People

Litter bugs

/ masher / 8 Comments

Littering is something that really annoys me and I just can’t get my head around the mentality of those that do it.

We have a small newsagents just up the road from us and there is a lot of litter in the area surrounding it, as a result of people unwrapping their purchase as they exit and just dropping the wrapping on the floor – despite there being a rubbish bin right outside the shop.  Cellophane wrappers; various sweets and bubblegum wrappers; discarded scratchcards and empty fag packets all lay on the pavements within 50 yards of the shop.  Vape boxes seem to be the latest thing: I’m seeing them everywhere… including in the woods, which REALLY annoys me.

And there are a couple of park benches over the field where I walk the dog in the morning.  Lately, these seem to have become a meeting point for groups of young lads at night and in the morning their detritus is littered around the benches, looking a right mess.  Empty bottles of various spirits and cheap plastic shot glasses from the local supermarket are a common sight, along with non-inflated balloons and dozens of those little silver canisters that they sniff the gas from, to get high.  The council cleaners will tidy it up, but sometimes it can stay that way for days before they get round to it so, I have taken to picking it up myself and dumping it all in one of the nearby litter bins.

Youngsters can almost (almost!) be excused, because they are young and stupid, but when I see adults doing it, that really rankles me.  I was at some traffic lights the other day, sitting behind a big, flash, four-wheel-drive Audi, and I watched in dismay as some cellophane wrapping and an empty fag packet were dropped out of the driver’s window, just as the lights changed and they sped off. I gave chase, forced them to the side of the road and made them walk back and pick up their rubbish.
Well, that’s what happened in my head.  In reality, I just shook my head in dismay and wished that there had been a copper around, because littering isn’t just anti-social, it’s an offence that carries a penalty: under section 87 of the Environmental Protection Act 1990, offenders can be fined up to £2,500.  However, I doubt many people actually get fined and for those that do, it’s probably only minimal.

We need to change these people’s mindsets somehow; show them that there is a harsh penalty for littering.

OK, I’m thinking that the death penalty is probably a bit Draconian, but what about corporal punishment?  Fifty lashes for dropping a fag packet. Have it televised on Channel 4 (because it’s a public service  broadcaster) and it won’t be long before we once again have a green and pleasant land, I’m sure.

Let there be light

/ masher / 6 Comments

I fitted a new security light to my garage at the weekend, as the one that I had put up several years ago had stopped working.  It still came on, but the LEDs were so dim, you’d hardly notice it.  And that’s the trouble with this new technology: in the old days (which wasn’t that long ago, really), you could easily swap out the halogen bulb… a relatively cheap, ten-minute job. But you can’t do that with these LED ones, instead, you have to replace the whole unit.

So, I bought a new one and set about fitting it.  Should only take half an hour or so. He said.

What I’d forgotten, was that I had fitted the original one about five years ago, before I had an electric, roller, garage door fitted.  The casing at the top of the door that houses the roller and the motor, etc. was now making it difficult to get at the wiring.

Very bloody difficult.

After much faffing about, I managed to do it, but it took an hour longer than I had expected it would… as these things always do.

The next step was to set it up when darkness fell, so, after dragging the mutt around the woods, I set about walking up and down the street and in and out of my driveway, trying to get it set such that it only came on when I actually walked onto the driveway:  adjust, hide round the corner until the light goes off, walk past, adjust, repeat a dozen times.  It’s fair to say I got some strange looks from passers-by whilst I was standing behind the fence, hiding from the sensor and waiting for the light to go off, but, if it’s gonna be done, it’s gonna be done proper. It always annoys me when walking along the pavement at night, to be suddenly blinded by someone’s security floodlight, because they haven’t set it up correctly.

A perfect example of this is the chap who recently moved into the house across the road. The security light that he put high up on the back of his house seems to be triggered by almost anything… including me when I go out the back door to put some rubbish in the bins.  I wouldn’t mind, but between me and his PIR, is the width of my back garden, the pavement, the road, the pavement on the other side and then the full length of his garden. We’re probably talking 20 to 25 metres.

