Doddy.

                             

Dodd has died.

I grew-up with a wonderful set of British comedians; Tommy Cooper, Kenneth Williams, Ted Ray, Norman Wisdom, Stanley Unwin, Charlie Drake, and of course Doddy to name just a few.

Their careers began before television made them into household names, and they mostly honed their skills either with ENSA or in music hall.

Back in the early 80's a friend of mine went to a Ken Dodd show at some big Country Club near Liverpool. He had been invited by a business client, and hadn't been particularly looking forward to it. When I spoke to him about it the following evening, he couldn't praise Dodd enough!

I think the show was supposed to have started at 10 pm, and should have lasted for two hours. My friend eventually left the Club at about 3.30 am, having had one of the best nights of his life.

Dodd was well known for over-running his shows, he never wanted them to end; he simply enjoyed himself too much. He always left his audiences desperate for more.

I never saw Dodd live myself; frankly he wasn't really my style. But there is no denying that he was a superb entertainer. Most current comedians will name comics such as he as the greatest influence on their careers.

Here's one of his gags "The man who invented 'cats eyes' did so after having caught a cat in his headlights one night. Had the cat been walking in the other direction he would have invented the pencil sharpener".

Goodnight Doddy; sleep well.

Last year's Walnuts.

2017 was a bad year for Walnuts here. The trees (along with many vineyards) were damaged in a late frost, and that was that.

Luckily I have one tree that is slightly protected from frost, and I was able to pick just enough green immature nuts to make about a Kilo of pickles; one large and one small jars.

Pickled Walnuts take time. They are best kept for a couple of years before broaching. Yesterday I decided to open the small jar; just to make sure they are OK.

Branston is always good with cheese, as is good home-mixed mustard; but best of all (especially if you have some really tasty mature Cheddar) are a couple of pickled Walnuts.

When I get to the actual pickling stage with my Walnuts, I always add sugar. It takes away the tartness of the nuts, and brings out the flavour. If you intend to pickle some this early summer, I suggest you do the same; it makes all the difference. And make sure you pick them before any interior wood has started to form.

N.B. In a year's time the yellow-ish interior should turn completely black, and they will soften even more than they already have. Delicious.

Holiday village; update.

                         

I suppose we now have to accept that we have lost our battle against the proposed 'holiday village', which is to be built (or buried) in the midst of our tiny hamlet. We are not happy, but trying to fight against French bureaucracy isn't easy; even if they know that their original decision was illogical and crazy.

The owner of the site already has one 'Gite', which he converted from a disused stone-built barn. His this year's lets began a few weeks ago, and when I passed by yesterday morning, there were FOUR cars parked overlooking the road, opposite a semi derelict house. When his buried metal boxes are all occupied, there could be up to another TEN cars parked there, making a total of FOURTEEN. He also has permission to build a restaurant on the site, so goodness knows how many more cars that will bring in. A veritable giant car park will soon be established, unlike anything our quiet bucolic haven has ever seen.

Lady magnon and I occasionally discuss this disaster over our lunchtime gruel, and we try to envisage alternatives that would have met with little, or no, opposition.

One such idea was for Gypsy Caravans. Had he parked a few holiday wagons amongst an orchard of Apple and Pear trees, I doubt if anyone would have complained. It would have been 'decorative', holiday makers would have loved it, and he probably would have earned the same sort of money.

OK, modern Gypsy caravans are not as decorative as the old one above, and it would take some time for an Apple orchard to become established, but the results would have been so much nicer.

Why he has opted for semi-buried old shipping containers.... I cannot imagine!

Career change!

I mentioned yesterday that an old friend had operated on Lyndon B Johnson. Paul Nener (The Rev'd Canon Paul Nener as he now is) had been a medical student with my cousin in Liverpool, and like my cousin had been a straight A's student; an erstwhile medical genius..

Having mentioned him, I decided to 'google him' to see what he looked like today; he is only just about recognisable from when we last met.

Having been a top-notch surgeon (you need to be, to operate on a US president), Paul later turned his back on medicine to become a priest.

I'm saddened to say, but I find this totally incomprehensible and shocking. Why someone with such obvious talent and knowledge should leave it all behind to become a purveyor of Fairy Tales, I really cannot fathom!

The worst post-WW2 US Presidents.

                       

According to a Quinnipiac University Poll, here are the USA's worst Presidents.

Chump
Obarmy
Tricky Dicky
Someone called Carter
George Bush
Clinton
Lydon Johnson
Ronny Reagan
Gerald Ford.

I'm not quite sure why Chump is top of this list. He's only served one year so far, and who knows, he and Fat Boy might end-up as great 'peacemakers'.

Obarmy in second place comes as no surprise. The good people of the US feel that they've done their bit for race relations, and can now forget about such things for the foreseeable future.

Tricky Dicky needs no comment.

Carter. Didn't he grow peanuts?

Bush, together with Blair, should be in prison.

Clinton is still trying to get the stains out; I believe his wife is carrying the baton.

Johnson. A friend of mine was part of a small team who operated on Lyndon in Oct' 1965. My friend has now given up the knife, and is a priest in London (why?).

Ronny was good fun; always amusing to have a bit-part actor in the oval office, and Nancy was cute.

Ford. Something to do with cars maybe? Not sure.


Positions of power tend to attract those who should never be allowed to hold it. It's the same the world over.

3,000th. Corbyn writes...

                           

I recently received a letter from 'Daphne' in Bigglesthwaite, who asked 'Is it true, Jeremy, that Mr Magnon has now written a staggering 3,000 pages of his remarkable blog page?'. I wasn't sure about the answer to her question, so I had to consult my, erm, 'secretary' Diane.

Well Daphne, it looks as if you are correct. My 'secretary' confirms that Mr Magnon's remarkable blog has indeed turned its 3,000th page.

I do, of course, read his blog each morning with my Oats and small glass of diluted Wincarnis; it keeps me au fait with the world's vibes (as we young people say).

As it happens, my 'secretary' Diane and I often read his words together over breakfast (she arrives for work very early, you understand). Once Diane has cleaned-up after her regular Islington Pork Sausage and Spotted Dick, we go through all our important reading together, which includes Mr Magnon's blog. Diane often takes notes of Cro's food comments too.

So, many congratulations Mr Cro; power to your pen. I shall, from today, make it Socialist/Marxist Party policy that all my front benchers read your page each morning, and your fine words will then be discussed over Beer and Sandwiches before our day begins in Earnest (Bevan).

Many Congrats, you old Tory; Jezza x

Wiggo.

                                   

The clever race planners who devise the ever more challenging routes for the Tour de France, do so in order to make the race not only spectacular, but also to push the riders to the absolute limit.

It is not uncommon to have riders scale and descend five or six 'mountains' whilst on a day's 200 km Pyrenees or Alps stage; often in searing heat. This requires being in tip-top physical condition. An enhanced Asthma inhaler could NEVER replace being a mighty fine cyclist. It simply ain't going to happen. Riders such as Armstrong and Wiggins were at the top of their game, even if they did suck a few dodgy peppermints on the way round.

Personally I couldn't care less if a sports-entertainer of any sort takes a slight 'stimulant'; he or she is just there for our amusement. If  Bonnington, Hamilton, Rossi, or McEnroe gave themselves a wee boost (as they all do) to achieve the ultimate, then who am I to moan about it.

I don't want to see my heros eyes spinning, or behaving like 'spiced-out' zombies, but if a few extra glucose tabs will help them; then OK.

Sir Bradley Wiggins is probably innocent; certain countries simply can't stand to see a British cycling team (Sky) winning, and will do anything to discredit them!