Happy Christmas

Jan seems to think that I'm a miserable sod at Christmas but judging at the look of utter joy with her present this year I'd beg to differ.

The end of an era

Our second Beauceron 'Minnie' (on the left) died on Saturday bringing to an end fifteen years of joy given to us by our two dogs. She lived to the ripe old age of 14 years and 3 months. Quite unusual for a 40 kilos+ dog. We miss them both enormously and had no idea how they would affect us. We now have a big gap in our lives.

Are you Waspi?

I've got an idea, instead of talking about paying money to all the Waspi women, hows about paying all the men who had to work longer and retire five years later than women? It would get my vote.

Woke or not?

Something that happened on breakfast tv this morning coalesced certain thoughts that I have been having over the last few weeks/months.
Thought one is my view of the danger that 'young people' don't see of a Marxist government. I lived at the time of militant in Liverpool and the ongoing strikes during labour governments of the 70's and the mess that they left behind. A time when we had no electricity for days on end.
Thought two was at a recent visit to friends when I mentioned that a young twenties very educated woman was very woke. She looked at me as if I was talking a foreign language and had never heard the term.
Thought three was this young, six person female group on the television this morning and the presenter said that their video had a 'mad max' feel about it. They all went quiet and obviously didn't know what he was talking about.
These folks can all vote now but they have little or no sense of history or even modern terms. I find that very scary. It explains why the socialists want to reduce the voting age to 16.

Hero of State

I might just have managed a bit of hero worship from my boss and mentor Jan. I have girded my loins (not as painful as you might think) and started killing the rats in our garden.
A few weeks ago I was sitting and looking at the bird table when I noticed a rat climb up the camellia bush and then leap about a meter onto the bird table. What a good effort I said to myself but it was more difficult to convince Jan. A few years back we had rats in the garden and the local rat man said that living where we do (near the countryside) we would always be exposed to them and not to worry but put down bait boxes. Yet another skill I've learnt!
Anyway I was checking the boxes this  morning and nearly jumped a mile as I opened one box to be confronted by a dying but still breathing rat. I did jump a bit, not more than a meter high, but secretly earned appreciation of her indoors. I think!

Feeling Funny

Strange how it is to break silly habits. Like when I look at a web page and then have to scroll back to the top before I shut the page. Or point the remote at the new sky box which now operates using Bluetooth. That is so difficult!

Anyway we went to see The Irishman the other night and both really enjoyed it. A film about 'our time' well acted but just a little too long. 

It's Me not You

I've had a myriad of small niggling computer problems just recently and I'm not sure exactly why. I suspect it's a bit of software that is affecting other software and I might have just narrowed it down but I'm not sure. It could of course be me being stupid which some might say is a given or my PC just coming to the end of its useful life (like me) but again I'm not too sure. I've had the machine for four years so it shouldn't be that, so more likely to be software. My latest thought is that there's a conflict between Kaspersky and Malwarebytes, we'll see.

How Cool

So we're in the market as usual on Thursday when I spotted the above. It's a mobile male hairdresser complete with barbers chair etc. How cool is that!

Joke

An Irishman, Scotsman and Welshman all go to the pub.
However the Englishman can't go because he is still in Japan.

University or not?

We were in a phone shop sorting out a new phone for Jan and being helped by a very nice young woman. Let's call her S.
S, who was a really pleasant and very efficient person, helped us enormously and during the process mentioned that she had been to university.
It dawned on me that she had maybe wasted the time and hadn't needed to go. If a job selling phones is the best that you can get after three years at uni then you have to consider whether she could have spent that time more wisely. When you add in the cost of the degree she might have been better advised to follow vocational employment.
In a previous life I interviewed a lot of graduates expecting a little bit extra but frankly I wouldn't have let some of them walk my dog.

Gone all Mexican

Jan, or Juanita as she is now known, made huevos rancheros for breakfast this morning.
How exotic is that?

The Miracle Worker

Some people might think it was coincidence but I'm not so sure. Whilst out for a walk with Min a woman with two dogs stopped me and asked if I'd seen a brown cocker. It had been gone for an hour after running off to chase a rabbit. The lady was quite distressed. It was raining and I was in no mood to hang about so I took her details and promised to call her if I found him. No sooner had I written her details than the dog appeared from the woods and came trotting up to her.
Now whilst I don't believe in miracles I have to consider that I might have some kind of 'gift.'

Such praise!!

Much to Jan's dismay I was copied in on a medical letter written by a highly intelligent lady who happens to be an important person at Harrogate and District Hospital. She was writing to our local surgery about matters medical that I won't bore you with. This letter will form part of my medical history in perpetuity. The relevant section was at the bottom of the first page and I quote, 'Many thanks for your referral of this very pleasant gentleman who I met in clinic today.'
This letter is so important that it will have to be framed and shoved in Jan's face at every opportunity. Lest she forgets!

Greta Thunberg

Whilst it is difficult to say much positive about Theresa May at the moment she at least had the nous to not run to be seen with our latest messiah Saint Greta. Whilst she no doubt has some positive stuff to say about certain things why would anybody rush to be seen in the company of a sixteen years old juvenile who is no doubt being manipulated by very pushy parents.
I'm not sure I would ever ask a sixteen years old for advice on anything. Maybe I'm just dim.