Worse than that, is on the path which runs alongside the woods, where I walk the dog.  There are houses that back onto the path and several of them have security floodlights. One in particular always comes on as I walk along the path at night. The path must be at least 20 metres from his back fence and then another 15 metres of garden.   With the amount of dog-walkers that go up and down that path, I reckon his light must be on for much of the evening.

Any road up… following the attempted garage break-in a few years back (which is why I had to get a new door fitted), I also fitted a couple of LED downlights above the garage door. These come on automatically when it gets dark and do a good job of illuminating the garage door and that bit of the driveway.  The new security floodlight adds to that by being much brighter and lighting the whole driveway.

Have I made it more secure, I wonder, or have I just made it easier for the burglars to see what they’re doing?

Brum brum

/ masher / 6 Comments

Yesterday, I went up to the NEC in Birmingham for the Bike Show… now known as Motorcycle Live.

It was this: most excellent.

So many gorgeous bikes.  And I wanted to buy so many of them!

But I was very restrained and in the end, I only spent £45,000

In my head.

I could easily have spent so much more (in my head), but I didn’t. Because I showed discipline.

I’m just so adult, nowadays.

Also,I’ve probably caught the Covids, because it was absolutely packed with people in there and it was impossible to social distance from each other.

And hardly anyone was wearing a mask (including me: my glasses kept misting up and I couldn’t see anything, so I gave up with it).

But, it was a good day out and I just hope that I get to ride all my new bikes (in my head), before the plague takes me.

 

 

 

If you go down to the woods today…

/ masher / 7 Comments

… you’re sure of a big surprise.

I’ve seen and come across various things in our local piece of woodland over the years, as I go on my nightly perambulations with the dog: money (over seventeen pounds, so far); modelling shoots and rutting teenagers to name but a few, but yesterday was a new one for me.

At this time of year, it gets dark early and in the woods it gets even darker, even earlier.

I carry a small torch with me, but I tend not to use it, preferring to walk in the darkness. There is usually just enough moon and starlight for me to make out the footpath I am following and I tend to just follow the white fur of the dog’s backside: she knows the route.   Interestingly, I’ve also found that I can see better in the dark without my glasses, so they go in my top pocket until we come back out into the light of the streetlamps.

It’s rare that I’ll see anyone in the woods when it’s dark, but I do see and hear the occasional dogwalker crashing their way through, usually shining one of those super-bright torches ahead of them.

Last night, as Saber and I walked along the path that runs parallel with the main road, I saw a bright light ahead of us and I could hear voices  and could vaguely make out some shadowy shapes.  Unlike a dog walker though, these were stationary. Sixty seconds later, I was upon them.

Under the bright light of their torch and without my glasses, my vision was slightly blurred, but I could make out four blokes. Two seemed to be kneeling on the floor and the other two looked like they were intimidating them.  My first thought was that they were shooting a scene for a  film – several times I have seen students from the local college doing just that.  I startled them slightly as they hadn’t seen me come up behind them.

I stopped and spoke to them. “Everything all right?” One of them came up close to me. “Fine”, he said, “Everything’s fine”.  I stared into his eyes – which was pretty much all I could see, as he was wearing a black hooded top and a black face mask. Something didn’t feel right. My Masher Sense™ was tingling.

With the torch light shining at me, I couldn’t see what was going on behind the imposing figure standing before me, but I could hear scuffling and the sound of someone’s voice being muffled.

“What’s going on here?” I asked, warily

Then a voice from behind the torch shouted “HELP ME!!”, before being quickly muffled again.

“What are you doing?” I said, a bit forcefully.

His eyes glared at me and I could see anger in them. “Everything is fine”, he repeated.

Suddenly, I didn’t feel safe. From the corner of my eye, I could see my soppy German Shepherd Dog in her flashing pink collar, sniffing around a tree and paying absolutely no attention to what was going on.

Then I remembered that I was holding my walkie-talkie in my hand, as I had been chatting with a couple of local hams as I walked round. I spoke into it: “Just standby two, I’ve got a bit of a situation here”, I said.  That was enough to make them think  I was someone I wasn’t and they turned and fled out of the woods onto the main road.

