The Story So Far

It seems to me that my destiny is to be the ‘eternal sufferer’.

No matter what I do; what precautions I take, things are just meant to go wrong.

There was the long saga with my rust-bucket car (deceased), the fence (twice), the guttering on the house (I haven’t told you about that, have I?), the laptop (throws tantrums like a petulant teenagers) and my desktop PC (oldoldoldoldold!) and now the garage wall.

Let me tell you about that wall…

It is an old … very old ,,, crack in the brickwork that dates back more than fifteen years, which is as long as my wife has lived here.

It was never repaired properly (according to the surveyor) but was masterly disguised by someone with an artistic bent.  When the missus bought this place it had been made to look just like any other wall.

Now, after all this time a rather large leak in the garage roof has revealed this wall to be, in fact, a forgery!

Ok. It’s too late to run to the previous owner (long dead,I’m afraid) and punch him in the face, so we braced ourselves for the worst.

Our  garage has an outer and an inner roof. The inner is just a number of one inch boards sealed together and fixed above the joists supporting the whole roof.  Above that is the outer roof. This one is also made up of one inch boards but water proofed, leaded and tarred. It has a life span (so I’m told) of up to fifteen years.

Sadly, it would appear that that fifteen years has long since passed and our waterproofed roof has gone to ‘garage roof heaven’ allowing all of the roof boards to slowly soak up water.  It has taken a long time but now the water, seeking an escape route, has begun to destroy the previous owners artwork allowing us to see the damaged wall.

Quotes fro the repair work are coming in thick and fast!

The work the are specifying ranges from stripping the roof down to the rafters and totally re-roofing to simply applying a heavy duty one-piece rubber sheet.

The rubber sheet seems to be favourite price-wise but, on the other hand, for £1900 we could have a new roof.

What do you think?

To other news now …

You may have heard that snowflakes have been seen in Britain!

The ensuing chaos has been widely reported and once again made us (Brits) look like bunch of idiots.

        Snowflakes here,
        Snowflakes there,
        A Country in chaos,
        Every-f***ing-where!

Confession Of A Overrated Blogger!

I have to be honest and say

that I get my best blog idea's

whilst grunting my way through

sweat inducing, no farts barred,

bowel movements ...

... I haven't had a crap for three years!

Time: Too Long On The Toilet

The freshly sliced seconds, minutes and indeed hours of 2012 speed past me, turning my future into my past without so much as a 'by your leave'.  Time is passing me by at such a rate that I can almost hear the hiss as it squeezes itself through the air.

My 'future', so far ahead of me yet already considering retiring into my 'past', never seems to stick around long enough to make an impact as my 'present'.

I mean, come on!  What is the purpose of a future if you can't use it as a present?

My future is infinite ... provided that I don't kick the bucket

My past is 52 years old and ageing rapidly.

My present?

Oh! There goes another one! And another ...

You see?

Presents go by so quickly that you can't use them!

Oooo!  Did ya see that one?

I hate time!

There you go!  That's my morning grump out of the way.

Let's talk some shit!

Erm, anyone done anything, ya know, wicked?

Have you been bad?

I did!

I ate far too much chocolate over Christmas and New Year.

Man!

That stuff really makes you wanna go.

It can keep you on the 'throne' for hours at a time if you over do it.

What?

Well it does!

Poopless In The Good Old U.S. Of A.

This post (the van potty x2)  by SherilinR reminded of something I started to write ages ago but never never got around to posting.

Here it is.

As a child I thought I was different ... that the British in general were different.

My early childhood was spent watching two TV channels - BBC and ITV - and my experiences of the world beyond my home town was limited and everything outside of Newbiggin-by-the-Sea was alien to me.

My perception of everything and everyone else on God's earth was based mainly on those shows that appeared on our screens.

I recall episodes of Rawhide and watching Rowdy and Gil save many a woman in distress or avoiding certain death by heading off stupid stampeding cattle at the last moment.

I remember Stu Bailey, Jeff Spencer and 'Kookie' keeping the streets of L.A. safe in 77 Sunset Strip.

Ben, Adam, Hoss and Little Joe would  ride out each week, save everybody (including their land) from bad guys whilst spouting moral after moral.

But never ... not once ... did any of those hero's ever hesitate before chasing villains or saving the obligatory damsel in distress and say "Hang a minute.  I think I gotta poop first"!

They never did, did they?

Not until Jane Fonda dropped her knickers to have a pee in the 1977 film ´Fun With Dick´ And Jane did I realise that Americans need to perform bodily functions in the same way as we British do.

