Going out

Last One

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As mentioned in the previous post, I went to the last of this year’s Xmas parties on Friday.

It was a good do – free bar and free food, etc. I really quite enjoyed it.

Thing is, there weren’t that many people who I knew. The company has such a high turnover of staff that, of the sixty or so people there, I probably only knew about a dozen of them – just the old stalwarts.

But it was great to catch up with those that I did know and haven’t seen since I retired.

There was Football Freddy; Doroffee; The Big Boss and The Other Big Boss; The Legend that is… ; Moany Eric; AC/DC and Steve… amongst others. And let’s not forget Scrubs Up Well Julie, who always looks fantastic at parties, in her low cut, little black dress with the split up the side (Phew!)

The DJ was a bit rubbish, I thought, playing some modern shite that no-one had heard of, apart from half a dozen young girls with impossibly short skirts covering their ridiculously small bottoms, dancing away in one corner of the room by themselves.

Eventually, he put some decent stuff on and I was able to strut my stuff. It was like John Travolta had just stepped onto the dancefloor.

Probably.

But – under strict orders from the current Mrs Masher, not to return home like I did last week – I refrained from drinking too much of the free booze and I left in time to make sure I caught the train so that I would get home at a reasonable hour  (2am wasn’t too bad, methinks).

So, that’s it now: no more festivities until the big day, when we celebrate the birth of Santa.

My liver will appreciate the break, I’m sure.

Xmas Dinner

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Tomorrow (Friday the 13th – what could go wrong?) I am having a Christmas do, down that London.

This is with the people I was working with, only earlier this year.  As per usual, it’s a free bar and free food. It’d be rude not to go.  I hasten to add, that this soirée isn’t being held – or paid for – by the impecunious and somewhat, beleagured water board that I used to work for. No, this is being thrown – as it is every year – by their more affluent contract partner.

If it’s anything like last year (or the year before that, or the year before that) I shall likely get a little sozzled.

And, this isn’t my first Christmas party/lunch/get-together this year. This will be the fourth.

I’ve already had a get together with some old work colleagues, in Reading, this week.

Last Saturday, I attended the Xmas bash of the motorcycle club I belong to: forty of us turned up and pretty much took over the pub where it was being held, which was great fun.

And the day before that, I was with my old BT pals in ‘spoons in town.  Even though the food wasn’t brilliant, fourteen quid for Xmas lunch and a pint? Can’t knock that.
It seems though, that I had rather too much to drink.  One minute I was seated at the table, chatting away with the guys, next thing, I wake up the following morning, naked in bed, next to the wife.   Between those two events, I have nothing but a vague recollection of being bundled into a car.

I’ve not been that far gone in the last forty-five years!

I’m wondering whether someone spiked my six pints of Leffe?

Gladd All Over

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Last year, we had Barbenheimer – watching a low-brow, humourous film in the same week as a high-brow, serious film – in that case, Barbie and Oppenheimer.

This weekend, me and the missus did Gladdington.

I’m sure you can work out the two films involved.

We enjoyed them both, though I felt Ridley Scott’s epic stretched incredulity somewhat.

Whereas, a talking bear…

Anyway, yesterday, myself, Son and a couple of mates headed up to the NEC in Birmingham for our annual trip to the Motorcycle Live Show.

It was all rather fab, with so much to see and do… and eat.

A small highlight was the Isle of Man simulator, which gave us a taste of what it’s like to blat around the TT course on two wheels at stupid speeds. Now that’s out of my system, I have no need to actually go and do it (because that was really going to happen, wasn’t it?).

I also came away with a couple of carrier bags’ worth of merchandising, that I probably shouldn’t have been spending my hard-earned (cough) dosh on.

But that’s the thing with these shows: you just don’t know that you need a pair of overpriced, corrective boot insoles, until you see them.

Cinema

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The current Mrs Masher and I went to the pictures at the weekend, to see Heretic, starring Hugh Grant.

I’m not a fan of the horror genre and this film sort of fell into that category, but… it was alright. I quite enjoyed it, actually.

But this post isn’t about the film itself. Rather, I wanted to comment on the lack of people in the cinema with us.  It was a Friday night and the place was half empty.

Or half full.

It was the same last weekend, when Son and I went to see Venom – Marvel’s latest cinematic blockbuster – and so we saw it in the IMAX.