“Thanks man. You saved my life”. The voice came from a young Indian chap, his face bloodied and bruised from where they had beaten him up. Blood stains covered his clothes.

I questioned him for a couple of minutes. They had threatened him with a machete – though neither of us had actually seen one – and had taken his money and mobile phone. It seems they were after more money, but he wouldn’t go into details. It also seemed that his ‘friend’ who had been on the floor beside him, had also fled… most likely, he believed, this had been a set up.

Several times I suggested calling the police, but he didn’t want them involved, so I called him a taxi to take him home. I waited with him until it arrived, as – understandably –  he didn’t want to be left alone at the side of the road.

The more I think about this, the more I think it was probably drugs related.

I should have called the police.

Happy Birthday Hedy

/ masher / 6 Comments

Today is Hedy Lamarr’s 107th birthday.

Or, at least it would be, if she were still alive.

But, it’s a birthday that is still celebrated throughout the world – albeit, in a rather low-key fashion – by radio amateurs.

So, why would a load of nerdy radio hams celebrate the life of a 1940’s Hollywood actress?

She became most famous for her role as Delilah, playing opposite Victor Mature’s Samson  in Cecil B DeMille’s masterpiece “Samson & Delilah” and at the time, she was touted the most beautiful woman in cinema.

But, what many people don’t realise, is that she was also an inventor.

She invented several things, but is most famously known (among the cognoscente) for inventing a radio guidance system for torpedoes during the second World War.

The system used a technique known as Frequency Hopping Spread Spectrum and was developed as a way for the Allies to remotely control their torpedoes without the enemy being able to jam them.

Although they patented this system in 1942, the US Navy only started installing an updated version of it in the 1960s, after the patent had run out, so Lamarr never received a penny in royalties.

More importantly, the principle behind FHSS went on to become the basis of more modern radio techniques that we all use today, such as Wi-Fi, GPS, Bluetooth and mobile phone transmissions.

So, perhaps it should be all of us wishing Hedy Lamarr a Happy Birthday, and not just a bunch of nerdy radio hams.

Scumbag

/ masher / 9 Comments

It was just before three o’clock yesterday afternoon, when I came off of a Teams call

Only five minutes before the next one, so I nipped downstairs to grab a glass of water.

The current Mrs Masher was in the kitchen, grabbing a drink for herself.  She’d been hard at work, cleaning her car inside and out and it now sat just outside , gleaming in the sun, it’s doors wide open to give it an airing and the radio blaring out her favourite music station. The hoover sat on the pavement next to it; its mains cable lay across the path to the house and up through a window for power, presenting a precarious trip hazard to any passers-by.

“Look at her, laying there like Lady Muck”, said Mrs M, gesturing toward the dog laying in the boot of the car, it’s rear hatch open like all the other doors.

I couldn’t see properly from the kitchen window and so moved round to the hallway and looked through the window there.

Sure enough, Saber lay there looking quite happy and comfortable, with the sun on her neck and a gentle breeze blowing across her face.

As I watched, a chap wearing a hoodie and walking on the other side of the road suddenly crossed over and picked up his pace, making a beeline toward the car. I realised immediately what his intention was and screamed at the wife as I legged it toward the back door: “That bloke’s gonna nick your car!”

Being nearer, she was out of the door before me. By now the chap was in the car, had started the engine and was beginning to drive away.  Mrs M leapt into the front passenger seat as the car pulled away off the pavement. “NO YOU DON’T! NO YOU FUCKING DON’T!!”, she shouted at him.

I tried to get in the back seat, but the door slammed  shut as the car pulled away, catching  my finger and for a second, all I could do was stand there and watch, as this robber took the car down the road, along with my wife – who was still half  hanging out of the door. The dog looked back at me from the rear of the car, confused.

In that one second, my heart sank as – in my mind – I pictured the wife falling out of the door onto the road- pushed out by the robber – and the car disappearing down the road, with the dog still in the back, neither of them ever to be seen again.

