Train To Wiltshire

I’m in Wiltshire for a couple of days which meant that I had to catch the Cardiff train.
I’ve bitched about this train before, really busy service so they only put three coaches.
As you all know I’m not actually the most social of people, especially with ‘the public’.
I’ve discovered a great way of keeping other passengers away from me and more importantly, from talking to me.

I took the cover of a Gideon bible I liberated from a hotel
(The pages are brilliant in case of dire Rizla emergencies. I’ve smoked the whole of St Paul. Wanker. But I digress) and put it over the book I’m reading!
Not a Fecker would sit anywhere near me, even the couple who had actually booked the seats looked and moved on!
It works even better than smiling manically and patting the seat next to you.

I’ll catch up in a few days.

June Eleventh

The fucking window cleaners woke me up yet again!
The closed curtains must still be too subtle a hint.
I asked how much.
“A fiver babe”
‘What? It was four quid last time’
“Yeah, it’s gone up. I told you last time”
‘No you fucking didn’t. Last time you were bullshitting me that you ran a monthly service when I hadn’t seen you for 3!’
He tried to stare me out.
Can you believe it?
Fool.
I had been awake under two minutes, didn’t have my specs on and used to have ‘Staring’ competitions with the sister when we were grounded.
He looked away first.
‘So, it’s 4 quid this time and five when I see you in three months’.
“It’s a monthly service” he insisted.
I shook my head and said,
‘Let’s not get started on that one again’.
I made sure I gave him a 5 pound note AND waited for the change.
Knob.

I haven’t spoken to my sister in nearly six years over the theft of £5000
Check out Prince Jefri!
Are you really ‘on the run’ if you have £3 billion? And just how pissed off is his brother?!
I’m bitter and twisted about five grand but would never take it near a court.
Just cut them out of my life.
I have learned from it though, never again will I fall out with someone over money.
The loss of money is nothing.

I surfed in to this last night and as an experiment put all the sweeties I wanted in the basket.
Over £65!
I don’t fecking think so.

June Tenth

Check it out!
One of the MANY baby newts that are sharing my Bucket Pond with the tadpoles.
Annie the Frog has reappeared and I’m delighted.
She better start tucking herself into the fucking slugs pretty swiftish!
Apparently they don't like slithering over crushed shell.
I'm going to crush up the shells of the snails I've dispatched and use them.
I thought they also might serve as a sinister warning to those still living and munching in the garden.
Bastards.

Spare a thought for the Sassy one.
While on a trip to our nation’s capital, some fucker stole her bag.
Fortunately it was her overnight bag; they got away with her ipod, sunglasses and from her description some underwear that was so rank in nature it had no business travelling home anyway!
Even on Network South!
Although, I do have an image in my head of an overweight, hirsute, Eastern European bloke, prancing around in front of a mirror in Sassy’s “Little bit of ‘lastic and her little bit of lace”!

Today I discovered if you put my name in to a Facebook search it becomes immediately apparent that I am totally the wrong colour for my name.
I have Race Dysphoria! I'm trapped in the wrong skin tone!

Questions

Where have all the Proper Pikey’s gone?
Not those who want to tarmac your drive or buy any ‘scrap’ gold you may have.
(Scrap gold? Whoever heard of such a thing?)
I mean the ones who used to knock the door and ask if you needed knives or scissors sharpening. I had to teach myself how to get an edge on garden shears from the interwebs.
Most dangerous it was.

Many, many things are sprouting in the Sleepy Mansions Urban Allotment.
Self seeded tomato plants are springing up all over the place.
I leave them until they are about 5 inches tall then stick them in a pot.
It feels wrong just to uck ‘em out when they have fought so hard to survive.
There is also an element of Darwinism in their selection.
A wide variety of toms have been eaten by this house, and composted, so I’m hoping for a bit of variety in the seedlings.
If you visit, expect to leave with one.

The best exchange of the day happened to the Tame Pharmacist.
A customer came in with a walking stick and a limp.
TP enquired as to the problem and was told that although the foot was injured, the problem was dental.
A joke was made along the lines of, ‘Oh, the top and the bottom’,
To which the customer replied,
“Yeah! Face, Feet and Fanny… They all go when you’re Fifty!”
Cracker!

