Passing clouds

Funeral

2007-11-27T03:03:00.000Z

The funeral will be held at Hutchcliffe wood crematorium millhouses/abbey lane
on monday 3rd december at 3 pm... all who knew my dad are more than welcome...
Rest in Peace DAD
you will me sorely missed by all

FRAN xxxx

With Deep Regret

2007-11-23T22:26:00.000Z

It is with a heavy heart and great sadness that i have to inform you all that my dad passed away at 8 pm last night (22nd november). He went very suddenly with my mum,sister and myself at his bedside and holding my hand. He is now at peace and out of pain and suffering,and he battled til the end...

I will post a notice as to when and where the funeral will be held as soon as it as confirmed on monday.....

He doesnt want anyone to mourn him , but to have a drink and celebrate his life and remember him ...........

My dad and I had a very close bond, and I will be lost without him, we were always there for each other no matter what...but it was heart-wrenching to see him suffering so much, at least now his suffering and pain is at an end.............
God Bless you Dad

FRAN xxxxx

unforseen circumstances-update

2007-11-19T22:43:00.000Z

A short note to update all readers on the health of my dad....
He went into a hospice on Friday 16th november,after speaking to the doctor we were informed he has a very short time left.
I have just returned from seeing him tonight and he is in a semi-coma,has not been responding to anything or anyone at all today. We have been been told to expect the worse over the next day or two at the most.I write this with a heavy heart, tears and sadness....
I will keep you informed asto what is happening....

As for Ruth...
what are you sorry for...... having him arrested and spending a night in the cells,at his age and in his bad state of health ..... or for putting the final nail in his coffin ( This is how his family feel) your poison has really worked this time.... hope your are proud of yourself after all he did for you and your family....

His loving daughter
fran

ps ..... he has asked not to mourn him but to have a drink and celebrate his life
so please next time you have a drink raise your glass to a great remarkable man

Unforseen circumstances

2007-10-27T01:28:00.000Z

I am Fran, youngest daughter and am writing this on behalf of my father. As you all know he has been in and out of hospital for a while, recently he collapsed and was taken back into hospital, and sadly to say he will no longer be able to write on this blog again as he wont be coming home. He hasnt got long left and is going downhill and fading fast. He has asked me to write this notice as he cannot get in touch with people personally.
If he does leave the hospital he will be going to a hospice to see out what very little time he has left.... he doesn't want you feeling sorry for him, but to celebrate his good and sometimes over-indulgent lifestyle and have a few drinks for him and to toast and remember him.
He brought me his last present today, a new dog for me to love and be loved, as my old family dog i have had for 10 years had to be put to sleep earlier this week due to illness and severe pain..... he wished it was as quick and easy for him to end the pain he is in now....
if i get the chance i will keep updating his blog on his behalf and keep you all up-to-date on how he is..... But being honest and knowing my dad as i do ..... he wont be suffering for long, and will go with the dignity he wants and deserves....

Fran

We made it!

2007-09-22T04:18:00.000Z

Yesterday evening with family and friends, we celebrated our Golden Wedding! Yes folks, fifty years of married life and we managed to survive!
The dinner was held at a hotel on the outskirts of the city, Tapton Hall, and was organized by our elder daughter, Jane.
It wasn’t a huge affair with just 20 family members and a few close friends but it was a very enjoyable evening. It was originally supposed to be a quiet dinner party but younger daughter Fran and her friend Mandy had other ideas! They turned up in fancy dress; Fran as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz and Mandy as the Wicked Witch of the West! They livened the place up no end!
I made a short speech recalling life in the fifties when we were first married and I spoke of the day when I stood next to Barbara and put a ring on her finger. Fifty years to that day, I put another ring on her finger; this time, an Eternity Ring of diamonds and sapphires. B was over the moon!
During our marriage, like most couples, we’ve had our ups and downs. We have seen times of struggle bringing up a family and times of ease when our financial position took a lift-off! As Barbara said, “Now we’re getting on a bit, we seem to have more money than time to spend it!!!”
Nevertheless, we still have a good few years left yet and if I can’t take it with me, I’m not going!

Back to Amber

2007-09-17T23:12:00.000Z

Our little kitten hasn’t been featured for some time now so in response to those asking how she is, she’s here!Amber is now 21 weeks old and growing up really fast! She eats like a pig and torments poor old Tiffi something terrible!They are, however, coming to terms with each other and it’s a case of ‘Armed neutrality’ between them.

Amber is now every inch a kitten-cat. Isn't she adorable?

