Not much kip again, but at least I got some in last night.
First job my sixth visit of the night to the WC.
Laptop on, had a cuppa and porridge. Had a great time creating commenting on a few and reading blogs. BT internet only went down a few time this morning.
About 1230hrs did me ablutions, WC, got ready to go and pick up my extra prescription from the GP. WC’d before I left.
Got prescription from the surgery, and set off on a walk (limp) into town.
Walked passed the chemists forgetting to get me medications – I blame the fact that I was noshing a banana.
In town, I caught a bus out to Derby.
I fed the pigeons behind the bus station. Noticed how low the water was, this revealed a new shopping trolley in the Derwent.
Had a hobble around, noticed all the people seemed in a bad mood there.
Walked out and caught bus to Mansfield.
In Mansfield, I realised that the people of Derby, were in fact not in a bad mood. What a depressing place the market there was today. Folk already staggering sloshed out of the pubs, people arguing, oh dearie me.
I bought a crossword book from the arcade, and made my way back to the bus station. I could smell food cooking somewhere, so was forced to investigate in the shop. Boy did I have a job telling her I had bought the crossword book from somewhere else.
Caught the bus back to Carrington, it was busy with passengers by then, and I had the company of a foreign lady on the seat in front speaking non-stop on her mobile, and a deep voiced loud chap on his mobile in the seat behind. Proper headache by the time I got off the bus. Neither stopped talking for over an hour.
I got off the bus as I had cunningly planned, near the chemists. Went in and they dispensed me prescription for me within fifteen minutes as I started me crossword book off.
Good job there was some extra pain-killers, had to take a couple straight away for me headache. Tsk!
Struggled home, knees and feet bad now. Got in, put the kettle on, and then went back out to the chemists to pick up me crossword book.
Back to the hovel again. WC.
Had a Cornish pastie peas and microwave chips – naughty but nice, followed by an orange jelly. I just don’t care yer know!
Took laptop up to do this blog. WC.
Not one of me most exciting days, but at least I got out a bit, must phone Jane again later and try and cheer her up a tad.
The magnanimous, pulchritudinous personage of our beloved David William Donald (The Wonder-man) Cameron
I have been perturbed lately about the state of health of our beloved unelected Prime Minister, The Right Honourable David William Donald Cameron. Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Minister for the Civil Service and First Lord of the Treasury, Leader of the Conservative Party, Member of the Cabinet Privy, Council European Council.Salary £148,000 (annual, including £67,060 MP’s salary)
One of his modest homes in Oxford
Mail on Sunday’s disclosure that he paid off the £75,000 mortgage on the £1.5 million home in North Kensington, London that he owns with his wife Samantha, after they took out a £350,000 taxpayer-funded HSBC mortgage on his designated Oxfordshire constituency second home. For his part, Cameron claimed he was able to pay off the mortgage on his London home by selling shares. While within the rules, this is precisely the kind of financial jiggery-pokery for which other MPs have been criticised in recent weeks.
Gossip… just gossip – It’s only been badly mauled that’s all!
But he is still open to the charge that someone who’s clearly worth a few bob was ‘playing’ the system by claiming more than £21,200 from taxpayers in 2005-6, for the mortgage interest paid on his constituency home.
It has been suggested that he could have saved the taxpayer thousands of pounds if he had put the money from the sale of his shares towards his constituency property – a large and comfortable country house – which he bought eight years ago for £650,000. Especially as it is now worth in the region of £1.8million, giving him a substantial paper profit.
Imagine his delight when his eldest son, Arthur, a stockbroker, married Steffie Cooper, a cousin of the Royal Family. This union provides Cameron’s link to the ‘Mad’ King George III, an ancestor he shares with the Queen (his fifth cousin once removed).
The line of ancestors down from these wealthy figures continues through the City. Both Cameron’s grandfather, also called Ewen, who died in 1958 leaving £57,000 (around £1.6million in today’s money), and his father Ian, a former High Sheriff of Berkshire, were stockbrokers.
Odd how some of the troops are given him odd looks innit?
Now he has the added problem of who to send our troops to attack next.
All this must be causing him concern.
Therefore, I think the nice gentleman would appreciate a little support from the electorate who didn’t vote him into office.
So last month, I started an appeal for gifts and support for him.
I’ve had to cancel the appeal due to ill health.
Cyanide capsules – are you the donor?
I’ve managed to send back to the donors, the gas canisters, crossbow, letter-bombs, pipe-bombs, the poisonous ball point hypodermic pen, the exploding cigar, the handkerchief gift box teeming with deadly bacteria, and the poisoned bottle of Cameron’s Whisky.
Unfortunately, the trained assassination budgerigar escaped.
Address of donor required please
If the people/person who sent in the C4 could kindly contact me with his/her/their address, I can return it along with the Cyanide capsules sent in.
Nottingham’s next ‘Support for David Cameron is Essential’ association meeting, will take place at in the old BT Telephone box outside the Savoy Hotel, next Wednesday at 1755 hrs.
No sleep through the night as such, feeling tired and weak.
0500hrs: WC, started laptop, WC, made a cuppa and pot of porridge (added a spot of honey, ah the good life), WC.
Did graphics for this blog, WC, Made another cuppa, Asda delivery arrived 0630 hrs. WC.
Now I can’t get into me Emails? What next… oh, it’s come up now.
I posted blog posts and started writing and graphics for me next one.
Several visits to the WC.
