Category: People (page 1 of 3)

Je suis revenu

Not that you’d know I’d been away.

But I have.

I’ve been down to the South of France to spend a week with the family. They are all still down there and won’t be home till the weekend.

But I am now back at home… scratching my mosquito bites.

How was your holiday, I hear you ask?

Well, it was OK. A bit too hot, maybe, but I kept out of the sun as much as I could.

To be honest, I was getting a bit bored after a while.

I always do.

Fortunately, we had a hire car, so we went out a few times. The picture above was taken on my phone, as we walked back to the car, after a hard day’s Geocaching.

My flights on SleazyJet were uneventful, save for the delays. But I was pleased to see that we had a pilot with a sense of humour on the flight home last night:

“For those of you on the left-hand side of the plane: if you look out of your windows you will see a lovely cloudless view of London. You won’t get a better view than that. And for those of you on the right-hand side of the plane… if you look to your left, you’ll see the heads of the people on the left-hand side of the plane, enjoying a wonderful view of London. I’m afraid you won’t get a better view than that.”

I had a window seat on the left-hand side and it was indeed a fantastic view. Being nighttime though, I didn’t recognise any of it.

Upon landing, I was disappointed to find that the free shuttle-bus to the train station, now costs £2.30.

I was annoyed even further when, having purchased my train ticket, I found that the gates were open at either end and I could have ridden for free.

And the final twenty-minute walk home from the station stretched to nearly double that, because my carry-on bag weighed more than twice as much as it had when I originally packed it – carrying most of Mrs M’s clothes as well, due to her needing to make space in her suitcase for all the extra stuff she’d bought out there.

But anyway, I’m back now and the dog is pleased to see me and the temperature is more comfortable and the bed… well, there’s nothing like your own bed, is there?

Now, where did I put that bite cream…?

Jean Genie

As both of you know, I’ve long been a trendsetter when it comes to fashion.

Back in the eighties, my “Frankie’s Gone To Cricklewood” t-shirt was the talk of the canteen at work and my reputation for only wearing underwear from Bloomingdale’s has become the stuff of folklore.

And when plum-coloured, velvet frock-coats with four-inch lapels and 15-denier Harris tweed cuffs come back into fashion…

However, one fashion that I have never followed is that of denim jeans.

I wear denim jeans – of course – but I’m really not bothered about what make they are.

In fact, the pair of jeans that I normally grab out of the wardrobe, are Sainsbury’s own brand, that I bought in an emergency in Torquay, for six quid a few years ago.  I have worn them many times and not had one single person comment that they look cheap or crap.

Levi Jeans are the premium brand, of course, and lots of youngsters throw their hard-earned cash that way. At eighty-five quid a pair though, I’m sure they can’t afford to buy too many pairs.

The ones that astound me though, are the Levis with buttons on the fly rather than a zip. What’s that backward step all about? Because, from what I’ve seen, to have a wee, you have to undo your belt and waist button first, in order to undo the fly buttons. I’ve stood next to many a chap at the urinal, who has had to stand legs akimbo whilst taking a pee, in order to stop his trousers from falling to the floor. Indeed, only a couple of hours ago, whilst visiting the toilet at the cinema (took the kids to see Incredibles 2), I turned round to see a chap standing at the urinal, with his Levi jeans around his ankles. Then, as I washed my hands, I watched in fascination as he pulled his trousers up and went through all the rigmarole of doing up the fiddly buttons. Then – having got his trousers done up again – he wiggled them down, such that three to four-inches of his underpants were showing.

He walked out with a confident swagger… although, with his crotch around his knees, it looked more like a waddle and it left me thinking that fashion was so much more sensible back in the day, wasn’t it?

Now, where did I put that RELAX tee-shirt…

 

Public Service Announcement

Our local Fire & Rescue Service has put together a series of very short videos, all with a World Cup theme.

Whilst – I’m sure – they had a lot of fun putting these videos together, they all have a serious and sobering message.