Red Joan

We went see Red Joan last night and generally enjoyed it. The reviews had been pretty damning so I went with a certain amount of trepidation. I was aware of the story but was interested to know the background and generally it provided that. I gave it three stars mainly because of the acting by Sophie Cookson. Judy Dench spent a lot of time pulling faces or just looking blank.

Notre Dame

I was not impressed with Notre Dame and can't quite see what all the fuss is about. I thought that it was quite plain and somewhat grubby inside.
Still, it got everyone thinking, including Jan, who wondered out loud where Quasimodo was going to live.
This was further questioned when The Daily Mash came up with an answer yesterday.

Mutton

Not sure whether I had ever eaten mutton, or not, I got some from Farmison and Jan decided to make a lamb (sorry mutton) tagine.
Lest you think there is much taste difference between lamb and mutton, there isn't. Pretty much the same as between goat and lamb. We couldn't tell the difference.
Anyway as I was walking out of the kitchen Jan asked if I wanted another helping. 'There's loads left,' she said.
'I only had three pieces of meat in my tagine,' I said, 'no wonder there's loads left.'

Do you see a bit of a pattern developing here?

Crackling

So there I was watching Saturday Morning Kitchen this morning when a very disturbing thought hit me. We have a great pork butchers in Ripon called Appleton's. Amongst lots of really nice things they sell is pieces of roast pork belly. From time to time we buy a piece and Jan feeds it to me as a 'snack.' Watching SMK this morning they cooked a pork belly and treated the skin separately to make a really tasty looking crackling.
That's when it hit me, Jan has never ever given me the crackling from the pork belly we buy and when I faced her with this dereliction of 'duty' all she could do was giggle and admit that she has always eaten it herself and has never given me any!
Talk about being kicked in the nuts!

Good Meat

I was reading an article in The Times the other day concerning a writer's trip to Skipton. He also mentioned something he ate which was sourced from a butchers in Ripon.
For some time now we have been buying meat from Farmison in Ripon and very good it is too. We particularly like their baby back ribs.
Anyway, this article mentioned R&J Butchers in Ripon which I hadn't heard of. A quick search told me that they weren't actually in Ripon but in Kirkby Malzeard close by. Funnily enough we have shopped at Highside Butchers in KM and very good their stuff is too.
Question: Is Kirkby Malzeard the centre of high class butchers around here?
Anyway, determined not to be outdone we found R&J and established that they do not have a shop but sell mainly to the hotel and restaurant trade. Of course we will sell you something the nice lady said, 'what do you want?'
'Have you got any well hung rib eye?'
'Yes, do you want our 45 day aged or our special 60 day salt aged?'
We bought both and my mouth is watering as I write this. Roll on Sunday.

Red Len

OK bear in mind that it's Valentines Day.
A sleepy Jan stirs and complains about weird dreams.
What were you dreaming about said her unsuspecting but loving husband anticipating an ardent comment about the day.
'I was dreaming about Len McCluskey,' said Jan.'I was naked under a soiled dressing gown and was going off to meet him.'
Bloody hell, I'm no psychologist but that doesn't bode well for my delicate soul.

Amazing

Til the day I die I'll never understand women (or men come to that) who buy jeans with horizontal rips. I know it's a fashion statement but an absolutely
stupid one. I recently saw a young woman with cuts from the top to the bottom of her legs and this prompted me to ask her why she hadn't just bought shorts. At least she laughed.
Anyway I saw another beaut today. A young woman with the obligatory torn jeans was wearing black leggings underneath the jeans presumably because it was cold.
You couldn't make it up.

So Clever

Our cars sit outside because the garage is too small and full of stuff to take anything other than a Dinky toy.
During the recent cold weather the Golf froze solid. Actually the door locks froze solid and just wouldn't move and I eventually got the bloody thing started by climbing in through the boot. I just managed to start it and the car heated sufficiently for the locks to defrost.
I am big, very old and it was a painful, difficult and unedifying experience.
I pondered this over a couple of days and came up with the brilliant idea of not locking the car during the day (when it was milder) so that I could always make a quick getaway the next morning.
I know there's a downside to this idea but haven't figured that one out yet. What could possibly go wrong?

What?

It's not always easy to find unusual happenings for this journal but I was given a beaut today.

Jan, 'what's the date?'

Me, 'the 28th I think.'

Jan, 'no don't be stupid that was yesterday.'

Market Day

It's Thursday so it's market day here in Ripon.
I really enjoy visiting the market, not only for the obvious reason of buying food but also for the banter. It's amazing how quick witted and funny people can be, even elderly ladies.
Any way, we went up to our usual fruit and veg stall where I'm on first name terms with the guys on the stall.
'Stop whingeing about the cold (it was freezing),' I said to Ian, 'it's all in your mind.'
We carried on chatting about this and that and as we were leaving I took the bag with all our produce.
'Bloody hell this is heavy,' I said to Jan and a voice behind me said, 'Nah mate, it's all in your mind.'
Little things like that can keep me giggling all day.

Smoke and mirrors

So we're sitting there watching The ABC Murders when I said to Jan, 'bloody hell you know that place.'
At my age it is sometimes difficult to correctly name something quickly, if at all.
Anyway, Poirot has to visit Bexhill and he exits the railway station. The building he exits is just down the road from us. A building that Jan visits every week and had Bexhill Station plastered on its front.
Further investigation came up with this site.