Got meself sorted a bit, still not feeling very great, but managed to get meself around to the doctors to pick up me extra prescriptions. Didn’t actually get there though… I remembered it was Wednesday and not Thursday, the day I was to pick up the prescription.
Wearily back to the hovel.
Visit to the WC.
Saw a policeman on foot on the street when I got back – yes an actual policeman (Well, a CPO) on our street, never been known for ages.
Couldn’t muster up any energy today. Angina playing up too, I feel so tired.
No foodstuff were purchased from Lidl
But I’m eating, boy am I eating. Made some instant mash with onions, added cheese granules, some cooked ham, seaweed, peas, and bread. Followed by two suckers and an ice-cream.
Followed later as I lay there praying for sleep – by bags of Marmite crisps and walnuts.
Visit to the WC.
Drained, I lay there still waiting for sleep, as I listened to the radio, read me book, watched a DVD… oh oh and several visits to the porcelain.
Late December 1963: This incident took place while I as working at Tesco on Goosegate, Hockley in Nottingham. (The only Tesco in Nottingham at the time).
I was manager of the Greengrocery Section at the time. It was 0800hrs and I was setting out the display, as I noticed this tramp-like chap with a heavy sack under his arm, and the biggest blotchy nose I’ve ever seen walk into the store and he said to me, in a refined sort of voice “Good Morning young man” and proceeded down the aisle to the tinned meats sections shelves.
As I was looking at him, a mate (Butchers cutter Ray Miles and old school chum) was filling the meat fridge opposite where the chap was, and we acknowledged each other. At that moment the big-nosed chappy opened the heavy sack, and scooped all the Fray Bentos corned beef tins into it – slung it over his shoulder, and proceeded to walk out of the store.
I jumped down from the trolley of potato sacks I was putting on the display as he passed me, and said; “Excuse me Sir…”
“Fair enough governor, you’ve got me!” Then handed me the sack, and he actually led me into the back and upstairs.
The manager joined us, and the police were called.
They arrived through the back loading door within 10 minutes, and you should have seen the beaming smiles on their faces when they saw the chap and greeted him with; “Hallo Arthur, how the devil have you been keeping son?”
One of the policemen handed out his fags to the other officer and ‘Arthur’, and they chatted merrily away for an hour or so. Eventually they arrested him, and he was collected by another officer who came to fetch him, and another old-time gossip session took place between they all, with laughter, back slapping etc.
After he’s been taken away, the remaining plain clothes officer told us that it was near Christmas, so Arthur always got himself arrested so he could be fed and looked after over the holidays.
The Shoplifting Lemon Jacketed Vixen
1964: I had been promoted to the grand title of ‘Trainee Assistant Manager’. The store manager’s name was Mr Wynn, and we had a new Assistant Manager, Mr Goodhead.
I was helping out on the tills, and unbeknown to me, Mr Goodhead and a store detective had been following this giant of a woman, wearing a bright ‘lemon’ jacket and had been seen hiding tinned products in her own shopping bag.
The first I knew of this was when Mr Goodhead, tried to stop the woman as she exited the doors, and she swung her bag of canned food around and into the face of Mr Goodhead, knocking him out for the count.
For some reason, she ran not out of the shop, but into it, and a chase ensued with me, Mr Wyn, a woman supervisor (Can’t remember her name) the store detective woman, Ray Miles and several other brave staff chasing her around the gondolas and shelves for a few minutes (Even at the time I thought this is a bit like a Keystone Cops film).
Then she ‘Lemon’ woman ran into the back of the store, up the stairs and into the warehouse, where she was eventually wrestled to the floor. Several cuts and bruises were suffered by the staff in this scrap, ‘Lemon was strong woman.
As we waited for the police to arrive in the warehouse, a rather weather-beaten Mr Goodhead appeared, with a hell of a lump of his forehead, along with a trickle of blood from his ear-hole.
Two women PCs arrived, and that set of the ‘Lemon’ again. It took the PCs and three of us to calm her down again.
Another police car arrived, and we managed to get her into the back of the Panda, not easy trying to carry 16 stone of unwilling ‘Lemon’ to a car, I can tell you.
As the car drew off up the back road with ‘Lemon’ ensconced in it, it was amusing to see the car swerve and shake about with the springs being tested to their limit.
We counted our injured. Mr Goodhead head injuries, sent to hospital three days off work – Our female supervisor broken nail, bloody lip and pulled hamstring, eight days off work – The Store Detective woman, bloody nose and scratched face – Ray Miles bruised testicles, Inchcock bit fingers and broken glasses.
Eventually we found out that the woman (Lemon) had received 3 months probation and a £20 fine.
Was it worth it I asked?
The Lincolnshire Chase
So there I was, sent to the Lincoln Tesco, as additional help in getting the store sorted in time for reopening after a fire.
Tesco had got Bruce Forsyth and then David Nixon to do a visit to encourage shoppers to attend the reopening.
We only just managed to get everything ready on time, and I worked throughout the night, along with many others.
The opening ceremony went well, Mr Forsyth and Mr Nixon, especially Mr Nixon, ere true gentlemen and remained unflustered as their fans approached them.
After they had both gone, I had hoped to get some sleep in – but the codeword for a shoplifter came over the tannoy, so it was all male staff to the shop floor.
The distinctively dresses Teddyboy doing the shoplifting, skipped past the manager, and had it away on his toes, with me in pursuit.
Eventually I had to give up the chase, I bet he’s not been working all night.
Then it dawned on me… I was lost.
Eventually, after asking for directions repeatedly, I got back to the store, just in time to start my next shift.