Today my Grandmother would have celebrated her Eighty Ninth birthday.
She has been gone 25 years but I think about her nearly every day, especially when I am cooking.
I often wonder what our relationship as adults would have been like.
What would she have thought about my life?
Without a doubt she would have had an opinion!
I also think about all the questions I would love to have asked her.
Questions I wouldn’t have dared to ask as a child. Questions that I didn’t have back then.
If you had the chance to ask one question of a relative who has died,
Who would you ask and what would the question be?


Ex-Housemate Mikey got his Masters today!!
Whoo Hoo!
Phd next.
Well Done mate!

My Day, With Pictures.

Check it out!
I'm not sure it counts as a 'Crop' but I am claiming it as such.
The first crop of Sleepy Mansions radishes!.









Then there was this.
Which instantly made me think,


".... And what the fuck were you munching before you underwent the makeover?!..."






I love Foxgloves.
I collected the seeds from the Wiltshire countryside last year, threw them around while pissed one night; and Ta Da!
One grew.
Nestled right in with the Pear Tree!








Sassy came for tea and we tucked into the Madeira cake we couldn't manage yesterday.
Very, Very Yum!

Euro Birthday

Today is Sassy’s birthday!
This evening we have celebrated with what can only be described as, ‘Traditional English Birthday Tapas’.
The stuff of our youth. Check it out!
Shipham’s paste sandwiches, cheese and pineapple on sticks, jelly, blancmange, ice cream, Fairy cakes and all the trimmings.
Most importantly chocolate fingers!
Housemate Claire made a Madeira cake but we were all too bloated to attempt it.

Joy abounds at Sleepy Mansions.
My football void is filled, for a few weeks at least.
Euro 2008 started today.
I’m kind of relieved England didn’t qualify, there’s no stress; or any of the other home nations come to that.
It’s worse if a couple of them are in, all of a sudden people start claiming Scottish, Welsh, and Irish heritage out of the blue.
“But your surname is Singh?!”
‘Yeah. We’re the Dublin/Cardiff/Glasgow Singh’s innit? One of the Uncles emigrated from Slough.’
I have decided to follow the Czech Republic, Croatia and Poland.
The ‘Tractor Factory’ teams as Sassy calls them.
Although I did notice there were a disturbing number of ‘headbands’ on show in the Czech team.
A bit of a worry.

The Big little Brother came round last night.
We smoked, drank, philosophised, exchanged music and I took photos of him playing my guitar.
I took a shot of my Grandfather strumming on his guitar in 1988; I wanted to see if I could get an almost identical shot of his Grandson 20 years later.
I think I have almost got it.
I’ll scan the other one and frame them up together for him.

Grrrrr Day

My day started pretty grumpily.

Housemates, if you now find yourself reaching for sunglasses when you enter the bathroom, that’ll be because the suite is actually fucking white.
Surprise!
You see people, the yellow spray bottle labelled “Flash” isn’t a suggestion it’s a cleaning product.
Grrr.

After one of the Housemates hogged the washing machine ALL DAY yesterday, I stopped her at the top of the stairs today.
“Oi! No chance mate! You beat me to it twice yesterday, my turn.”
The ’black wash’, being the largest pile, went first.
As soon as I opened the door I saw the carnage that is “Kleenex” and it wasn’t mine.

Grrrr.

Then to tip me right over the fecking edge in to utter rage.
Was this.

I lift the washing up bowl to find this stinking under the wire fucking plate drainer thing!
What the fuck is that about?
Raw liver?
I swear on all that’s holy, if I find out that was pig product I will go fucking postal.
The whole kitchen has been bleached in to submission.

GRRRRRR!
And……. Rest…….

I got stoned and retired to the garden to fume; it seemed the only sensible thing to do.
Combining my recycling jag with the weed I came up with this.
Pot Head!

It comes with a lid for night time while seedlings are small.

I am looking in to all sorts of recycling ideas but this is fecking awesome.

The Weekend

Yesterday, Mr and Mrs Next Door Without the Kids, invited the inhabitants of Sleepy Mansions round for dinner.
Homemade Chinese food with a seafood theme.
(Prawns, Scallops, Fresh Sea Bass and Squid!)
I hate Chinese food and am allergic to seafood but a free dinner is a free dinner!
The thing is I LOVE scallops and squid.
I will eat them in the certain knowledge that within 2 hours I will be hurling them up.
It’s all over very quickly and the nausea is fleeting.
I also hope that eventually I will build up a resistance to them.
It was a splendid meal and a cracking night.

