23 February 2013

Saturday Satire : Einstein's Theory

Albert Einstein used to go to dinners where he was invited to give a speech. One day, on his way to one of those dinners, he told his chauffeur (who looked exactly like him) that he was dead tired of giving the same speech, dinner after dinner.

"Well," said the chaffeur, "I've got a good idea. Why don't I give the speech since I've heard it so many times?'' So Albert's chauffeur gave the speech perfectly and even answered a few questions.

Then, a professor stood up and asked him a really tough question about anti-matter which the chauffeur couldn't answer"Sir, the answer to your question is so easy that I'll let my chauffeur answer it!"

22 February 2013

Brrr from Cornwall

We shouldn't complain, but we do.. we brits love the weather it is a great talking point and even the papers enter in to the spirit of the very britishness of discussing the weather we are experiencing...

Yes some peopl will say, it's winter, it's snow ... get over it.. but currently with the siberian blast over us (including us on the far west of the country, no where is warm... even the cat disdains the outside preferring to stay inside in the warm and dry.

I have to say in the past few days I have noticed more wheezing from my chest than is usual, but then one of my asthma triggers is the cold and being up early and taking the dogs out before work I then have to stand and wait for a bus but I recognise it isn't going to last and soon spring will start to weaver her magic.

I looked back at the history reels of the winter of 1963, and we have nothing like that for which I am grateful... yards of snow, and I mean yards not feet.... from boxing day until late March... unbelievable and I don't know how they managed back then but they did.

12 February 2013

Sadness in Kernow

Trevor Grills, one of the Fisherman's Friends died yesterday following a tragic accident at Guildford at the weekend. I loved his rendition of the Last Leviathan and this poem by John Masefield perfectly sums up for me the life of a fisherman.

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by

And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life
To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

To Trevor's family (and the fisherman's friends) my heartfelt sympathy, while at the moment the pain is very raw his memory will live long in his songs and the memories you have of him xx

09 February 2013

Saturday Satire : The Condom Factory

The largest condom factory in the States burned down. President Obama
was awakened at 4 am by the telephone.

... "Sorry to bother you at this hour, Sir, but there is an emergency!

I've just received word that the Durex factory in Washington has burned to the ground. It is estimated that the entire USA supply of condoms will be used up by the end of the week."

Obama: "Oh damn! The economy will never be able to cope with all those unwanted babies. We'll be ruined. We'll have to ship some in from Mexico...."

Telephone voice says, "Bad idea... The Mexicans will have a field day with this one. We'll be a laughing stock. What about the UK" ?

Obama: "Okay, I'll call Cameron and tell him we need five million condoms, ten inches long and three inches thick. That way, they'll continue to respect us as Americans."

Three days later, a delighted President Obama ran out to open the first of the 10,000 boxes that had just arrived. He found it full of condoms, 10 inches long and 3 inches thick, exactly as requested...

All coloured with Union Jacks with small writing on each one:


04 February 2013

Memories of Back of Beyond

I read another blog 'It happens in Cranfield' as this is where I used to live and it is one way of keeping in touch with what is going on at the back of beyond.

In one post, the author talks about the local dialect, and we have got into a discussion about the old Cranfield broad accent which I remember was spoken by my grandfather. The first time I really remember visting them was before we left for Malaya as our dog Lady was being rehomed with one of my Dad's cousins Cyril who lived in Brogbrough - unfortunately while we were out in Malaya, Lady was run over on the main road; I am not certain of the details.

My grandmother, or Nanna I think I called her was a lovely lady who before we left slipped a 10 shilling note to both me and my brother - I didn't realise at the time what this had probably cost her I just remember thinking how lucky I was - so shallow when I was young.

My grandad was a tall man, over 6ft tall and very thin and lanky. I remember him as being quite stern and mostly he ignored us.

It would be another 5 years before I saw him again, my Nanna had died while we were based in Germany and while Dad had flown back for her last days and funeral we had remained in Detmold.

On our return to the UK, we left in December and our new quarters were not available until January so we used our caravan to spend a few (rather frosty) weeks in on a campsite just up the road from Grandad. One evening we were detailed to spend an evening with him, while mum and dad went out somewhere.. and this is where it gets quite funny. I was 14 almost 15 and Zeltus was 16 going on 17 I think.

Grandad had a very broad accent, and neither Zeltus nor myself could make much sense of it. We used the tone of his voice to help us decide whether it was a question or a statement, if it were a question we used to guess at either Yes or No, and a statement we used to just nod and get him to continue.

This is how we managed to drink his entire stock of peach brandy (not the strong stuff) and make headway into the cherry brandy.. as his questions were presumably do you want a drink?... It was only later as an adult I thought about what he must have thought of us and realised we probably seemed dull of understanding, not realising there was a language barrier.

Dad when he came home was also a bit worse the wear for alcohol, Mum was driving so was probably the only one sober out of the three. Poor grandad came in for a bit of a verbal bashing, and never again did he offer us a drink, and gradually we came to understand more than one word in three.

Sadly, the strong accent seems to have died out completely, although pronunciation of village names has remained. The next village to Cranfield is Salford (not Salford as in nr Manchester) but a silent L means this is pronounced Safford... confusing to those not from the local area.

Living down here at the Edge of the World, I have learnt a whole new language and pronunciations and similar to the Back of Beyond what you see isn't always how it is said.

02 February 2013

Saturday Satire : The Burglar's Tale

A burglar broke into a house one night. He shined his flashlight around, looking for valuables, and when he picked up a CD player to place in his pack, a strange, disembodied voice echoed from the dark saying, "Jesus is watching you."

He nearly jumped... out of his skin, clicked his flashlight out, and froze. When he heard nothing more after a bit, he shook his head, promised himself a vacation after the next big score, then clicked the light on and began searching for more valuables. Just as he pulled the stereo out so he could disconnect the wires, clear as a bell he heard,

"Jesus is watching you." Freaked out, he shone his light around frantically, looking for the source of the voice. Finally, in the corner of the room, his flashlight beam came to rest on a parrot. "Did you say that?", he hissed at the parrot.

"Yep," the parrot confessed, then squawked, "I'm just trying to warn you."

The burglar relaxed. "Warn me, huh? Who in the world are you?"

"Moses," replied the bird.

"Moses?" the burglar laughed. "What kind of people would name a birdMoses?"

"The kind of people that would name a Rottweiller Jesus."