Call me naive if you will (pauses for a chorus of jeers) but Hollywood and the TV networks of my childhood seemed determined to let us believe that toilets, and the use thereof, were not something that American hero's ever needed or wanted.

Nowadays, however, it's a different story.

Hollywood seems to think that realism now only comes from actors sometimes delivering their lines whilst taking a leek or farting "Hail To The Chief".

Bodily functions are readily discussed or carried out on our screens (in an 'acting' sense, of course) in an effort to deliver something that people will accept, if not as real, at least as plausible.

Anyway ...

... that is why I thought I (we) was (were) different!

Back then, I thought that Americans didn't do 'doodoo' or 'peepee' (try saying that several times very fast)!

So I wanted to be American, because doing 'doodoo' and 'peepee', in my opinion was, and is, a pretty disgusting way of disposing of waste.

God? If you're reading this ... the waste disposal system you designed ... well, it stinks! ... Literally!

No Jocks, No Americans, Just Crusader 80 (Part Three)

This is the third and final post relating to the exploits 52 Ord Coy,  5 Ordnance Battalion during Exercise Crusader 80.

Although never planned as trilogy, the events documented here

Part One - Another "First Encounter" With Americans ,

here,

Part Two - When The Jock Hits The Shi@

and in the following lines, are true events that occurred (with only minor embellishments) during the afore mentioned exercise which took place in Germany in 1980. 

The location: Belle (Nordrhein-Westfalen), Germany.

Crusader 80 was drawing to a close and it was time for the Brass to do a little PR work by visiting all those poor, dirty and stressed-out souls on the ground.

Our fearless leader, Major McCormack, joined us for the first time in this location (he had to attend some function or other) on this day as it was our turn under the spotlight and media glare.  The press turned up in the wake of our even more fearless leader, Brigadier Forgotizname, who was coming to say a hearty 'well done' to the troops for a successful exercise.

Major McCormack, as I mentioned, had only just joined us and, after a quick briefing from his 2 I/C,  made ready to greet our visitor.  Sadly his briefing did not include any info as to the layout of the farm in which we were located other than the positions of various tents (cook tent, control tent, HQ tent) and sentry posts.   

It was completely lacking any and all information regarding the large area of green surrounded by a low concrete wall in the centre of the farm's courtyard.

The courtyard looked something like this

The tent nearest to the barn was the HQ tent and was where Major McCormack met Brigadier Forgotizname.

The plan was to visit the Control tent, where supplies were controlled by myself and three others, then to do a circuit of our defensive positions, starting at the fox-hole behind our tent and going in a clockwise direction around the farm.

Now, Major McCormack did not know what we knew and, after greeting our illustrious guests at our HQ tent, he boldly stepped up onto the small concrete wall surrounding the area of green, indicating that the 'show' was about to start and that everyone should follow him towards the Control tent.

Before any word of warning could be uttered, he stepped onto the green area ... and promptly disappeared up to his waist in liquid pig shit!

The 'green' area was actually a large basin created to collect the pig's 'doings' and allow it to ferment a little before it could be sprayed on the surrounding fields.  The 'green' surface was a layer of algae that had grown across that surface of the liquid.

If you weren't told what it was, then it really did look like a safe place to walk on.

With the layer of algae being all that held back the stench, the air was quickly filled with the wonderful aroma that only a pigs bottom could generate.

The stifled laughter of all in attendance broke into guffaws as Major McCormack continued his walk through the shit-pit saying "Well?  What's everyone waiting for?  C'mon in!  The shit's lovely!"

The visit did eventually continue but, alas, without the attendance of Major McCormack who went off to immerse himself in a bath of disinfectant .

There Is A 'Down Side' To Everything!

It doesn't matter what chaos ensues when the winter snows come; it doesn't matter how many people are inconvenienced or endangered by the conditions; it doesn't matter how cold it may get ...

... snow-scape's really are very beautiful scenes to witness.

A thick blanket of snow covering the trees and fields, roads and pavements, gardens and parks ... it really is a wonderful sight to behold.

But there is a down side.

Oh, it won't be noticed so much, if at all, by the majority of people.

Dog owners though are going to notice it a big way ... as I have just done.

The thaw has come to Cardiff and the snow, which once was so beautiful ... was once so dangerous ... has receded.

The 30 centimetre snow blanket that once covered our garden has now become a thin three-coloured patchwork of white, green and brown.

We have a garden measuring approximately 19 metres by 9 meters. It isn't what you might call huge, but it's big enough for us and our three dogs.

Yes, I did say 'brown'. Have another look, just a couple of lines back, if you aren't sure.

