'our country'. All I know he was a pleasant, dignified young man. I was glad, for whatever reasons I had returned and purchased one of his papers.