People

Another Smelling Pistake

/ masher / 2 Comments

It’s that time of year when all the bluebells come out and the woods look absolutely gorgeous… for just a few weeks, before they all die off and then disappear for another year.

Our local woods – where I walk the dog – always look spectacular… as can be seen in the photo above, that I took yesterday evening.

The rangers have been round, sticking signs on all the entrances to the woods, to encourage people to stick to the main patsh, so as not to trample on the flowers.  No problem there: I always stick to the main patsh… can’t say the same for the dog, though: she’s on the patsh, off the patsh… sometimes she makes her own patsh.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: if your professional job is in producing signs and signwriting, you should – at the very least – be able to spell and proof-read.

Surely?

Saints Alive

/ masher / 4 Comments

Every year, Paddy’s Day (or Saint Patrick’s Day, to give its proper name) provides an excuse for hundreds of thousands of Irishmen to get off their tits, drinking large amounts of alcohol and indulging in all sorts of drunken revelry.

Of course, it’s well known that the Irish know how to party. For them, it’s all about the ‘craic’.  Apparently. Getting together and drinking as much Guinness and Caffrey’s (God, I love Caffrey’s) as they can; dressing up as leprechauns and jumping in the Liffey (if one happens to be celebrating in Dublin).   Parades fill the streets and the festivities have been known to go on for several days, in some places. Wearing green is – I think – the law, on Paddy’s Day.

But what about the other saints?  Are they celebrated in the same way? What about Saint George, who had his own significant day only yesterday?  For some reason, good ol’ Saint George doesn’t seem to be revered in quite the same vein as Saint Patrick.  And yet, he killed a fucking dragon, for chris’sake.

To go someway toward remedying this situation, my old BT pals and I had a gathering down at our local ‘spoons last night.  Our glasses charged with various English ales, I proposed a toast to Saint George. “To Saint George!” everyone chorused, raising their glasses in the air.

And then we got back to our various topics of conversation – in the main, who had had the biggest operation on their prostate.

I think the English craic and the Irish craig are very different beasts.

Stoned

/ masher / 6 Comments

Back when I was a kid, Bill and Ben, the Flowerpot Men liked Little Weed.

And today, it seems that just about everybody does.

It’s impossible to go out for a walk with the dog and not catch a whiff of it at some point. Groups of youngsters on park benches are the biggest culprits.  Whenever we walk past, there is always a sickly sweet smell hanging in the air around them… and it’s not Lynx Africa.

A chap walked past me last night on the footpath and as soon as he had gone by, a pungent, sweet, minty aroma hit me full in the face.

To be fair, it’s not as bad as getting a facefull of fag smoke, but nonetheless, it’s not to my liking.

Of course, I say ‘weed’, but I’m not really sure what that even is. Cannabis? Marajuana? Skunk? Ganja (is that the same thing?)? I suppose I could look it up, but I can’t be bothered.

I’ve never been interested in – or dabbled with – drugs, any drugs… apart from that one wild time in my youth, when I tried some Junior Disprin.

I don’t understand why these people want to walk around stoned all the time… what’s the attraction?

And this morning, as I was taking the dog on her daily drag along the meadow, I found a small blue pot laying in the grass (pot… grass… you can see where this is going). I picked it up and had a look inside. That’s it in the photo.

Inside was a small plastic bag containing what was undoubtably weed. Out of interest, I weighed it: quarter of an ounce.  Now, I know from watching the brilliant Ideal on iPlayer, that this stuff is sold in quarters, eighths and sixteenths, but I have no idea what it actually costs.

But I bet that someone out there is kicking themselves for having lost it.

They can come and collect it from me if they like… it’s in my rubbish bin.

Flashmob

/ masher / 5 Comments

Flashmobs were all the rage some years ago, but you don’t see so many of them nowadays. Another fleeting fad, maybe.

But it’s a fad that I quite enjoyed… whilst it lasted.

Much to my annoyance, I’ve never been in a flashmob. There’s a good reason for this: all the ones I have seen, involve having the ability to dance, or to sing, or to play a musical instrument. I am sadly lacking in every single one of those departments.