You see the 'down side' of snow for a dog owner is the mountain of doggy doo-doo that appears as if by magic on the remains of your winter ravaged lawn.

I discovered our 'down side' this morning as I decided (the wife told me to) scoop the doo-doo.

It took forty-five ( 45 ) minutes to complete and resulted in two ( 2 ) bags full of the dreaded ... well, you know what it is by now.  I won't rub your noses in it.

My back now hurts from all that scooping.

I though I'd been doing a fairly good job keeping the garden clear of the stuff; scooping regularly; but it seems I was out-foxed by the pesky pups.  They did a fine job of hiding their waste or at least timing the bulk of it to coincide with the heavy snow fall!

Who would have thought that three ( 3 ) doggy 'ani'* could produce such an amount of the stuff.

To ensure there is no repetition of this monumental load of stuff to be scooped, I am contemplating corking their little arse's.

But if anyone out there knows of a dog trainer that has had success in teaching dogs to use a loo, let me have his/her number ... puh-leeeeeeeeeeeez let me have the number!



* Probably isn't, but it would be nice if 'ani' was the plural of 'anus'.  Nice and catchy, don't you think?.

'Free Time In Flatulence Heaven' or 'Back With The Wind'

I find myself with some unexpected time on my hands.  Well, I say 'unexpected', but what I mean is that I was supposed to have this time off, but what with the 'extra calls' I referred to yesterday, I didn't think I'd get it.

But I did.

So, I find myself once again blogging.

I have three dogs lying at my feet and there is a curious odour permeating 'my space'.

I have been listening to curious 'phut' and 'sssfffffffffftt' sounds which I am sure has a lot to do with the pong currently engulfing me.  The three dogs are, or at least appear to be, oblivious to it and continue to snore.

I should really pack up my laptop and move to a safer location but, damn it, I was here first and my backside has taken ages to warm up this sofa cushion!

Oh!  That was a big 'PHUT'!

Sym, my boy, is now investigating an apparent rupture of his anus.  At least I now know which dog to throw out into the snow!

Only kidding!

I wonder how the queen reacts when her corgi's starts playing 'Jingle Bowels' on the bum-organ?

I wonder how her dogs would react if she did it! I'm sure the dogs would get up in disgust and walk off.  Ours do!

[ re-location pause ]

My laptop and I have retreated to the kitchen.  I experienced one 'phut' too many!

My eyes had begun to water and the damp handkerchief that I'd tied over my nose and mouth just didn't bring me any respite from Sym's chemical attack.  The bad news is that all three dogs are now in the kitchen with me!

One 'phut' or  'sssfffffffffftt' and they are ALL going out into the cold!

The story that I intended to post on my blog, or 'bloog' as the dodgy O on my keyboard would have me type, isn't this one.

I'm afraid that writing, as I have, about the doggies 'bottom burping' all the time has completely side tracked me and I now find that work, once again, beckons.

Did it really take me that long to write about farts?

Oh well!  At least you now know something about the Hell I've been going through.

The Brave Defender And The Dog Sludgie Trail

It was twenty past two in the morning and I thought I'd heard something downstairs.

I was out of bed and awake quicker than you could do something quickly, my 9 iron whisked out from under the pillow (well, where would you keep yours?) and ready for action.

I tip-toed to the head of the stairs in a 'ziggy-zaggy' kind of way so I could avoid all those squeaky floor boards I've been meaning to replace.  I did not alert the intruder by switching on a light and I certainly didn't say "Is anyone there?" because if someone answered "Yes!", I just knew I'd shit a brick, if not a whole bungalow!

In the downstairs hallway there was nothing to be seen, so I crept down the stairs as quietly as possible.

I quickly checked the front door and it was still intact and locked.

I went through to the kitchen ... nothing!

The back door and all the windows were all secure.

I felt safe enough to put the light on at this point.

It went 'click'

It lit up.

As my eyes adjusted to the light, it slowly dawned on me that there was no intruder and that one of the dogs must have been responsible for the noise that I heard.

There were three tired, but guilty looking dogs lying in their beds.

But that is not what convinced me that one of them was to blame ... no!

It was the trail.

It was a UK size 7 trail.

A trail down the centre of the hallway and into the kitchen.

It ended in exactly the place where I was stood.

It was brown!!!

Three dogs pretended very hard to be fast asleep and the cat sniggered!

Let me tell you ... there is nothing more sure to wake you up, and give you no chance of getting back to sleep, than cleaning up dog mess at two-thirty in the morning.

It was .... [YAWN] ... an awful exp... [yawn] ...erience so early ... [yawn] ... in the ... zzz zzz zzz ZZZ.....................