This particular screen, I reckon, was probably only about a quarter full.

Or, three-quarters empty.

Whichever way you want to look at it.

I know that cinema has never fully recovered from the Covid lockdown, but the numbers of people willing to go to the trouble of travelling to a picturehouse nowadays is dwindling and if it continues in this direction, then the industry will become unsustainable.  Following the great plague, so many cinemas closed down that many people now have to travel out of town in order to see the latest popcorn-frenzy inducing blockbuster, and plenty just can’t be bothered: “I’ll wait till it comes out on Netflix” is becoming the norm now, I think.

My family have always enjoyed going to the ‘flicks’ and, for us, a trip to see the latest visual feast is quite commonplace.  But, I can honestly say that I can’t think of anyone else within our extended family – or within our circle of friends – who still visit the cinema on a regular – or even semi-regular – basis.

Part of this is down to the hassle of – as I say – having to travel out of town, but I think a more likely reason is cost… it’s just so bloody expensive now.

As an example, in the cinema we go to (out of town) an adult ticket for a standard screening is now £14 … yes, fourteen quid!  Going into the IMAX will set you back a whopping twenty-one pounds.  And children’s tickets are only 50p cheaper, so,  going as a family can work out stupidly expensive.

Now, I’m no economist (far from it)  and I understand how with less attendance, they have been forced to put the prices up, but, surely,  wouldn’t it be better to reduce ticket prices and attract more people into the cinema, than to continually put prices up and drive people away?

A full cinema with tickets sold at £9 has got to be more profitable than a half-full one with tickets at £14.

Hasn’t it?

Sunday, Sunday, So Good To Me

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As Sunday’s go, yesterday’s was a pretty good one.

The weather was perfect – if maybe on the slightly chilly side, early on – as I rode up to Bletchley Park to meet up with a couple of mates for our annual Nerds Day Out. It was a lovely morning and the ride was most enjoyable – tempered only by some irritating roadworks that I should have known to avoid, as they’ve been there for ages.

Despite having visited many times, one of our little group had never been, so we had a good excuse for us to go again.  Not that I need an excuse: I must have been a dozen times already, but I still always learn something new whenever I go.

We looked around many of the huts and also made the obligatory (for us) trip to the National Radio Museum, before grabbing some lunch in Hut 4 and then going to see the Bombe.

After several hours, we’d seen enough, bade our farewells and we each went our seperate ways.

Back home, I had time for a quick cup of tea before I took the dog out and then Mrs M and I jumped in the car and headed to Milton Keynes.

We had just enough time time to shove a Nando’s down our necks before quickly heading to the theatre to see Ben Elton in his Authentic Stupidity tour.

He was this: fucking excellent.

I won’t write a review here, because many others can do it so much better, so I’ll just say: he didn’t disappoint.

That phrase could similarly sum up my Sunday as a whole.

In the words of every failed contestant on Bullseye, “I’ve had a lovely day”.

Ahoj Zlato, Jsem Doma

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Yesterday afternoon, myself and the current Mrs M arrived home, after spending a few days visiting the lovely city of Prague.

It’s a great place to visit if you like art galleries and bookshops. There are SO many art galleries and bookshops.
It’s also great if you are into old churches, because there are plenty of those too.
And, if differing styles of old architecture are your thing, then Prague needs to be on your list: Gothic, Renaissance, Baraque, to name just a few, are in abundance.

However, Mrs M and I aren’t into any of that rubbish – one Gothic church looks exactly the same as another, to me.

What it did have for us though, was some good weather, cheap food, cheap beer and lots of history – I don’t mind a bit of history, me.

Unfortunately, our last day there was marred by me picking up some sort of bug – possibly from the overcrowded Hop ‘n’ Stop buses, that we used so much to get around.

So, I have returned to Blighty, feeling absolutely shite and am currently missing the club BBQ that I was so looking forward to.

I have looked up my syptoms on Dr Google and it looks like I have contracted a dose of Spanish Flu – not the mild one that lays you low for a few days, but the one that killed about 50 milion people at the turn of last century.

Mrs M is constantly dosing me up with Paracetamol, so I’m sure I’ll be fine.

Going Up West

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A few months back, the current Mrs M and I went to see Professor Brian Cox presenting his Horizons show, at the theatre in Milton Keynes.

We thoroughly enjoyed it and so, when we recently saw that it was now on in that London, but this time with a musical accompaniment from a live orchestra, we thought we’d go see it again.