Today, Housemate Claire did the Race for Life.
I have never been more proud of a friend than I am today and got quite emotional about it.
Especially since the last lot of treatment wiped her out and the PICC line has been giving her a huge amount of discomfort.
During the week she mentioned that Rib of Beef was her favourite cut of meat, ever.
So I got some for today’s dinner as a treat. (Check it out! From a Proper butcher and everything!)
Oh My!
What an amazing tasting roast dinner we had.
Sassy joined us, with a wicked Cheesecake she had made and a cheeky Muscadet.
We scoffed, drank, grooved to tunes, delighted in the fact Schnee will be here for her birthday celebrations and laughed.
Laughed lots.

Check out the Slug Pub!
Works really well. They are loving Death By Budweiser!

Injuries

The day started well.
A delivery from Amazon and then an instant dilemma.
They have sent two copies of the same book, The Romanov Prophesy by Steve Berry.
They haven’t charged me for it so my problem is, send it back or register it at Bookcrossing and ‘release’ it.

At last my Chilli seeds have sprouted.
I was starting to think about giving up on them but I’m so glad I didn’t.
As an experiment I planted a couple of seeds from a butternut squash we had a couple of weeks ago, amazingly they have come up.
Now I have to learn about their cultivation and see if they will grow ‘upwards’.
I’m sure it can be done.

This afternoon I got out a bottle I’d been saving for its unusual shape.
I had a ‘garden’ idea for it.
It had a collar on it, that half metal half lead like stuff round the neck
“A steak knife will go through that fecker like butter”, I thought and set about it.
It went through something all right.
The big fleshy bit below my thumb and out just under the webbed bit.
It bled like a Prince of Russia.
The knife was serrated so pulling it out removed what can only be described as ‘Innards’ or ‘Giblets’.
Somehow I got it all back in.
Disturbingly, when I looked for the knife I discovered that, in shock, I had returned it to the knife block!
I ‘phoned the Tame Pharmacist and explained the situation, adding that it being a Friday I didn’t fancy a trip to A&E.
Stitches were brought home and Rambo like repairs took place by the pond with me swinging from Tortuga Rum (Thanks Sassy!) and toking on Holland’s finest.
It aches like a bastard and there is some considerable swelling.
The shocker is this isn’t the first time I’ve needed stitching due to trying to remove this bit from a bottle.
The last time I hit a finger.
Ironically, I’ve been using a chisel for the last few days and have been waiting for just such an injury.

I saw this soon after and it did nothing to improve my mood.
They are such Wankers.
Come on! We want more of this despotic shit so more people leave and the Church HAS to change.
Especially seeing as there are now probably more breeding Pandas than there are priests.

I have seen Crisp-e today and in keeping with our usual ’High Brow’ conversation, Slug slime and wet toilet wipes were hot topics!

Chives And Roman Invasion

I Did have some Chive seeds to plant but absolutely no deferred gratification!

So, the Chives you see are a Waitrose special.

There is Spearmint in the wooden pot and Parsley in the terracotta one.

I also got rid of the Euphorbia today.

It was getting big and near to seeding.

Following Sassy's advice about the general Pikey nature of Euphorbia, it's gone.

It was an experiment. I'd never seen one full grown and was curious.

Now I have!

It has been replaced with a Canary Palm thing, which is fecking vicious.

I have sliced my hands on the leaves, spiteful bastard!

I love it.

It may not stay where it is, but for the moment it's cool.

I've also discovered that some of the snails I have been 'rehoming' are quite rare in my area and are protected throughout Europe.

Ooops!

Helix Pomatia.

These are the L'esgargot that French People like.

Eating something equipped with a 'Love Dart'?

The Dirty Bastards.

They were brought to Britain, two and a half thousand years ago by the Romans; allegedly.

They left my garden yesterday, via an over arm throw administered by me.

Not a Roman.

