When the Music Plays

Who is Kurt Harris you might ask? I've spent many a happy hour flitting around YouTube watching and listening to some great music from many genres. I recently came across a track called "Emperor of my Baby's Heart" and its has rapidly become a real favourite, even making it to the heady heights of my mobile ring tone. This is one of the few pictures I've been able to find of the man, the cover of another record he recorded under the stage name of Kurtis Scott.

aka Kurt Harris

Emperor of my Baby's Heart is 2'46" of classic Northern Soul. Released in 1964 on the Diamond record label, an original copy could easily set you back £50. Follow the link below to judge for yourself how good this track is....

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m_Lrog3dSXU

Influenzotestostero

Sods Law reared its ugly head over the weekend just past. A tickle in the throat on the evening of my last day at work on Thursday turned into a full blown bout of Manflu by Saturday morning. Why couldn't the tickle and ensuing affliction have happened on my first day at work, forcing me to have consideration for my colleagues by removing myself from the workplace for a few days?

Its not looking good.

After doing the macho thing and refusing to be subdued by a few germs I took myself off to see the mighty Brentford FC play Crawley in their Meccano based stadium. I'd dosed myself up with the maximum recommended amount of Paracetamol and Ibuprofen; cough sweets, tissues and a small hip flask filled with medicinal rum. 

After lunch and an ale at a nearby hostelry we headed off to the ground and watched Newcastle mug Chelsea on the TV in the club bar. Crawley vs Brentford was a poor game with little to get excited about. The Bees scored a stonewall penalty in the 5th minute and thats how the score stayed. Huffing and puffing in midfield by both teams and the occasional sortie forward presented a poor advert for League One football. The win was good though, being Brentfords fourth in a row.

Penalty king Adam Forshaw

The journey home was quick and uneventful until I arrived back in Andover. The manflu had clearly had enough of being subdued with drugs and alcohol and took its revenge. A shivering fit and a bout of hacking cough followed by a pounding headache took hold. I dragged myself to the settee with a duvet and crashed out to be woken thirty minutes later by Shaz coming home from work.

Think I was hallucinating

I was packed off to bed pretty quickly and had one of those restless nights with virus dreams and much tossing and turning, hot one minute and cold the next. Sunday turned into a dressing gown and sofa day. Shaz kept the drinks coming and I looked after the TV remote control, watching three movies back to back, V for Vendetta, Once Upon a Time in America and The Dark Knight. 

Got any tripe flavoured popcorn?

Monday dawned and unsurprisingly the symptoms had waned making a couple of days off work a guilt ridden prospect instead of a self excusing skive. Sods law?

 

 

That Friday feeling.

There is little that is more irksome to a shift worker than an effervescent radio or television personality bleating on about it being Friday and how the weekend is here. Those of us whose working life is spread over all seven days of the week can well do without their exhortations to get out and enjoy the traditional two days off. 

I'd be most grateful if the likes of Chris 'Ginger Twat' Evans on The One Show and Vanessa 'Porker' Feltz on Radio Two would take their stereotyped inanities and shove them them back from whence they came.

Annoying bastards

Likewise the desk jockeys and nine to fivers of this nation. I don't give a shit if its a Friday and you're off out to swill overpriced alcopops down your neck and stuff yourself full of curry or kebab. Keep your Facebook and Twitter updates to yourselves thankyou. 

Shut the fuck up.

I have no desire to hear of your walks in the park, trips to the beach or shopping expeditions whilst I'm working. So please have some consideration for the weekend people, many of whom are making your days of rest that bit better.

Oh so true!

Although you may rest assured that I'll be regaling all and sundry with tales of lazy weekdays and relaxing mid-week trips free from the madding crowds. Whilst you're in the office counting paper clips and shuffling pieces of paper I'll be enjoying queue and crowd free open spaces. Parking spaces will be abundant and eating establishments will not be heaving with obnoxious kids and their parents.   

Can someone shoot Evans and Feltz?

 

Searching For The Good Life

A few weeks ago, in a fit of generosity, I treated Shazzie to a greenhouse. Nothing too elaborate or expensive, just a a basic 6'x4' made from aluminium and polycarbonate. Since it got delivered its been sitting under our rear porch waiting to be erected. So okay I thought, just how difficult can it be? 

How its meant to look

Our garden already had a suitable site, lots of sunshine, level and firm that required no preparation. So I sat down with a cup of PG and read through the instructions. 16 pages and 23 steps later I was still scratching my head trying to get to grips with the odd wording and dodgy diagrams.

I'm going to need plenty of these.

Preparation is the key my old headmaster used to tell me, So I cleared a space in the garage and made sure that I had all the tools needed to hand. Screws, bolts and fixings all decanted into a small tub and the parts laid out ready to be identified as required. Lacking any further reason to delay the start I turned to page 1, the door. If you've read this far without losing the will to live I suspect you may be expecting a tale of twisted metal and cracked panels. Not so dear reader, the door went together fairly well and was soon complete and placed to one side ready for installation when required. What I did realize was that this was not going to be a quick job, more like 2 or 3 days of concerted effort.