And so, yesterday we caught a train into Paddington, dropped our overnight bags and had a quick shower in our budget hotel – because boy, was it hot and sweaty! – and then made our way to Covent Garden via the Bakerloo line.

I was amazed at how many people there were and at all the hustle and bustle on a week day. Yes, Friday night and the weekend, you’d expect that, but on a Wednesday…?

Anyway, we found a lovely little Italian restaurant and we sat and ate at a table outside on the pavement… because we are just so cosmopolitan.

If you stay in one spot in London for a day, the whole world will pass you by. Certainly, in the hour that we were sat there, a lot of weirdos strange people passed us by.  As fully paid-up members of the People Watchers Club,  we found this delightful.  The food was excellent and the Italian beer even moreso, and we could have quite happily sat there watching the world go by for a couple more hours.

But, we had a show to catch.

This was the first time either of us had visited the Royal Opera House and we were quite taken aback with the the splendour of it all… and also at the price of a bottle of beer!  Our seats at the front of the circle offered a decent view, but little leg room. Which was fine for me, as I only have little legs. Mrs Masher struggled with it though.

The show was exactly the same as the one we had seen previously and hadn’t been updated at all, as far as I could tell.  The music from the orchestra was good, but unrecognisable to me, as some of it had been composed purely for this show.  You know how pissed off fans get when they go to see their favourite band and all they play is their new unreleased stuff? Well, that’s how I felt. I wanted (and kind of expected, I suppose) the greatest hits: Holst; Strauss and even a bit of Vangelis.

Neither of us were enjoying it as much as we’d hoped and so, when the interval came round, we did a runner and spent some time enjoying the delights of Covent Garden by night, instead. More beer!

Back in Paddington, we stopped for a couple more drinks in The Sussex Arms – a commercial aircraft-themed pub with seating supplied by Concorde.  It wasn’t too busy and the music wasn’t so loud that you had to shout to be heard.  From there, it was just a short stagger back to our hotel.

It was a great night out and we both thoroughly enjoyed it.

After going through a bit of a rough patch, I think I might be falling in love with London again.

Watery Fowls

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On Saturday, I met up with a couple of friends in London and, after a quick sniffter in a nearby hostlery, we dropped in to the Apollo Theatre on Shaftesbury Avenue to see Fawlty Towers – The Play.

It was this: excellent.

The set was a faithful recreation of the original – as can be seen from the photo that I took, from our seats up in the Grand Circle – and the cast were brilliant.

John Cleese has taken three classic episodes from the nearly 50 year-old TV series (Mrs Richards, The Hotel Inspectors and The Germans) and merged them into a single 90 minute show.

And it works wonderfully!

It was evident from the cheers at certain points throughout the play, that much of the audience were – just like my mates and I – die-hard fans of the show and had likely seen every episode several times over, but there were many younger people in the audience too, who were possibly seeing it for the first time and they seemed to be enjoying it just as much as we were.

Catch it if you can… you won’t be disappointed.

TW3

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It’s been a busy seven days.

On Tuesday, Mrs M and I went to see  Mind Mangler.
A comedy theatrical show with some magic thrown in.   It was pretty good and we both enjoyed it.
A good night out

On Wednesday I was walking the dog in the woods, when I happened across two young men setting fire to a pushbike.
They were using several aerosol cans of deodorant as flame throwers, to set light to this bike which they had propped up against a tree.
It was well aflame by the time I came across them.   I questioned them as to their actions and told them to put it out, which they tried to do, but the tyres were stubbornly alight and took some extinguishing. Nonetheless, I stood with them until it was done and then continued to berate them, explaining  just how stupid they were. They looked somewhat abashed at my dressing down of them. Thing is, they weren’t kids, these were grown men of about 19 or 20 years old, I’d say.  A sudden police siren from just outside the woods had them scarpering off, however, it wasn’t a police car but rather, a big red fire engine: someone had seen the smoke rising and had called the Fire Service. I explained to the fire men (people) what had happened and they thanked me for making sure it was put out, but I sensed they felt a little annoyed, having driven halfway across town to find just a smouldering bicycle.