They’ve made the effort, so the least I can do is be a good sport and PASS IT ON

Enjoy.

Milky milky

I mentioned at the top of the month that I drink quite a lot of tea, at work.

I’m not the only one (although I have to mention that other hot beverages are available).

Of course, no-one in their right mind takes their tea black.

As such we have a fridge at work, in which to keep the milk.

First World problem

I mentioned, last week, about how I do the weekly food shop on a Saturday.

Well, as personal recompense for doing this, first of all, I visit the in-store café, where I will spend 20 minutes relaxing with a cup of tea and a toasted teacake.

I know: very civilised.

It prepares me for facing the hoards of dozy, inconsiderate shoppers, as they slowly drag themselves round, getting in my way and leaving their trolley wherever it will cause me the most grief.

But, there is something that really annoys me about Sainsbury’s Café and their delicious toasted teacake.

It’s the butter.

Nothing wrong with. It’s a good quality butter.

But, when they give it to you, it has come straight from the fridge.

It’s very, very cold.

As such, it won’t spread on the teacake, without ripping it to shreds. I have to put ‘chunks’ of butter on and then wait for it to melt, by which time my toasted teacake isn’t so toasty.

It’s a terrible, terrible thing.

Who’d want to live my life, eh?

It’s good to talk

My journey to work – as I’ve oft mentioned – is a horrible one and takes far longer than it damn well should.

Generally, to while away the time, I listen to podcasts.

But, a few weeks ago, I fitted a VHF/UHF radio transmitter in the car (that’s it in the picture above). This allows me to converse with other like-minded idiots as I travel.

And it’s amazing how much quicker the time flies when in conversation with someone.

I wish I’d done it years ago.

 

Not parched

Hydration is a big thing nowadays. It’s most important – apparently –  that we stay hydrated.

You’re not allowed to get thirsty anymore, apparently, so now everyone carries little bottles of water around with them.

At work, whenever we go into meetings, half the desk space is taken up by bottles of water because, it seems, no-one can go for an hour without needing to have a drink.

You could say I’m being hypocritical here as, whenever I go into a meeting, I’ll always take a cup of tea in with me. But I do  that, not because I might get thirsty, but because it’s tea. And of course, one should always take tea into meetings. It’s social etiquette.

And besides, someone might bring biscuits.

In the Gents toilet at work (I daresay it’s similar in the Ladies) we have a poster as shown, at reading height above each urinal.

I sometimes get strange looks as I stand there having a pee and say rather too loudly (and on purpose, of course), “Oh yes! Pale straw! Result!”

The times they are… have changed

“Learn anything good at school today?” is a question I ask the kids almost every night when I get home from work.
Most of the time, they can’t remember what they learnt and reply just with a surly grunt.

“Learn anything good at school today?” I asked thirteen year-old Harry, when I got in, this evening.  “Yep”, he replied promptly. “I learnt how to put a condom on”.
Well, that stopped me in my tracks, I can tell you.

“That’s, er, good” I said, trying to look unfazed and be cool about it. “I take it you didn’t actually put one on, but used a banana or cucumber?”

“Oh no”, he replied, “we used a dildo” Again, that stopped me in my tracks and I decided to leave it there.  The current Mrs Masher, however, was keen to hear more and pushed for more details.

“Well, we also learnt about various sexual diseases, like…” and he rattled off the names of several STDs.

“Anything else?”, Mrs M asked.

He thought for a moment. “Oh yeah, they showed us a femidom and showed us how that should be used and also, they showed us a plastic sheet that you put over your bum if you want to have anal sex.”

I got up out of the chair and went to make a cup of tea, leaving Mrs M to continue the interrogation.

I can remember the sex education that we got at school, back in nineteen filthy-lie. 
We were made to watch a video (a short film on a projector, as it was back then) in a darkened school hall, where we all giggled as naked pictures of men and women were shown to us, each with arrows pointing out their respective sexy bits.
Then, back in the classroom, we were all allowed to ask just one related question – anonymously, to save any embarrassment – by writing it on a piece of paper for the teacher to read out. I can’t remember exactly what my question was… something to do with breasts.