Recycling The Bank Holiday

The dreary start to the Bank Holiday meant that I was stoned before breakfast!
This led to Early Onset ‘Carpentry’.
Made worse when the day started to cheer up.
These are the legs to an old garden table. I unscrewed the caps on the bottom, cut a couple of them down a bit and sunk them in to the ground.
I’ve stuck a Strawberry in one and Oregano in the other.
The two either end are going to have chives in.
It’s an experiment!
The table top is now providing a sturdy, level base for the mini greenhouse thing.
I have also been doing unspeakable things to slugs and snails.
I tried drowning them in a bucket.
Not wholly successful or guilt free.
I’ve resorted to the old method of, “Throw Them As Far A Possible”.

My inner conspiracy theorist was tweaked this evening.
The interwebs went down, alleged Virgin updates.
My mobile phone wouldn’t work; allegedly the network was too busy.
But the TV worked, I have access to what ever “they” pipe in to my television.
Mmmmmm..
What are you hiding from me?

Choons And Chocolate

The complete and utter bollocks that is the Eurovision Song Contest was on this evening.
I gave it a huge body swerve.
The only highlight, if it can be called a highlight is hearing Wogan getting steadily more pissed and insulting.
So, with that in mind, my post is mainly music related.

This is my tune of the day. (“Hey! Ebo! Ebo Ebonettes!)
I was about 13 when this came out.
Thank Christ the skipping never took off over here; it was bad enough with ‘Fame’ and fecking leg-warmers.
You will probably hate yourself for tapping your foot to this but I bet you do!
Best pop use of Steel Drums, Ever!
This was a song sung when we were in the car as kids.
5 kids, work tools and a dog in the back of a Robin Reliant, (Ours looked like this but was blue!)
Step Mum and Dad in front.
With Dad moaning,
“Five of ‘em Joon!, Five of the feckers, and not a bastard one of ‘em can carry a fucking tune!”
He’d put up with it for a short time before his knuckles would whiten on the steering wheel and he would roar,
“Shut Up! You Fuckers! My ears will bleed. Joon, Stop Them!”
This would elicit raucous laughter from us!
Superb use of lyrics that you don’t have to pay for.

Another legacy from this time are Chas and Dave.
That song was a particular favourite.
When the car was stolen Dad was livid because he lost their cassette.
Never mentioned the car.
Although none of my siblings care to admit it, we all have their Greatest Hits in our collections.
It is just SO our Dad, and brings back great childhood memories!

This evening has being spent at Mr & Mrs Crisp-e’s.
It’s Mrs Crisp-e’s birthday celebration.
There are way too many Taurean /Gemini types in my circle!
Weirdly, I’m all right with the fellow Taurean’s, it’s the Gemini’s that are the worry!
ATM’s a Gemini.
They half frighten me, half freak me out and if we are using ‘Maury’ stats, they half incite me to violence!

Sweeties have been discussed this evening.
I believe sweeties, ‘Candy’, whatever you call it, is so very personal.
Revels.
Now, Revels are a mixture of all sorts of sweets.
Nastiness sold in a chocolate guise.
Nothing is recognisable other than the Minstrel.
Chocolate blobs.
Fruit hidden in chocolate.
My point was that the ‘Malteser’ used in the Revel mix was basically the ‘spastic malteser’.
The one that was slightly too oddly shaped to make it in to the actual Malteser packet.
The Moomim Malteser.
Now, this is how politically correct we have become.
Referring to a Malteser, A FUCKING SWEETIE, as a spastic stopped conversation dead and brought about gasps.
This was amongst people who have known me for years and know how inept I am!
Spastic is now a word I can’t use with very close friends.

How long will it take for words referring to my sexual preference to become as equally unacceptable?

Lot's Chavs

Anyone who knows me will know I’m not a ‘handbag’ person.
The polar opposite in fact.
So you can imagine my surprise when I received the pictured bag as a Secret Santa gift.
However, the sentiment on the bag is spot on!
It’s plastic and won’t degrade so I decided to put it to a ‘green’ use.
Now it is home to a Trailing Lobelia!

This afternoon I had an experience that I would count as being ‘Particularly Pompey’.
I’ll set the scene.
3.50pm at a busy traffic crossroads.
Him.. Skinny, tattooed, white teeshirt, blue tracksuit trousers and white trainers.
Heroin Chic.
Her.. Small, dumpy, clothes a size too small and looks twenty years older than she probably is.
Turkey Twizzler Chic.
Both reek of booze.
His name seemed to be, “Please Babe” and hers was “You Thick Shit”.
This had to be shouted right in her ear.