On Thursday, upon discovering that I’d been somewhat remiss with my weekly grocery shopping and hadn’t got us anything to eat, Mrs M and I went to dine at our local pub. Turns out that Thursday night is Build-A-Burger night, and so we built ourseves a couple of fantastic burgers, served up with a side order of chips and onion rings.  We left the pub feeling absolutely stuffed.   And all for a fiver each. Can’t complain at that. We’ll probably go again this week!

On Friday night, we went out to the pictures to see the new Bad Boys film.  It was alright.  I quite enjoyed it, actually… despite missing all the previous Bad Boys films.
Even better, though, was the Nandos we had beforehand.

Saturday evening saw us driving down to Basingstoke for a family function.
I won’t go into the details of that, here.

And on Sunday, Son and I went down to (what was) the Olympic Stadium – but is now home to West Ham FC – to watch some American men playing rounders. Major League Baseball (MLB) came to London for the weekend and as Son is a bit of a baseball fan – and a fan of the Phillies (Philadelphia) in particular –  we went along to watch them play against the New York Mets.  I have to say, it was a fun, friendly event and everyone seemed to enjoy it… even fans of the Phillies, who ultimately managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, right at the last… er, innings(?)  (I really had no idea what was going on).  But it was a good day out and everyone had a great time and there was no trouble… despite the copious amounts of alcohol being consumed in the stands.

I had a chilli dog.

It was enormous and lasted me all day.

 

Le Grand Weekend

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Friday evening saw me catching the train into St Pancras and then taking a five-minute walk in the direction of the British Library.

No, I wasn’t heading that way because I had an overdue book to return, but because it was pretty much opposite a pub that I was to be frequenting, that night.

To recognise a successful year of hard graft and achieving targets at work, our contractor company threw a big party and – as ‘The Client’ – I was one of the few from the Water Board invited along to help them celebrate.

They laid on a free bar… it would have been rude of me to not go.

Despite the free drinks, I left the bar in a reasonable state of sobriety, I thought.  This was proved not to be the case, as I then went on to catch the wrong train and found myself heading toward Peterborough.  Fortunately, I realised my mistake and got off at Hitchin, where a phone call to my son elicited a free taxi ride home at one in the morning. I knew I’d had kids for a reason.

After completing my normal Saturday morning chores, The Current Mrs. Masher™ and I caught a train back down to St Pancras and then jumped on the tube down to Hammersmith, where we took in a show.  Now, I’m not sure where or when ‘Minority Report – the play’ entered my consciousness, but as soon I I heard about it, I knew I wanted to see it. I think I read the book many years ago (by Philip K Dick) and I certainly enjoyed the cinematic interpretation starring Tom Cruise, but I was keen to see how they could successfully transfer this to the stage.

Not very successfully, it would seem.  I enjoyed it, but it’s not one I would recommend.

Afterward, Mrs M and I had a couple of drinks in the pub across the road and were delighted to be entertained by the security staff trying to eject a young girl for not having ID.  There were four burly men, all afraid to physically touch this young girl for fear of later repercussions. She and her friends were filming them on their phones and the security guys were filming them back on their phones and bodycams. Many of those seated at tables around all this, were filming it on their phones. Everyone was filming everyone and no-one was making a move.  This went on for about fifteen minutes, before one guy – who was obviously the head of the security personnel – decided that he’d had enough and  forcibly ejected her from the pub.  The girl made no effort to resist and allowed herself to be dragged through the pub like one of those passive protesters you see on the news, all the time holding her phone to her ear, pretending she was talking to the police. There was a small cheer from the pub’s clientele, as she was thrown out the door.

Sunday morning, Mrs M and I grabbed a late breakfast in the hotel and then caught the train back to Luton.   Well, we tried to, but we were turned away by the ticket turnstile. Seems Mrs M had bought the wrong tickets!  Instead of the London to Bedford Thameslink train, she had – for some reason – bought an EWR ticket to Corby.  And it didn’t leave for another hour!

We sat outside a Costa, drinking coffee and watching the Eurostar trains coming and going.  To be fair, it was a most pleasant way to while away an hour.   I marvelled at the tall impressive roof and googled some information on the station itself.  When it was opened in 1868, it was reckoned to be the largest enclosed space in the world.  It survived two world wars – albeit with some damage – and was due to be knocked down in the late 1960s, but was saved just ten days before demolition was due to start, with a Grade 1 listing being placed on it.  I’m so glad it was saved – it’s a fantastic building.