And, I’ve never even seen one, which again, is quite annoying.

There are plenty to watch on that YouTube thing though and I’ve enjoyed most of them, I think.

But this is my new favourite.

Should I ever get married again, this is definitely happening.

A Life On The Ocean Waves

/ masher / 4 Comments

We went on a trip out, yesterday.

On a speedboat.

It was a lot of fun.

We visited some of the surrounding islands and did some snorkeling.  We went inland, up  river, to see a waterfall and to feed some wild monkeys which was fun.  Then we had a BBQ lunch on a small beach on one of the islands. And on the way back, we saw some dolphins.  Which was nice.

Of course, the problem with being out at sea and going snorkeling, is that despite applying copious amounts of sun cream, you are going to catch the sun.  Or rather, the sun is going to catch you!  We both have faces the colour of lobsters and my head is very sore.  The copious amounts of rum punch that they plied us with, probably didn’t help 😊

Today will be spent in the shade, as much as possible. In fact the weather forecast suggests a big storm is coming… which will be cool: I love a tropical storm!

Parking Idiots

/ masher / 6 Comments

I do my grocery shopping as early as I can on a Saturday morning: 1. To make sure I get a parking space and 2. To get there before they sell out of toasted tea cakes.

On point 1: I always try to park considerately.  If I get out of the car and find that it isn’t square in the bay or the back end is hanging over the line, I’ll get back in the car and correct it. This makes it easier for those parking next to me and allows the maximum amount of room each side for people to open their car doors without hitting mine.

Sadly though, some people just don’t seem to care about such things and will just park their car at whatever jaunty angle takes the least amount of effort.  And, if their door hits the car next to them, so be it. Can’t be helped.

Which is why I found yet another dink in my door this week, when I cleaned the car.

I’ve tried parking away from everyone else abut this still happens.

People just seem to want to park next to me, for some reason.

When I went to the National Archives a few weeks back, I parked in a retail park just a few minutes walk away, as the parking was free for up to 4 hours.  Although there were plenty of spaces available, I parked right at the far end, well away from everyone else, in a row of bays that were completely empty.

When I returned about an hour or so later, I found that someone had parked right next to me – as can be seen in the picture above (my car is the blue one).

All those empty bays and he/she chooses to park as close as possible to me.

Maybe my car is just particularly attractive.

Recommendations

/ masher / 6 Comments

A couple of days ago, I moved some money out of one of my savings accounts and into my current account.

As both accounts are with the same bank, this was a very quick and easy thing to do, taking less than two minutes from start to finish. An ‘everyday’ transaction, I would imagine.

So, I was surprised when yesterday, I got an email from the bank, asking me to take part in a survey regarding my recent transaction.  As I had nothing better to do for five minutes, I clicked on the link and was taken to a page which asked all the usual stuff: Male/Female/Other; Age, etc.  And then it asked me to rate on a scale of 1 to 10, how easy it was to make the transaction.

I gave it a 9 (I’m like Craig Revel Horwood when it comes to giving out 10’s).

The next question caused me to just give up on the survey and close it:  Based On Your Recent Money Transfer, How Likely Are You To Recommend Us To Friends And Family?

WTF?

I cannot imagine a single scenario, where a friend – or family member – tells me about a problem they had transferring some money at their bank and I say to them “Oh, you should try HSBC… they’re very good at transferring money between their internal accounts. I scored them 9 out of 10, y’know.”.

This sort of question appears on so many surveys and every time I just back out of it, because I no longer recommend anything to anyone.

This is partly because, some years ago, a neighbour was having problems with their internet connectivity. I looked at it for them and deduced that their broadband provider was the issue.  I recommended that they switch to Virgin Media, which they did.

All was well for a while and they were well chuffed, but then they started having problems. Big problems, both with their connectivity and with their billing. It went on for months and it caused them a lot of grief and they  told me that they wished they had never signed up.

At that point, I wished I’d never told them to.

I felt bad, even though I had suggested it to them in good faith.  I was a VM customer for 25 years or more and I never had a single issue or problem with them.

But maybe not everyone is so lucky.