Surely it can't be that hard?

Even after enlisting the assistance of my neighbour and chum Keith from over the road, by mid afternoon we only had the base and 2 sides constructed. But so far so good, nothing has been broken or damaged and there are no parts missing.

Dog tired

Day 2 of the big build will commence later. Back to work tomorrow so hopefully it'll be just about finished.

Update: 17.00 and its complete and in situ, all that remains is for it to be fixed to the ground. Better get that done a bit sharpish given the storms forecast for next week! My hands are sore and my back aches but its a good feeling to have done something reasonably well. Shazzie is very happy, already planning what she is going to grow and where the radio is going to be!

The finished item.

Time to get back to this blogging malarkey, hard to believe its been such a long time since I even visited Blogger.

Shazzie and I recently returned to Devizes for a weekend in the motorhome. Amongst other things we did the Wadworths brewery tour. A very pleasant couple of hours that only cost a tenner and was an interesting experience.

We enjoyed the weekend away, especially after Shazzie's recent health scare. Devizes is a nice town with a distinct atmosphere all of its own.

I'm in the middle of a run of late shifts, lots of getting home between 0100 and 0200. Better than having to get out of bed before dawn for an early shift!

Earlier this week we drove out to a place called Echilhampton to do a geocaching trail. We walked 8.4km, found 28 caches and logged a new Trigpoint at the top of Echilhampton Hill. Terrific views across the North Wiltshire countryside.

Life has been a bit hectic recently, so many things going on at once.

Its odd how one minute you don't know where your next spare half hour is coming from and all of a sudden you have time on your hands as the decks clear themselves.

My first case as an RMT Workplace Representative was successful although I have to admit that I didn't really have to work very hard for the outcome and can't claim that it was all my doing. I was pleased with my performance and demeanor though and after reviewing what happened I don't think I missed anything and followed the training previously given. My colleague will be back at work this week and resuming his normal driving duties.

My recent experience of the court and legal system has left me severely disillusioned. The way that people are treated is despicable and regardless of guilt or innocence, they and their families should be treated with respect. The officials of Andover Magistrates Court in particular are a bunch of arrogant, pompous bullies who wouldn't be out of place in a Flashman novel. The presiding magistrate on the day displayed a vile demeanour and if he is an example of our judiciary then a lot needs to be done.

A period of untroubled routine would be nice for a couple of months before the next crisis presents itself but then isn't that what life is all about? A series of challenges interspersed with highs and lows of emotion? 

Snow-go in Winter Shock

During the recent weekend parts of the United Kingdom saw a couple of centimeters of snow fall and accumulate. Nothing spectacular, just what I would describe as a below average winter weekends smattering of the white stuff that the country experiences every year. If going out socially or to work was too hazardous or onerous during this brief flurry then what else was there to do? The answer is obvious, stay at home and enjoy the hysterical coverage in the press and on the television and radio.

The build up to the 'Big Freeze' during the final days of last week was absurd. Any self respecting Martian listening in would have thought that we were facing Armageddon! What on earth those poor souls in Eastern Europe currently enduring some of the coldest temperatures on record, down to -33 degrees, must think of us doesn't bear considering.

Originality is not something that occurs too often in our media and this brief spell of inclement weather has produced all the usual rubbish. Coverage and photographs of a few celebs and their offspring sledging down Primrose Hill. This time round it was Tim Burton and Helena Bonham-Carter who thrilled the photographers and us with their antics. And why Primrose Hill? Because all the lazy bastard press photographers live just round the corner and they can get their pictures done and be back indoors by half past ten in the morning.

Predictable!

Equally culpable in this weather induced feeding frenzy are the TV channels. Sky News in particular must have a reporter primed and ready, swathed in Marks and Spencer matching scarf and hat sets, in every city in the country. Cue shots of sledging infants hurtling down hill sides followed by the aforementioned reporter being ambushed by snowball throwing thugs. Usually with a follow up report a couple of days later about the dangers of these hoodlums and how they all deserve ASBO's.

Boring!

A more recent phenomenon has been the sharing via social media of other peoples snow pictures and experiences. If I've seen one picture of someones son/daughter/grandchild building a snowman/riding a sledge/making a snow angel then I've seen a thousand. For crying out loud keep the bloody pictures to yourself unless there is something remotely original to share.

Much better!

It's not the actual snow or cold weather that I have a problem with, I quite enjoy a walk in the snow and seeing the children enjoying themselves. It's the mass hysteria indulged in and propagated by the media that irks me so much.

Anyway, enough of me being a seriously grumpy old man, I'm off to post a few snaps of my dog playing in the snow on Facebook.      

As always please feel free to leave a comment.