Amber in playful mode... Cheeky little bugger!!!

Amber and Tiffi munching away happily!

Simple pleasures

2007-09-04T23:15:00.000Z

First of all, I must apologise for the huge delay in adding to my blog.
I have been indisposed for the last few weeks and have had no access to my PC. However, I reckon things are back to normal now.

SIMPLE PLEASURES......
All the time Iris and I were together, we were never bored. We didn’t have to be going out all the time to far-away places and expensive holidays. We found pleasure in all sorts of things and a lot of the pleasure on my part was to be able to tell Iris the history of various places and things on out travels.
Many were the times that she would ask about a building in town or a memorial she had seen. More often than not, I could tell her something about them. I’ve always possessed a brain choc-a-bloc with useless trivia and it became second nature to me. It wasn’t that Iris was thick; far from it. She’d had a reasonable education and even as a child, was quick to learn. It was just that in the past, she never had the opportunity to travel any distance. Her ignorance was merely due to the fact that she’d never been anywhere of note nor had she known anyone who could explain things to her.
However, she was an avid reader and could reel off information about things she had never seen but just read about.
Iris was no dummy when it came to work subjects. She was an expert shorthand typist and on the home front, she could use a sewing-machine like a qualified tailoress!
It became a standing joke among our friends when someone would ask about something and Iris would say, “Ok, Graeme, out with it!” As often as not, I could provide an answer.
If anyone had asked me to describe our lifestyle, I would have replied, “Idyllic.” That summed it up in just one word! We were as happy as pigs in muck!

How times have changed

2007-08-12T22:54:00.000Z

Looking back on the early 1970s, I found there was a wealth of difference between then and now. Then, there were no mobile phones, no PCs, DVDs, or CDs.
On the other hand, there were plenty of provincial cinemas, scores of Working Men’s and Social Clubs. There was plenty of late night public transport and beer was only 15 pence a pint!
There was no shame in having an eight or ten year old car; petrol was around 60 pence per gallon and cigarettes were about 40 pence per packet. When you went to a dance, you actually got hold of your partner and not merely danced round her handbag at some stupid disco!
Iris and I could go out for the whole evening and spend less than £10 on drinks, cigs, and a meal before we came home around midnight.
I remember buying a made-to-measure suit for around £40 and Iris could dress herself from top to toe for much less. You could buy a decent second-hand car for £500 and have change out of £250 for a week’s holiday! There were no Sat-Navs to guide you through some remote farmyard and life was lived at an easier pace in those days. Television wasn’t given over to chat-shows, ‘Big Bother’, ‘Castaway’, ‘I’m a Celebrity’ and other such tripe! You went to the cinema to see a film and it wasn’t trying to drive a message down your throat as you watched it.

There was no such thing as ‘Political Correctness.’ (I still don’t really know what that means!) Mosques were virtually unheard of in this country and Christmas was still Christmas and not referred to as Winterval or other extreme leftist rubbish! “Elf and Safety” had yet to come and your kids could play with conkers without having to wear eye shields. They could play Cowboys and Indians with toy guns without an Armed Response Unit turning up!
On the club scene, you could tell jokes about pakis, jews and Irishmen. Club singers would entertain you with popular ballads and you could understand the words of the songs.
Milkmen would deliver milk to your door and it wouldn’t get stolen before you got up to bring it in.
You could go into a city centre pub and sit down at a table instead of having to lean on one of those abominable misèricord seats. Local pubs had a dart-board and there was no mega-TV screen blasting out non-stop football matches. The pubs usually just had a choice of a couple of beers and you were not faced with a battery of a dozen different ‘Real Ale’ pumps. Some nights of the week, the landlord’s wife would come round with fresh bread-cake and black pudding or some similar little delicacy. There were no such things as Quiz Nights or Karaoke; people made their own entertainment. These days, life in the 70s would appear dull and mundane but we enjoyed every minute of it.

The very best thing of all about the 70s, however, was that Iris was there beside me!