So now, I don’t recommend anyone, or any service, to anybody.

Frugality Seems To Be The Hardest Word

/ masher / 7 Comments

It’s oft said, that two can live as cheaply as one, and I’m sure that has a ring of truth to it.

But only where Two and One share a common view on saving money, surely?  And is that common view prevalent amongst most couples?  I don’t really know, but, let’s take a look at Masher Towers – as an example – to see if this phrase applies there.

One is often trying to save water. Not just because of the cost, but also because One has worked in the water industry and understands what a precious and finite resource it actually is.  Limiting showers to 4 minutes and turning the tap off during teeth brushing are 2 well known water-saving devices that One employs on a daily basis.  Two, on the other hand, doesn’t give a toss about such things and likes to luxuriate in a bath full of hot water, several times a week.

Two is a cold morsel, who will sit on the sofa, wearing a fleece and a dressing gown, shivering and complaining about how ‘bloody freezing’ they are, whilst One sits next to them, sweating in a T-shirt because the central heating has had to be cranked up yet another couple of degrees.

One does the grocery shopping, because, when Two does it, the fridge ends up stuffed to the gills with more food than One and Two can actually eat in 7 days, and so, much of it goes in the bin at the end of the week… much to One’s annoyance.

So, it seems, in this household at least, Two cannot live as cheaply as One.

Not even close.

Draining

/ masher / 4 Comments

In the road outside our house, is a drain.  Nothing exciting there, I know.

About ten years ago, some pikeys nicked it. Well, they nicked the grate. It was a good solid grate and probably worth a fair bit of money down at the dodgy scrap metal merchants.

I returned from work, that evening, to find a hole in front of the drive.

I reported it to the council and they said that there had been a spate of them in the area, but that they would fix it as soon as they were able.  Sure enough, within a couple of days, I returned home to find a nice new drain grate had been fitted.

I was a little disappointed though. This grate wasn’t as hefty as the previous one and it hadn’t been fitted flush to the road surface. It was about an inch below. And they hadn’t made a particularly good job of concreting it in. All in all, it was a bit shoddy.

Due to the drain’s location, when driving on and off my drive it’s pretty impossible not to drive the wheels over the drain and, now that there was a bit of a drop, it meant that the weight of the car dropping on top of it just pushed the drain down further and further through the shoddy concrete, until it was a good few inches down.

Consequently, the drain has never been cleaned out by that big tanker thing that comes up the road with a giant hoover attachment, because they have never been able to get it open, jammed into the concrete as it is.

I’m sure they must have reported it back to the council and I myself have reported it several times, but nothing ever happens. Sometimes, someone comes out and looks at it, sprays some orange paint around it and then buggers off.  The paint eventually fades away and the following year someone comes out and paints around it again.

Well, it was a lovely bright day, yesterday, and so I cleaned the car. When I went to pour the dirty bucket of water down the drain, I noticed that there was barely any drain visible, as the grate was completely clogged up with leaves and detritus. I got a mahoosive screwdriver and a hefty brush and I spent ten minutes cleaning everything away. I was quite pleased with my handiwork, as it looked so much better with all the crud removed and it also meant that if it rained, water could actually flow into the drain, as it was supposed to. It was now functional again.

And then, this morning, two flat-bed trucks sporting orange flashing lights pulled up outside the house and four blokes got out, dug up the road and replaced the drain.

If I’d known that to get it replaced all I had to do was clean the bloody thing, I’d have done so years ago!

Radio Ga Ga

/ masher / 8 Comments

I spent several hours last night, camped out in my car atop Dunstable Downs… the highest point in Bedfordshire.

An Amateur Radio contest happens at the beginning of each month and I am taking part.  As we are operating at VHF frequencies, the higher we can get the aerial, the better.

So, armed with my radio and homemade aerial (constructed from some plastic piping and an old clothes horse that I cut up) and a flask of coffee, I made my way to what I hoped would be my regular parking spot, just outside the car park barriers.

There are several car parks up there and at night they drop the barriers across the entrances. However, there is generally room to squeeze a few vehicles in.

