masher dot tv

One man. One life. No idea.

A Good Night Out

Drop The Dead Donkey was a satirical comedy show, shown on Channel 4 back in the nineties.

Though it wasn’t an avid watch for me, I generally enjoyed it, if I happened to stumble across it whilst channel surfing.

So, when Mrs M suggested we go see it at the theatre, I thought “Why not? Let’s give it a go”.

With the same cast (mostly) and written by the same scriptwriters, it should be a good show.

And, it was… alright.

I didn’t find it as funny as I’d hoped and some of the more topical news jokes felt like they’d been crowbarred in.

But it was… OK.

It didn’t help that the audio was bit echo-ey (to my ears) and I struggled to hear some parts of the dialogue.

Similarly, due to the way the set was designed, our favourite seats didn’t afford us a full view of the stage.

But, overall it was… OK.

However, our night out at the theatre was enhanced by Mrs M sneakily upgrading our package. This allowed us access to the lounge area, where we had our own attendant who waited on us and supplied drinks and nibbles. No hanging around outside and queueing with the proletariat for us! And during the interval, we headed back to the lounge to find ice cream and beer already waiting for us at our reserved table.

Very nice.

Mrs M enjoyed the experience so much, I have a feeling it might become a regular thing.

Horizons

Last night, I dragged the current Mrs M along to a lecture talk on cosmology given by Professor Brian Cox.

To be fair, she came willingly. “You never know, I might enjoy it”, she said.

It started with lots of pretty pictures of stars and galaxies and over the next ninety minutes he went on to explain formation and expansion of the universe, ending on black hole singularities and event horizons, even using some ‘simple’ maths to explain black hole temperatures and Hawking Radiation.

It was fascinating.

Mrs M held up surprisingly well and found much of it very interesting, but I thnk that by the time we had reached Einstein’s General Theory, time in the theatre was moving somewhat slower for her than it was for me.

Relatively, of course.

Bike

My bike insurance is due this month and my insurance company – with whom I have been fora few years now – have just sent me the renewal premium.

It has gone up from £146 to £255.  An increase of seventy-five percent!

Yes… 75%  !!

I’ve not made any claim in the last year.

I’ve not even contacted them –  at all – in the past 12 months.

And yet they have hiked it up considerably.

And it makes me laugh how, on the letter, it says I can ‘relax’ because they will take the payment from my bank account automatically.

Like fuck, will they!

When the time comes to renew in a couple of weeks, I shall  compare some meercats and will undoubtably secure a better deal with another company.

I will then phone my existing insurer to cancel my policy with them and the conversation will go like this, as it always does:

“I’d like to cancel my policy, please.”

Sorry to hear that. Can I ask why?”

“Yes. I’ve just received my renewal premium and you have increased it by 75%… for no reason.”

Unfortunately the cost of insurance is rising throughout the whole sector.  But, let’s see if I can get it any better for you.

There will be a minute of silence whilst he taps away at his computer and then “OK, I think this is better. How does a hundred and sixty pounds sound?

“That does sound much better.”

Cool. I’ll just make the changes so you are only charged the new premi...”

“No. I want to cancel, please.”

Oh. Is this price not acceptable to you?

“Yes. But I have already gone with someone else. Maybe if you’d offered me that price in the first place, I wouldn’t have looked elsewhere.”

What if I throw in free legal assistance?

“No.”

Insurance companies will always do whatever they can to avoid paying out in the event of a claim, so I’m not going to give them any more than I have to.

And, with the abundance of Price Comparison websites available to us nowadays, taking your custom elsewhere to get a better deal has never been easier.

Car

Yesterday, I took the day off and took a drive over to that Swansea.

That’s a long and boring journey, I can tell you.

Took us over fours to get there (with a pitstop halfway) and similar to get back.

The reason for my visit to Taffyland?  To buy a car.

Not for me, but for Son.

Due to the extortionate insurance costs for someone his age (and gender) he’s limited to what he can afford to buy.

The make and model of car that he was looking at came in a 59 BHP version. That puts it in a Group 1 insurance category – the cheapest (although we are still looking at a couple of grand there). The next level up was 94 BHP, which puts it way up into Group 9… adding almost a thousand pounds to the premium!

Obviously, for this reason, Group 1 cars are very popular with new drivers and when a secondhand one goes on sale, it gets snapped up pretty quickly. We missed several opportunities.

So, when this one came up, we immediately slapped a 24hr reserve on it and hightailed it down the M4.

Took it for a test drive. Liked it. Bought it.

It’s a little bit more expensive than what he was looking for, but it’s low mileage and in almost-new condition.

Hopefully, it should last him a good few years.

And one for luck.

OK, another month over.

Another Blog-a-thon over.

As in previous years, this started off as a quite difficult challenge, which got easier as time went on.  I found that writing the posts became easier, the more I did it.

Which is what you’d expect.

And it’s also the reason why I started doing this stupid annual challenge, all those years ago. Eighteen years ago!

The biggest problem – as ever – is not in the writing of the post, but in the subject… trying to think of what to write. It has to be something that is interesting enough fto read.

Ideally for both of you.