But, it hadn’t actually got very far, when the car suddenly slowed and veered toward someone’s garden wall.  It was still moving slowly as I raced over to it and wrenched open the passenger door, but there was just Mrs M in there, trying desperately to steer the car from the passenger seat and put the handbrake on to stop her pride and joy from hitting the wall.  The driver’s door was open and I saw the hoodied hooligan had decamped and was now running up the street.

I gave chase. “COME BACK HERE YOU FUCKER!!” I shouted, running after him as fast as I could.

But, with all the will in the world, there was no way this fifty-nine year-old man, in carpet slippers, with a chest condition and bad feet, was going to catch a fit, young hoodlum legging it for all he was worth. Which wasn’t much.

He outpaced me easily, stopping to look back briefly as he headed into one of the many alleyways that criss-cross the estate.  “SHITHEAD!” I yelled, as I came to a halt, deeply out of breath.  Where was my fierce Alsation dog, when I needed her?

Back home, it became clear why he had abandoned his attempt. “I’m surprised he was able to run that fast”, said Mrs M, “after I punched him in the bollocks.”

Get a bush pt2

/ masher / 5 Comments

I was chatting on the radio, as I rounded Handjob Corner on last night’s perambulations with the dog.

“Would you believe it, they’re here again!”, I said. “Just standby for two minutes, I’m going to have a word.”

As I’d been walking through the woods, I had been behind a family out with their dogs. They had turned left into the field, rather than follow the path round to the right as I had, so they hadn’t happened across the two youngsters up to their shenanigans on the log.  But this was the fourth time I’d bumped into them!

She was seated on the fallen tree and he was stood before her as per usual, but this time it looked different somehow.

As I got closer, they huddled into each other to hide any embarrassment.

As I drew level on the path, I stopped and spoke to them. “You alright there?” I asked.  The young lad mumbled something incomprehensible and so I took a step nearer. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

He mumbled again, so I took another step closer. “Sorry, still didn’t get that”, I said. They now both looked physically uncomfortable at my close proximity. “We’re OK”, said the young lad, speaking up to avoid me getting any closer. To be fair, I don’t think I could have got much closer, as we were now only a few feet from each other. The girl kept her head down and slightly turned away from me. I doubt either of them were much older than sixteen.

“What’re you doing?” I asked, matter-of-factly.

“Me and my girlfriend are just kissing”, he said.  At this point, Saber took an interest, went up to him and started sniffing his leg. Startled, he jumped back, removing what little cover he was affording his girlfriend.

Her trousers were down around her knees.

I nodded toward her exposed bare legs: “It looks like you’re doing a bit more than kissing”, I said, as she pulled her coat tails up to try and cover her privates.

“Look”, I said, “I’ve got no problem with this sort of thing… we were all young once, but do you have to do it right on the main path?”

“We’re not on the path”, he said.

I pointed to the path behind me. “You’re ten feet away!”

He looked at me, abashed. “It’s awkward” he said. I’m not sure what he meant by that exactly.

“Why don’t you go further into the woods where you can’t be seen?”  The girl kept her head down, but giggled at this. “And you… “, I said, “pull your trousers up”.

She started to, but then realised she couldn’t do so, without exposing herself to me. “Stop looking then”, she said, indignantly.

“Please, just try to find somewhere a bit more private”, I said, as I turned and continued on my way.

Whether that’s the last I’ll see of them, I just don’t know.

Get a bush!

/ masher / 7 Comments

As oft mentioned here before, most evenings I take the dog for a drag through the woods.

There are many footpaths that criss-cross their way through the woodland, but I usually take the path that runs almost at the perimeter, thereby giving the longest trip round.

It’s a well trodden path and I often meet other dog walkers and sometimes families just out for a walk, perambulating their way around the same circuit.

A couple of weeks ago, I was about halfway round, when I turned a corner and happened across a young couple sitting on a fallen tree. Upon seeing me, the chap immediately rolled off the tree and cowered down behind it. His girlfriend remained seated with her back to me as I walked past. I could hear her giggling slightly.