I just knew they would be going my way and tried to let them get ahead of me.
Unfortunately the constant stopping to scream, “You Thick Shit” was slowing them down and I started to catch up.
The trick in these situations is to make no eye contact, with either of them.
This is difficult because she, in particular, will be trying to catch your eye.
He will be looking at you to see if there is any kind of sympathy for her or judgement for him.
Either could end up with you being dragged in to the situation.

Here is where you adopt what I call ‘Deaf Man’s Stare”.
Your face has to be devoid of expression and you stare at a point 100 metres in front of them.
Pretending you can't hear a word.
Most importantly keep walking and don’t look back.
This is the most dangerous time.
He will be waiting for that glance over your shoulder.
This is when he is likely to strike with the,
“What! What are you fuckin’ lookin’ at? You fuckin’ want some?”
Remain strong, think of Lot and DO NOT look back!

Service Resumed

After almost a fortnight weed free. Normal service has resumed.
Thank G-d.
Having to use man made painkillers has left me in all sorts of trouble.
The main problem being they do bugger all for the pain and wrecks my internal workings.
Both make me extraordinarily grumpy and bad tempered.

This has cracked me up!
It really isn’t any wonder some of them preferred to remain anonymous.
I won’t be entering.
The one photo I have of myself is a testament to another age.
A time when photographing your children stark bollock naked seemed to be all the rage and didn’t get you arrested.
Family albums would suggest that until the age of three I was naked or partially clad most of the time.
I remember hating shoes and refusing to wear them, I don’t recall hating clothes.
Except dresses.
Well, that’s that one answered!

I know I’ve mentioned this to Sassy.
I’m convinced Avram Grant should be in a Scooby Doo cartoon being unmasked as the ‘baddy’.

Ho Hum.
Back to the weed!

May Twentieth

Almost everything today has conspired to piss me off.
Starting with Home Delivery Network.
Whoever they are.

I was sat in my front room and saw the delivery van pull up outside.
The driver got out and knocked a door across the road.
He then came and put a “Sorry you weren’t in, left parcel with neighbour” card through the door and ran, yes RAN back to his van.
I opened the door and shouted to him as he tried to drive away,
“Why didn’t you knock the door?”
He replied that he did and ‘you weren’t in’.
“I fucking obviously am! I watched you. You came nowhere near the house.”
He drove of at speed. Must have been because his pants were on fire.
Lying fucking wanker!

So I ‘phoned the company and complained.
I will ‘phone again tomorrow and complain and will keep doing so until I get some sort of ‘compensation’.
I should have checked out this site earlier in the day.
Then I would have been ready for him, on a multilingual level!
So, just to reiterated, Home Delivery Network are untrustworthy liars.

The other thing that has pissed me off today and has for quite some time is the total inability to buy a ripe Avocado.
If you want to eat anything Avocado related you have to plan your meal about 10 days in advance and buy frigging bananas to speed up the process.
I really object to having to pay an extra £1.25 for ripe ones.
Fecking huge rip off.
If they CAN supply ripe ones, why should I pay a premium for them?

May Nineteenth

On my way back from the shops this morning I was accosted by a bloke who started jabbering away to me in Polish.
I stood shaking my head saying, “English. I speak English”.
He took a step back with a look of shock on his face.
Then he called his friend over, who fortunately did speak English.
He explained the where looking for directions to a road. I told them where it was then asked why his friend had spoken Polish to me if he had an English speaker with him.
He told me that his friend was absolutely convinced I was Polish and still was!
“You look Polish! You look so familiar to us!”
He then went on to say that they hoped I wasn’t offended.
I told him that one of my Great Grandfather’s was Polish, which he translated to his friend.
More excited Polish.
“My friend says He knew it!”
A bizarre start to the day.

My little ‘bucket’ pond was getting some nasty, slimey green algae in it.
Crisp-e recommended buying a barley straw thing to go in there. Apparently it helps with the problem.
I had some straw that the tortoises used to sleep in, so I stuffed it in one of those net things that you get onions in and sank it in the pond.
It works a treat!
The water has cleared, the slimey shit has gone and I can see to the bottom.
There is a Newt down there!
Nice tip Crisp-e and thank you.