But I do remember the teacher reading it out and then looking straight at me as he answered it! 

And I remember going bright red with embarrassment.

I think I would have just curled up and died, if I’d been told to put a condom on a dildo!

Phoney

Yesterday, I twice saw mobile phones being used where they shouldn’t be.

The first was yesterday morning, when I was filling the car up with diesel. The chap at the pump in front of me was filling his white BMW X5. At the same time, he was talking on his mobile phone.

There are signs all over the forecourt saying that mobile phones should not be used. And he knew this. This wasn’t ignorance in his part, because he was doing it surreptitiously. With his back toward the attendant at the till, he was filling his car up with one hand, whilst the other held his phone hidden under his open jacket as he talked into it.

I finished what I was doing and drove off. As I passed slowly by him, I gave him a withering look. He looked up at me. “Really?” I said, shaking my head. He did nothing and just went back to his conversation.

Now, I know that operating a mobile phone in a petrol station, is unlikely to cause an explosion. In fact, I believe the main reason that phones should not be operated in that environment, is in case it is dropped and the battery becomes dislodged as it hits the ground, possibly causing a small spark. Again, it’s unlikely that anything would happen if that did occur. Unless there happened to be some spilled petrol on the floor, maybe.  So, the odds are low, but, should the right circumstances come together, the results could be quite catastrophic. Hence why you should NOT use your phone in a petrol station forecourt.

Even if you do own a BMW.

The second instance where I didn’t expect to see a mobile phone being used, was last night, when Mrs Masher and I went to the cinema in Hemel.  A homeless man was laid out in his tatty sleeping bag on the floor outside. Bits of detritus surrounded him:  pizza boxes; paper coffee cups and an upturned flat-cap with some loose change in it, all donated by kindly passers-by.

But, from the angle that Mrs M and I approached him, I could see that he was surreptitiously (again) holding a mobile phone inside his sleeping bag and was was busy texting someone.

I read somewhere that you shouldn’t give money to people sleeping rough, as they are most likely just going to just spend it all on drugs. I don’t know whether that’s true, but I didn’t give him any money as I didn’t want to contribute to his data plan.

Litter

I hate litter.

And I doubly hate litterers.

Last night, when I took the dog for her our evening walk, there were a couple of young lads sitting on the low metal fence that surrounds the green. They were talking loudly and stuffing biscuits and what-have-you down their gullets.

This morning, when I took the dog out for her our morning walk, I passed by the same area.  Biscuit wrappers and empty crisp packets littered the ground, where they had just dropped them and then wandered off. Pure laziness and a complete disregard for the area.

Annoyed at this, I stopped, picked it all up and put it in the bin… which was quite easy to do, as it was less than three metres away!

Something that annoys me just as much – or even more – is fly-tipping.

We have some beautiful country lanes around here and it really gets my blood pressure up when I’m driving/riding along one of them, and I see an old washing machine sitting by the side of the road – dumped there under the cover of darkness and left for the taxpayer to foot the bill for clearing it up and disposing of it properly.

At work, there is an alleyway that runs parallel with the train line at the back of our car park.  The alleyway has high fencing on either side of it.

And yet, someone has gone to a lot of effort to carry an old sofa down this alleyway – can’t have been easy, as it’s quite narrow – and then bodily lift it over a seven-foot high fence, in order to dump it on the grass verge next to the train tracks.  Again, all done in the middle of the night, probably.

It would have likely been easier to take it to the local Tidy Tip, which is about half a mile away.

I know there are fines for littering and also for fly-tipping, but it doesn’t seem to deter anyone as the chances of being caught are negligible.

A stronger penalty is needed, in order to make these people think again about what it is they are doing.

Death, maybe.

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