A mystery solved

While out and about recently I'd noticed that certain folks were under dressed. Under dressed as in, 'it ain't that warm why are you wearing so little?' Then, after a while, it dawned on me. The under dressed were almost all heavily tattooed. What was more important to them, was showing the world their tattoos and not how cold they were.
Personally I'm not keen on tats and my dislike started when David Beckham started several years ago. I can understand the odd, out of the way tattoo, administered when you are young and foolish and probably pissed, but not the heavy all over 'body art' that you'd wish you had never had done when you get to old age.
Spare me all the socio mumbo jumbo about body art over the ages and freedom of expression, it just doesn't look too good. I can only assume that the man above is self employed. YMMV.

Doctor bloody Who

A long time ago, when I was young, I watched and enjoyed Dr Who. It was, and still is, a sci-fi children's programme with lots of goodies and baddies, implausible plots, a stupid 'time machine the tardis,' and just a hint of sex.
50 years later it is still going strong and it is still a children's programme. Why do the BBC trail this bloody programme as if it's some great meaningful blockbuster. We have been reminded time after time that the next series starts on August 26th with the latest incarnation of 'The Doctor' and his sidekick. They will no doubt face the latest new evil characters as they travel through time and space and will of course exit victorious. I'm sure that children will enjoy it but surely it gets puffed out of all proportion? 

A visitor from the far east

Josh, one of Jan's sons, visited briefly over the weekend. He came over from Hong Kong with his girlfriend Elisha and treated us to an outstanding meal at The Yorke Arms. Excellent.

50 Shades

To see what this book would look like if written by a man, copy and paste this link:

http://www.tickld.com/x/if-50-shades-of-grey-was-written-by-a-man

No 36

Ever since I've been an adult I'd heard a lot about No 69 and, whilst I could appreciate its direction, I've always wanted to try a No 36.

After a bit of deliberation and being mature adults, we decided to let our inhibitions go and decided to partake of the pleasure. The journey had a mostly up and down sensation, quite a bumpy ride, reminiscent of a poorly sprung car and, at the end, I felt slightly nauseous.

Upstairs was the place to be, I've always like upstairs.

The first session took about 40 minutes then we stopped for a breather, something to eat and started again after a couple of hours. The second session was a bit quicker and seemed over before we knew it but then we already had a good idea of what to expect.

Jan has tried it before on her own however this was my first ever use of my free bus pass. The journey between Ripon and Harrogate will never be the same again.

Eastbourne

When visiting Brighton recently we also visited a friend in Eastbourne. Seeing as they're two seaside towns about 30 minutes apart on the same coast, it's difficult not to compare the two. Both towns have similar grand buildings on or near the seafront but Eastbourne somehow feels smarter, nicer in most departments.

I suspect that because Brighton has quicker links to London it attracts lots of wealthy and poor Londoners (whoops now I'm going to upset Londoners) and, as a University town, it has lots of students. Superficially at least, Eastbourne seems to be less scruffy, less 'vibrant' and cater for a better class of folks (like me). For a person who doesn't like the term 'class' that grates as I say it.

The evening that we were there, a really good brass band played on the sea front and turned a mundane promenade into something quite pleasurable. 

God, I'm getting old.  

Seems appropriate

I must admit I'm not a big fan of Brighton. I'm probably just prejudiced but rumours about it being the drug capital of England and some of the other things I've seen and heard about the place leave me feeling rather negative.
We have kids who live with their families and work there so we visit.

The picture below made me laugh and it seemed to confirm my prejudice. Never mind having an open topped rubbish bin sitting outside houses, they also ask people not to sleep in them.

Apologies to the residents of Brighton. I know you are nice folks really.

My new job on a market stall

I've just been inundated with one request to start posting again. I have to admit that from time to time Jan turns to me and says, 'you should blog that.' I've been so sorely tempted that now I've done it.

This morning is a good example. I'm standing at our fruit and veg stall in the market and I noticed two of the serving lads eyeing a very voluptuous young woman standing in the queue. I smiled knowingly at one of them and he said, 'my mate's missus has just chucked him out so he's a bit lonely.'

I smiled and nodded in agreement, trying to stay on the right side of the man who was adding up our bill, 'she's very attractive and well stacked,' I said.

He laughed and without missing a beat he said, 'with an attitude like that you could could have a job here.' I was very flattered.

Sayonara

A good friend wrote to me recently asking if I was OK. Which made me think that I've treated my loyal readers pretty shabbily by stopping posting without saying goodbye. I'm sorry.
My first ever post was in January 2005 and now, nine years later, I think I've run out of steam. I have always felt that 'the something to say' should be meaningful or amusing or both. The move to France always brought something interesting, for me and hopefully for others, but the move back to the UK and its familiar territory less so.
I share the occasional thing on Facebook but that's about it, so thank you for taking the time to read all this rubbish and I wish you all a happy and fulfilling life.

A mystery

It might be a symptom of this time of the year or something we don't understand but Jan received a card the other day with a note on the back saying don't open until the 30th.
We were both intrigued but not wishing to spoil whatever was in store we waited until 30th. When Jan opened it the puzzle deepened. The envelope was postmarked Swindon and neither of us knows anyone that lives there (or thereabouts) and the birthday card was signed Pat. Jan knows a couple of Pats but they don't live in Swindon and Jan's birthday is in March. So Pat, if by some coincidence you are reading this, thank you and Happy New Year.