Spare a thought for poor old Kenny the cat.
He has sunburn!
The pink bits around his nose and lips are swollen and sore.
I have tried to get cream on him but the git licks it off.
Any tips or ideas will be gratefully received.

May Eighteenth

After yesterday’s festivities I managed to drag my arse from bed and went to Mass.
I always thought that the time before it actually started was for saying your prayers and getting your head in the right place.
I really object to this period being used for us to practise the bloody hymns.
Choose fucking hymns everyone knows to begin with you wankers.

There was a Food Festival on this weekend and I had a trundle down there at lunchtime.
It was superb!
There were loads of stalls and farmer’s market type things going on.
I’ve got myself a Hungarian Black Chilli plant which I can’t wait to see in fruit.
I was very tempted by a huge Paella pan but seeing as I don’t like the shitey stuff it would have been a bit of a waste of shekels.
Still, a nice looking pan though!
I got Crisp-e an excellent apron. He doesn’t like the one he has got; apparently it’s a bit Poncey!

This afternoon Sassy, The Tame Pharmacist and I went down to the Common to see the Pompey FA Cup winning side.
As it turned out we saw sweet FA and heard even less!
But it was great to be there and be part of it.
It only happens every 70 years!
The BBC news claims 200 000 people were out to see them.
There are only 200 000 people in the city so I kind of doubt their figures.

Why aren’t the United Nations doing anything about Burma?
I thought one of their purposes was to protect people from their governments?
It’s a fecking disgrace.
A sniff of oil and the Septics would be all over it like a rash.

May Seventeenth

Today I have been at my Dad’s celebrating his 60th birthday and my niece’s 13th, it was brilliant!
I met my 6 week old nephew, Ronnie, for the first time and he is an absolute cutie.
(That’s him with my Dad)
I even held him! Something I don’t usually do.
To me they are ‘boring’ until they can do something, like talk.
Surprisingly, for one who carries the Sleepy gene he actually DOES sleep.

We did a “This Is Your Life” thing for my Dad.
We had photos, music and a newspaper from the day he was born.
I think he liked it, he cried a lot which is usually a good sign!

On top of the joy of being with my family, Portsmouth won the FA Cup!
The city is on an absolute high.
Everyone out and about this evening is singing, smiling and dressed in blue.

Fantastic.

To my Cardiff supporter friend, Rhys... Sorry Mate.

Here is the Birthday Boy and Girl!

Happy Birthday to you both.

May Thirteenth

Kenneth the Cat has always been one on his own.
I’ve never encouraged any of the felines to be ‘Lap Cats’ but Kenny won’t even be picked up.
He just doesn’t like it. He bitches, scratches, growls and whines to get away.
As I let him jump from my arms this evening with a resounding,
“Be nice! I fecking feed you! Ungrateful fucker!”
Mr Next Door With The Kids said,
“Yeah, and stop bullying our cat.”
What do you say to that?
I wanted to respond,
‘And your point? Your poncey cat wants to butch himself up a bit. Bloody Poof! That’s what happens if you take a cat to France for several years. Ruins ‘em so it does!’
I didn’t.
I apologised! I fucking apologised for my cat!
A creature beyond training or ‘owning’.

Happy 21st to niece Sinead.

May Twelfth

‘Sex can become like a drug’
Really?
Thank Christ they got an expert on the subject to tell us!
Can somebody not shut this bloke up?
Really?

Nice to know a high profile Catholic has no problem using contraception or being open about it, except when staying with the Queen.
Strangely, she has no such shame about shagging there though!

As many of you know, I am a fan of Prince Phillip.
I think the bloke is great and it helps that he is almost an exact replica of my Grandfather!
Tonight there was the first part of a documentary about his life on TV.
Sir Trevor McDonald doing the honours, so plenty of opportunity for him to put his foot in it.
I like the bloke even more now and make no apologies for it.
They don’t make them like him anymore.

“The term ‘hero’ irritates me greatly. The opposite is true. I continue to have pangs of conscience that I did so little.”
Irena Sendler.
They don’t make them like her anymore.
A Hero.
May she rest in peace.