To my dismay, every spot was taken: there were loads of cars up there.  It seemed to be some sort of gathering.  It was too late for me to search for another spot, so I parked up on the grass verge and set my aerial up behind the car.  It was a bit dodgy, because it was very close to the unlit road and it was quite scary with these idiot drivers haring round the corner towards me.  Throughout the entire event, I kept my lights on so I could be seen.

I could also be seen by the occupants of all the cars squeezed in front of the barriers.  They watched me, as I sat in the car speaking into a microphone and as I got out several times to repoint the aerial.  They looked at me curiously and chatted amongst themselves through their open car windows.  I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it was probably along the lines of “Look at this fucking idiot. What’s he up to?”

Despite being in my car – with the doors locked – I didn’t feel comfortable. I didn’t feel safe.

I’m going to have to find a backup location for next month.

Or take a bodyguard with me.

I Can See Clearly Now…

/ masher / 6 Comments

… Lorraine has gone.

About twenty years or so ago, I started wearing spectacles… for reading.

Over the years, though, my eyes got worse and about ten years ago I became a full-time Speccy-Four-Eyes .

I bought my first pair of glasses from a well known high street opticians – who I won’t name here, but it ryhmes with Pec Shavers – and I have been going there ever since.

The last couple of times though, I didn’t feel I got the level of service that I should be getting.  And I always felt like I was on a conveyor, being passed from assistant to assistant to optician to assistant with lots of waiting on hard plastic chairs in between, but always, ultimately, with a rush to get me sorted and out of the store as quickly as possible..

I mentioned this to a mate of mine and he said he’d had the same experience and so had changed to a small independent optician. He highly recommended them, so I thought I would give them a go.

A couple of weeks ago, I phoned and made an appointment. The lady at the other end was super polite and helpful and she gave me instructions on where best to park.

On the day, I parked up in the supermarket car park as instructed, with plenty of time before my appointment and started the six-minute walk that Google Maps was displaying on my phone. After a couple of minutes, I realised the map on the phone wasn’t changing – it did this once before, I think the GPS has gone faulty – so I gave up with it and put it away. I wandered up and down the high street but – try as I might – I couldn’t find the opticians.

The irony of that wasn’t lost on me.

I asked several people for directions, but no-one could help.  My appointment was now overdue and so I phoned the opticians and the super nice lady gave me directions.  A few minutes later, I arrived to find them smiling and waving to me out of the window. A very friendly bunch.

Once inside, a few  details were taken then the optician took me through to a room at the back.

She checked my eyes with the usual “Is it better with this… or this?  This… or this?”. She photographed my retina and checked my peripheral vision and all the time we chatted about this and that. All very pleasant and relaxed.

Afterwards, I sat down with the owner and we discussed several different options for my glasses. Again, we chatted and laughed as we tried different frames and at no point was there any sense of a rush  – they seemed to have all the time in the world for me.

Yes, it was more expensive – but only slightly – and it was such a different (better) experience to what I’d had before, that I think it was well worth paying that little extra.

In fact, I’m actually looking forward to my next visit.

Jimmy

/ masher / 4 Comments

Last night, the current Mrs Masher and I went to see Jimmy Carr.

Unfortunately, he didn’t see us, as we were just two faces amongst a couple of thousand, seated there in the theatre.

He was, of course, very funny and, as usual, many of his near-the-knuckle quips elicited wincing groans as well as laughs from the audience.

It was also interspersed with a couple of serious comments on societal norms, which garnered rounds of uncertain applause, because, when you are being hit with rapid joke after joke punchlines – all of which pretty much hit the mark – when you then hear a punchline that isn’t funny, it takes a moment to register that it was a serious comment and not just a gag that didn’t quite work.

Towards the end of his set, he told some risque jokes that “… could get me cancelled”, and sure enough, they were the sort of jokes that would likely send the woke, snowflake community into a frenzy, but we – the audience – lapped it up.

I think, if you go to a Jimmy Carr show, you know what to expect. We expected a barrage of witty, risque, smutty and sarcastic jokes.  We expected him to touch on taboo subjects and make us squirm with embarrassed laughter.

He didn’t let us down.

Ah ah ahhhhh.