“Does your dog bite, mate?” he asked, “I’m scared of Alsations.”

I wasn’t taken in at all by his faux act of terror, as I knew he was just trying to cover the fact that his trousers were around his ankles: as I’d rounded the corner, I’d seen that his girl was giving him some hand-relief.

I shook my head at him, said nothing and continued on my way.

Amazingly, two days later, I saw them again in the same spot. This time they were standing up and snogging intensely, while she slowly wanked him off.  Lost in the moment, she had her eyes closed and he had his back to me as Saber and I approached. I must have got within ten feet of them before she opened her eyes and saw me. Immediately, her hand stopped moving up and down and she pulled him closer to her, to try and hide the fact that his cock was out of his trousers.

She looked at me as I walked past. Again, I said nothing, but nodded a greeting toward her and gave her a little smile.

She smiled back.

Now, I’ve got nothing against these youngsters getting up to such shenanigans in the woods – hell, we all did similar when we were young, I’m sure – but to do it right on one of the major footpaths?  Jeez! Go deeper into the woods, at least.

I thought that was it: having been caught a couple of times, they had moved elsewhere, but yesterday evening, as I rounded Handjob Corner (as I have now nicknamed it) I bumped into a lady wearing wellington boots, walking toward me.  She smiled and nodded a greeting and I did the same back. Then, as I took a few more steps  I saw the young couple again, in their usual spot.

This time, she was seated on the tree and he… was down on his knees, up close to her, again to hide the fact he was exposed (his trousers hanging down at the back were a giveaway).

I’m guessing that he had been standing there whilst his girlfriend gave him hand  (or maybe even oral – in that position she would have been at the right height for it) relief.  And then the welly boot lady had come round the opposite corner and he’d not had time to do anything but to drop to the ground to hide his embarrassment.

I slowed my walk down and went past very slowly, maximising the amount of time this chap had to stay on his knees in the mud.  His girlfriend looked at me as I ambled slowly past, and again we smiled greetings to each other, as her boyfriend remained motionless on his knees, his head buried in her bosom to hide his blushes.

If he had any.

Missive

/ masher / 6 Comments

I received a letter in the post the other day.

A proper letter.

Written on proper lined paper.

And handwritten in pen.

On both sides.

And it came in an envelope. Again handwritten and with a stamp.

How exciting!

It wasn’t actually addressed to me, but rather to “The Householder”.

But nonetheless, it was a ‘proper’ letter, and who gets many of those nowadays?

“Who could have sent this?” I wondered, as I carefully tore open the envelope.

Teresa, that’s who.

I don’t know any Teresa, but her neat  handwriting went into some detail, explaining that she lives locally and that she would like to invite me and my family to watch a series of “uplifting” videos currently showing online.

On the Jehovah’s Witness website.

The letter goes on to explain how God will restore the Earth to it’s original condition of paradise… blah, blah.

And Teresa even signed off with her full name and mobile telephone number, should I have any questions.

I hadn’t even considered it before, but here is another section of society that has been terribly affected by the pandemic.

I bet they’ll be glad when Covid is gone and they can go back to knocking on doors.

Not today, thank you, Teresa.

Out and about

/ masher / 7 Comments

Today I went to St Neots, in Cambridgeshire.

And wandered around a damp field.

Full of damp men.

Looking at a load of old, damp, radio-related tat.

And had a great time… as did we all, I think.

It’s the first radio rally I have been to in nearly two years and it was good to catch up with some like-minded nerds, who I haven’t seen in a while.

And I grabbed a couple of bargains too, which pleased me greatly.

It looks like the rally calendar is starting to get back to normal.

Hopefully, the next one will be just as enjoyable.

And not as damp.

Och aye, the noo!

/ masher / 7 Comments

The current Mrs Masher and I decided we needed a break and so a long weekend was just had, up in that there Scotland.

Edinburgh, to be more exact.

And very nice it was too, apart from the journey up there, which took nearly nine hours  – even with Mrs M and her decidedly heavy right foot doing the driving.  So many hold ups and accidents! I would say that people have forgotten how to drive properly, during the pandemic, but let’s face it, the roads were just as bad before.

