Whatever next!

Brits are used to seeing that just about everything they thought was British to the core, is now owned by foreign companies; but this is going a step too far!

                         

Yes, Malvern based sports car manufacturer Morgan, that quintessential English company, has been flogged-off to Italy's 'Investindustrial'.

Investindustrial already own 31% of Aston Martin (what? you thought they were still British owned?); amongst a swathe of other companies.

I've driven an old Morgan 3 wheeler, and I'd love to drive a Plus 8. The Plus 8 above has been on Lady Magnon's Christmas wish-list for as long as I've known her (Santa ignored her). I'm not sure what she'll think now, knowing that it's bloody Italian.

It won't be long before we'll hear that The Queen has been sold to N Korea!

Keef's gone.

Sleep well Keef; you woz a goodun!

Talk of the Devil!

Lady Magnon was watching the beginning of  last week's 'The Great British Sewing Bee', when they announced that the project was to make Bell Bottom trousers.

I've always disliked Bell Bottoms, and even though they were at the height of fashion during my London days; I managed to resist in favour of (what later became) the 'New Romantic' style.

Anyway, I was just explaining to Lady Magnon that in around 1966, a friend of mine in Chelsea called Adrian, bought millions of pairs of white US Navy Bell Bottoms, died them pink, yellow, blue, green, etc, and made a fortune on the back of the unpleasant hippyish trend.

Then, blow me down, just as I was telling Lady M all about him, on comes Adrian's face on the TV, with the presenter saying exactly what I'd just been saying myself.

Adrian's face appears very briefly at around 10.25secs, only die-hards would wish to watch any more.

Spooky, or what!

Billy 'pink nose'.

My hands are shredded and my slippers are threadbare, there are indelible stains on the carpet, and we keep finding strange things in strange places. Yes, we have a puppy in the house.

I obtained my first puppy just before I left college. He was a scruffy black-n-tan terrier named Hamlet. The amazing thing about puppies is the instant change they have on your life. Not only are they huge fun to have at home, but they also attract the attention of almost every passer-by when you're out-n-about. Anyone who wishes to meet people and make new friends should acquire one without delay.

We were living in North Wales, at the time, and would go into our nearby town once a week on Market Day. With both a cute puppy, and a cute baby, in tow, moving from A to B became almost impossible. Every few paces someone would bend down to say 'goo goo' to the baby, or pamper the puppy. Of course, lengthy conversations would then take place about every aspect of both; how old, what's his name, and in the pup's case, what breed is he?

It was very pleasant having all the attention, but it slowed us down hugely. We only ever had two ports of call in town; one particular vegetable stall, where we bought our week's supply, and a 'health food' shop where we bought wholemeal bread, rice, pulses, pasta, etc (all rare commodities in Wales at that time). Even so, our once a week trip took all morning on account of the admiring passers-by.

I should add that these days I'm as guilty as anyone of greeting small (or even big) dogs in the street.

If you're looking to meet people.... buy yourself a puppy!

p.s. I was walking through the garden yesterday, wondering what the strange noise was. It was swarms of Bees in the Plum tree (below).

Stranger than fiction.

                                            

Today's world is very strange, but in many ways mine was much stranger. Here are just a few examples.

When I was small, you could enter a shoe shop and look at X Ray images of your own feet through bizarre Dalek-like machines. Certain children had their fingers painted with foul-tasting liquids, to stop them biting their nails. But strangest of all was that many were given giant spoons-full of Radio Malt to give them energy (I think).

Radio Malt was a bizarre product. On reading about it recently, it seems to have been primarily found in post-war boarding schools where is was issued to make children Rounder Stronger and Bulkier. Parents supplied their own giant jars of this horrible vitaminised Gloop. It was sickly sweet, with a taste somewhere between Molasses and Treacle. It's consumption was overseen by the school Matron (or similar).

I am pleased to say that I was NOT a partaker of Radio Malt, but many of my fellow school friends were. I wonder if they still have any teeth?

La Sinfónica Nacional Infantil de Venezuela.

This will gladden the heart of any music lover. A thousand (if not more) Venezuelan children under the enthusiastic batton of Sir Simon Rattle. I hope you have good speakers connected to your laptop!

Ecclesiastical climbers?

                                       

I happen to think that most old buildings look better with a few climbing roses, et al, wending their verdant ways between windows, and around doorways.

The juxtaposition of hard stone/brick and soft foliage has an appeal unto itself.

With this in mind, I have always wondered why England's ancient village churches are not swathed in Roses, Wisteria, or Clematis; surely they could only enhance the beauty of such buildings.

Maybe the killjoy church hierarchy have issued an edict about such things. Perhaps they have declared that the only focus of adornment should be the fragrant vicar, and his highly embroidered 'frocks'!