Anyway, I’d like to once again thank our Welsh correspondant, Mr Jones, for keeping me company throughout the month, as his daily contributions gave ME something to read.

And thanks to those of you who took the time to not only read my ramblings, but also to comment on them.

Same time next year?

Bonkers Bunkers

In the amateur radio world, there are a group of people who like to operate portable from places of interest and see how many contacts they can make from that location.

And when I say ‘group’ I mean thousands. It’s a very popular activity within the hobby.

I’ve not tried it myself… yet.

One of the most popular places to operate from (we call it ‘activate’) is the top of a very high hill or mountain.  This is called SOTA, an acronym for Summits On The Air.   SOTA activations can be very rewarding: that extra height above sea level can really aid long-distance communications.  Of course, the challenge is in lugging all your equipment up a mountain. No mean feat in some cases.

But, not everyone can do SOTA, due to age or physical impairments, so other OTAs have sprung up over the years: POTA – Parks On The Air; WOTA – Windmills; and a recent one that has come to my attention BOTA – Bunkers.

This last one is aimed at operating from the 2,000 or so bunkers across the country, that were built for the Royal Observer Corps during WWII.

Looking on the website that has been set up to facilitate this activity, I noticed that there is a bunker in Luton and so I decided to go and take a look, as it was at a location that I’ve often walked with the dog and I’d never seen any bunker there.

With the aid of What3Words though, I found it quite easily, hidden in a small clump of trees and bushes that I must have walked past many times.. Or, at least I found the entrance to the bunker – how far underground it went, I don’t know.  The brick entrance has been fitted with an iron gate to prevent local herberts getting in there and the exposed brickwork around it is covered in graffiti.

With my interest piqued, I then did a bit of looking around the internets and I happened across this video, which shows a large bunker in town… nothing to do with the ROC.

From watching the video, I’m pretty sure I have figured out where that manhole cover is, but I’m not sure I’d be able to get down it… not with my forearms. The main entrance (or one of the main entrances) is just a few feet away, by the looks of it, but has been paved over.  Again, I have walked down that road many times, with no knowledge of what was beneath my feet.

Amazing.

Stamp It Out

You’d probably not be surprised to learn that when I was a kid, I had a stamp collection.

Yup, pretty nerdy, even back then.

It wasn’t a particularly impressive collection, but I had a proper stamp collecting album and I used to save up my pocket money and send off for little packets of stamps from Stanley Gibbons.

They were nothing fancy, just random stamps from around the world and I would spend hours sticking them into the album, using stamp hinges.

For some reason, the packets that Mr Gibbons sent me, often contained several Hungarian stamps. “Magya Posta”, I remember being printed on them. I ended up with far too many Hungarian stamps, but had no-one with whom to swap. That was the problem with being the only nerd in the village.

I don’t know what happened to my stamp collection… probably ended up at the tip.

But, I have started collecting again… with a difference.

Every so often, Royal Mail release a set of stamps to commemorate something or other. And, if it’s something I am interested in, I’ll buy them.

No faffing about with stamp hinges now though. These commemoration stamps come in a small presentation pack which folds neatly, to fit into a see-through plastic wallet.  Unfolded, there is usually a whole lot of blurb about whichever subject the stamps are celebrating.

Royal Mail also produce a nice imitation leather (plastic) binder with which to display your collection.

Although I’ve been collecting them for a few years, I haven’t bought that many – for instance, last year they brought out a set to commemorate the Spice Girls.

I didn’t buy those.

But I do have: Doctor Who; Star Trek; Dad’s Army; Only Fools & Horses; James Bond; Marvel; Thunderbirds and Captain Scarlet; Black Adder; Paddington Bear and a lovely set depicting Weather Forecasting throughout the ages.

Oh, and a set of Penny Blacks, Reds and Blues… which would be worth a fortune, if they weren’t replicas.

Popeye

I was trying to carry my son’s big, heavy gaming chair out of his room, at the weekend, so I could give the carpet a good hoovering, when I caught my forearm on the strike plate on the door frame.

Ouch! It hurt.

There was blood.

A bit.

And I’ll probably have a scar, which is cool, as chicks dig scars… apparently.

And this reminds me of a few years ago at a works (pre-Covid) Christmas party, I was strutting my stuff on the dancefloor (encouraged by several pints of wife-beater), when I noticed a gaggle of girls from the planning department looking at me and laughing.

I sidled my way over to where they were sitting, to see what all the merriment was about.

They told me that they were building their perfect man, using bits from all the available men in the room and that I had made the shortlist.

Obviously, I was quite pleased to hear this, but was intrigued as to which of my many, many fantastic attributes had made the grade.

Was it my Travolta-like dancing skills, I wondered?

Or was it my strong, square jawline, reminiscent of a young Marlon Brando?

Perhaps it was my six-pack torso which, admitedly, can nowadays be better likened to a Watney’s Red Barrel.

No.

Apparently, it was my forearms. They really liked my forearms.

Now, it’s not the first time I have been complimented on these particular appendages. Some years ago, when I was so much younger and fitter, a fitness trainer at the gym remarked that I had forearms … “like Popeye”.

I think it was a compliment.