We stayed in a very nice hotel just outside of Edinbugger for two nights and then spent the third in a Premier Inn actually in the city, but on the waterfront.

The bus and tram system there is superb and very reasonably priced, but even so, we did a lot of walking. A LOT of walking.

We did a tour of the castle – of course.

And we walked the length and some of the breadth of Princes Street.

And, of course, the Royal Mile.

Which felt like the Royal Two Miles to my poor, aching feet.

And we did a tour of the Royal Yacht Britannia, finishing with tea and cake in the tea room.

Because we is posh, innit.

The yacht was fascinating: we even saw the royal sleeping quarters. Interestingly, Her Maj and Phil both had separate bedrooms, with single beds.  There was only one room with a double bed in it, which Charles had apparently installed when he was boffing Diana.
But, walking around the boat, you certainly got a feel for the very different way of life these people led/lead.

I’ve actually  been to Edinbruff several times before, but only for work and you don’t really get to see much when flitting from site to site, in a car filled to the brim with lasers and fibre optic patch cords, so it was really nice to be able to take in some of the sights and absorb some of the grandeur of this historic city.

We had a really good time.

Just a shame about all the bloody roadworks everywhere.

Smokey and the bandits

/ masher / 7 Comments

I’ve mentioned several times before, the woods where I often walk the dog.

It’s that time of year where it starts looking good: the trees are starting to get some foliage and the bluebells have just started to shoot up and blossom.  In full bloom, it’s a beautiful sight and makes for a lovely walk.

But yesterday, as the mutt and I made our way round, I heard the cracking of branches.  Peering through the trees, I could see four herberts – all aged about sixteen – breaking  them from the trees. Then as I got closer, I could see that they were throwing them onto a fire that they had made around a tree.

I pushed my way through the undergrowth until I was about four or five meters away and from there  I could see that the tree was well ablaze – surprisingly so, considering the recent rain and snow we’d had.

“Oi! What do you think you are doing?” I shouted at them.  They all had hoods up, making it difficult to see their faces, especially through the smoke that was coming from the tree.

They all looked away from me, so as to hide their faces.  “We’re just having a little fire to keep ourselves warm” said the short one.

“No you’re not!” I exclaimed, “You’re setting fire to that tree, you bloody idiots”.

“We’ll put it out later”, said the short, gobby one. There’s always a gobby one. “We’ve got some bottles of water.”

“A couple of bottles of water are not going to put THAT out!”.   I needed to get rid of them, so I got my phone out. “Right, you just wait there”, I said.

“Fuck off!”  A stick flew past my head and landed in the bush behind me, as they decided to flee before I called the police.

With them out of the way, I started to tackle the blazing tree: the way this fire was raging, there was no doubt in mind that, if left, it would consume the whole tree and possibly several of those around it.

Using a long stick at arms-length, I pulled and pushed apart the tee-pee of sticks they had rather expertly placed around the tree, helping to concentrate the flames at the base.

I beat and stamped the fire out until there was just ash and embers left. A couple of small fires kept self-igniting and I wondered how to stop them.  Having the bladder of a small child, I’ll often stop for a pee as I walk round the woods, but this time, when I really needed it, I just didn’t want to go – not that it would have been enough.

And then I spotted a plastic  2 litre water bottle laying in the grass nearby.  It must have been laying there for sometime, as the water inside had gone green.  No matter: I quickly undid the lid and threw some into the smouldering embers.

WHOOSH!

I jumped back, as flames shot up into the air.

Petrol!  Of course, that’s how they’d managed to get the fire to take so well.  Little gits!

I spent a few more minutes putting out the fire I had just restarted and then headed home, taking the rest of the petrol with me – I wasn’t going to leave it so that they could come back later and try again.

All my clothes – including my coat – have had to go in the wash, as they stink of smoke.

Now, when I was a lad, me and my mates used to get up to mischief… of course we did, but we never did anything like that.

I might be starting to sound like an old man, but what is it with kids today?