We caught the train, but it didn’t call in at our stop, so Son (who now has the nickname Uber) was drafted in once again to pick us up.

Sunday night, Son and I went to the pictures to see Fall Guy (Mrs M was too tired).  A thoroughly enjoyable film with lots of action, comedy and relatable characters. Those of us old enough to remember the original TV series on which the film is based, will enjoy picking out the many easter eggs embedded in the film.  I got most of them I think.  In one scene, I heard the Wilhelm Scream, but I can’t find any reference to it in any of the websites that are talking about this picture and its various nods to film lore, so maybe I’ve found one that no-one else has… or maybe I’m just mistaken.  If you catch it, let me know, please. And make sure you catch the mid-credits scene at the end!

Afterwards, we grabbed a bite to eat and I treated Son to a Five Guys.  We both had a cheeseburger and chips and a fizzy drink.  Forty quid!  Yes, the meal was very nice and was a big step up from a McDonalds or a Burger King, but… forty quid?

As I write this, it’s pissing down with rain, which makes it a proper Bank Holiday Monday with nothing to do except sit down in front of the telly.

I think we might watch Minority Report.

Le Weekend

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Ahh, Le Weekend… to coin a phrase nicked from us by the French.

Just because we nicked cul-de-sac from them.

Le tit pour la tat.

Or, should it be la tit pour le tat… what with tits being feminine and all?

I dunno.

Anyway… it was a good weekend because – despite the very blowy weather brought on by storm Kathy, I managed to get the bike out for a few hours, for the first time this year.

Saturday was a couple of hours up and down the A5, just to blow away the cobwebs. And then on Sunday, I met up with a couple of mates and we headed out for breakfast at one of our favourite biker cafés on the A10.  It was still a bit chilly, but my heated jacket did a marvelous job of keeping me toasty.

And we weren’t alone: it was packed in there.  I could barely hear myself think, as I tucked in to my Set 1 Breakfast – sausage, bacon, egg, beans and fried slice all washed down with a cup of slosh. Marvelous!

As we rode along some of the country lanes though, I found myself dismayed at the amount of fly-tipping… it seems to be getting worse. Rubbish everywhere. These people should be strung up!

Sunday afternoon, Mrs M and I decided to go out for a Sunday roast at a pub in the village up the road. To get there, we went along some of those very same country lanes that I’d travelled in the morning on my bike, but this time we were in her car.

Parked in a lay-by on one of these lanes where there was a lot of fly-tipped rubbish, was a black Astra. It’s boot was open and I could see lots of black bags full of rubbish, stowed in the back. A man and a woman appeared to be dumping their rubbish here.  I wound down the car window so that I could hurl some abuse at them as we passed.

But then, as we got closer, I noticed they weren’t dumping rubbish at all… on the contrary, they were wearing rubber gloves and were picking up the rubbish and bagging it and then putting it in their car… to take to the tip, I assume.

Rather than hurl abuse, I leaned out of the window and gave them a round of applause as we went past.

There are some bloody idiots out there, but there are some damn-right heroes as well.

Hi Honey… I’m Home!

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Not that you’d know I’d been away.

But I have.

We have just returned from a few days in the Big Apple… and we are knackered!

So much walking.

So much queueing.

So bloody expensive.

The current Mrs Masher and I have been several times before, but it’s been a while since we were there last.

2001, to be precise. The same year the towers came down.

Since then, not only has the pound dropped substantially against the dollar, but prices have risen dramatically.

For instance, for the four of us to have breakfast in the hotel – and trust me, although it was a posh hotel, the breakfast was exactly the same as you’d get here in a Premier Inn – it cost us $235.   That’s 186 pounds at today’s exchange rate.

A hundred and eighty-six quid!

For breakfast.

Jeez.

But – money aside – we had a great time and took in as many of the sights as we could, in the time we had available.

And we did some shopping – because it’s New York and you have to.

And we took in a show on Broadway(ish).

And we got lost on the subway.

But, we are back home now.

On the way home from Heathrow last night, Mrs M dropped me off in town and I met up with some of my old BT pals for the regular drink and a curry night.  “Just flew in from New York”, I told ’em.  “You can’t say I don’t make the effort.”

But it amazed me to think that only 18 hours earlier, I was in the Hard Rock Café in Times Square, and now, here I was in a Weatherspoons in Luton.

Long-haul travel and different time zones can really mess with your head.