Anyway, the girls refused to tell me who else in the room was on the list, but you know what… forearms…?  Yeah, I’ll take that.

Tribute

Yesterday, Mrs M and Daughter went to see Whitney Houston.

Not the real one, of course, because she’s dead.

No, they went to see a tribute act.

Strange things, tribute acts. I’ve never quite understood why anyone would pay good money to go and see someone who isn’t as good as the real thing. If you are a big fan of something/someone, why would you go to see something that isn’t as good?

I used to be a big fan of the rock group Queen. I have all their albums and I have seen them live in concert a couple of times.

But I don’t think I would ever dream of going to see a band that were performing Queen songs – but who didn’t look or sound as good as Queen.

I’d feel let down.

Mrs M and Daughter arrived home earlier than expected. “You’re home earlier than I expected”, I said.

“We left half way through”, said Mrs M, “she was murdering those songs!”

QED

Evil Tiny Missives

Yesterday, Mrs M and I went to the pictures to see Wicked Little Letters.

With Timothy Spall, Jessie Buckley and the wonderful Olivia Coleman in the lead roles, the film tells the true story of the town of Littlehampton, just after the first World War and the scandal that arose from someone sending obscene correspondence to the townsfolk.

Quite possibly, the first example of what we now consider to be trolling, when it is done online.

Apparently, at the time, the tale of these unwanted letters gripped the nation.

It didn’t grip Mrs Masher though.  The story was thin, with a weak plot and a fairly obvious twist, which has probably led to the mediocre ratings given by many critics.

But, like most of the – somewhat aged -audience in our matinee showing, I found it quite enjoyable.  Coleman, Spall and Buckley give terrific performances and I found it genuinely very funny in parts.

It was a bit of a departure for us to watch a film like that, actually. There were no car chases; fights; guns or helicopters. No points where the action was loud enough for me to guzzle gallons of cola and shove handfuls of popcorn down my gullet, as is usual for us on a trip to the cinema.

It was a gentle film –  with lots of swearing – which I enjoyed watching with a cup of tea and an iced bun.

“Up The Arse!”

I’ve never been much of a football fan.

Yes, I’ll watch the big England games, but that’s pretty much it, but even then, I’ll usually only watch it if it is a BIG game.

Years ago, when the guys  used to come in to the office on a Monday morning and for the first half an hour the only topic of conversation was the weekend’s footie activity, I used to feel a bit left out.

“You were lucky at the weekend, weren’t you?” they’d say to each other. Or “We wuz robbed… no way was that a penalty”.   I didn’t know what they were talking about, so I couldn’t get involved with the banter.  I mentioned this to Coops.

“You need to pick a team and follow them”, he said.

“OK, who’s at the top at the moment?”

“Arsenal”

“Right, I’ll follow them, then”

And I did, but still not enough to actually have a conversation with anyone about it.

I never went to any of their games and I never watched them on the telly… apart from a couple of times in FA Cup Finals (I think).

And I still ‘follow’ them to this day.

If you were to question me on the team, I’d be able to tell you that they are doing quite well at the moment (2nd in the league at the time of writing).

I could also tell you the manager’s name – Mikel Arteta – and the name one of the players… Something Saka. I think.

But, honestly, that’s it.

Most of the time, I can’t tell you where, if or who they are playing or whether they won, lost or drew their last game.

They’re probably playing today, but I couldn’t tell you who or where.

Anyway, it’s The Beautiful Game.

Apparently.

Keep On Running

Back in 2014, Mike over at Troubled Diva did a bit of a survey into who had the longest-running blogs on the Internet, in the UK.

I was pleased to make it into the top 20, having started my blog (I think they were still called Weblogs back then) way back in 2001.

Blogging platforms that are in abundance nowadays, were scarce back then. Blogger was in it’s infancy and Matt Mullenweg hadn’t yet invented WordPress, so I built the pages with Microsoft Frontpage.  All the clever kids were using Dreamweaver, but I just couldn’t get the hang of it.

Adding photos was time consuming and being able to leave comments wasn’t something, I knew how to do, so the pages were pretty bland to start with.

I switched to using Blogger in about 2002, but hosted on my own (paid for) server with my own (paid for) domain, rather than the freebie that Blogger was offering.

In November 2006 I sold my .co.uk domain to the BBC for a tidy sum, purchased masher.tv and switched to WordPress.

Incidentally, it was in February 2006 that I started this annual blogathon rubbish.

Nothing much has changed since.

Anyway, I got to wondering whether – ten years on – many of those bloggers of old, were still posting.

It seems a mixed bag.

A couple of people have just stopped completely.

A couple more blogs seem to have evolved into something less whimsical and more commercial.

But a few are still going strong.

And I like to count myself amongst them. Yes, there has been the occasional hiatus, where a lack of time, inclination or inspiration have left the blog stagnant for a period, but I don’t think that’s ever been for more than a month or so. And yes, I’m annoyed at having lost so many of my archives – bad management on my part when changing hosting companies several times over the years.

But, I am still here and I am still blogging.

And so, with all that, I reckon I must have moved up the Longest UK Blogger ladder.

I might even be in the Top 10 now.

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