A very pleasant afternoon

2007-08-04T00:15:00.000Z

For several weeks now, I’ve been chatting to a very nice lady on MSN. We soon discovered we shared a common interest which made our conversations all the more enjoyable. I first met the lady on a local forum where she went under the name of Miss Moonlight. It was she, oddly enough, who came up with the name, “Amber” for our new kitten. I think I mentioned that I sent her an amber pendant as well as sending one to the lady who suggested “Jasper” for the other ginger kittie.
The other day I decided to invite Miss Moonlight round for afternoon tea; an invitation that was most readily accepted.
I picked her up from the other side of the city and introduced her to Barbara who had prepared various snacks for her visit.
However, the first thing she did was to pick up Tiffi and give her a big hug as she was basking in the back garden. When she got settled in my “den”, she saw Amber and she was almost weeping with absolute joy at cuddling her!
A lot of the time was taken up by our common interest. Later, my daughter, Fran, joined us and they got on like a house on fire!
We chatted later this evening and we were of a mind that this would be the first of many future get-togethers. We have already planned a couple of days out in the near future and no prizes for guessing where one of them will lead!

Farewell to the ‘Flickering fire.’

2007-07-26T22:08:00.000Z

I have explained before that Iris lived in an older type house that had been her mother’s home for some years before she died in 1971. After her death, the tenancy was transferred to Iris who had been living there since 1960. When I ‘moved in’ for four days a week, we decorated all the rooms and replaced the old furniture bit by bit. I wrote about this some time ago. (“A much-needed refurbishment,” April 1^st 2006)
Iris was a little reluctant to get rid of the old coal fire as she said it always looked warm and inviting. I didn’t push the point because it would have cost an arm and a leg to pull it all out and replace it with either a gas or electric fire. The decision, however, was made for us by the local council who had a refurbishment project under way for such older property as this. Iris was offered a choice of either a new maisonette or a complete modernisation of her present house; she chose the latter.
The upgrade consisted of double-glazing, central heating and a new bathroom suite. There was nothing to pay, apart from a rent increase, which was understandable and we both agreed that it would be nice to have a constant heat source instead of having to lay a fire after a day’s work. The whole conversion would be done over a period of seven days and interruption would be at a minimum. (It was said!)

When the workmen arrived a couple of weeks later, they started on the house next door. We saw that their kitchen was out of action, there was no hot water, no heating and a film of dust covered every surface! We decided that when our turn came, we would leave them the keys and take ourselves off for a few days even if it meant digging into our annual holiday time.
Work started on a Thursday, if I remember correctly and we managed to live with the upset for the first couple of days but by the weekend, we realised we’d be better off out of it! We farmed Smoky out to some cat-loving friends and we spent a week in London where Iris originally wanted to go before the Paris trip last Easter. She was absolutely fascinated by the Underground system and her first sight of Big Ben lit her face up! We spent the best part of a day in the Tower of London and I took great delight in telling her some of the history about it.
I told her, of course that ‘Big Ben’ was the name of the bell and not the tower and I recounted the story of how Sir Benjamin Hall had raised the question in Parliament as to what name should be given to the huge thirteen and a half ton bell. Someone suggested “Big Ben” after Sir Benjamin and the name stuck! I think that this was an apocryphal story as the incident was never recorded on the official minutes. (Hansard) The bell first rang out on May 31^st 1859.

Incidentally, after two months, the bell cracked and had to be ’stitched’ and a lighter hammer replaced the original one. The result of the crack can be heard even now, every time the bell is rung on the hour just as the initial sound is fading.
We spent a couple of days in the East End of the city with some friends of mine and Iris was highly amused at some of the characters she met.

We returned home to find new windows, a new central heating system, a new bathroom suite complete with a separate shower cubicle and a pot-plant left by the workmen in return for our leaving tea, sugar and cans of soup for them while they had been working.
Iris remarked that the shower cubicle looked big enough for two so that evening, we just had to try it. While it was big enough for two (just!) with a bit of a squeeze, there wasn’t a lot of room left for anything else other than washing! The only sad thing about the conversion was that there could be no more poems about making love in front of the “Flickering fire.” Several of my verses have mentioned it and it really was a romantic setting. However, having a spot of nookie in front of a radiator didn’t have the same ring to it somehow!

Downfall of a nationalist

2007-07-22T18:51:00.000Z

The ex-leader of Sheffield BNP has fallen from grace and descended to an all-time low. Following his replacement as local organiser, he took up with a woman 20 years his junior and began an on-off relationship.Since then, he has completely changed. His daughter fled from home three days after her 16^th birthday to escape from years of sexual abuse. He told everyone that she had stolen £1,000 from his bank account and left without saying a word. This was not true. Her father did indeed know she was going away and he even got her a suitcase out of the loft for her to use. The story of her theft of the money was utterly false! Since then, however, he has tried every way to get her back home, even to the extent of contacting the police, the FBI and the US Immigration Department.

His daughter, now 16, has every right to be free but he doesn’t see it that way. She is now happily settled with a caring loving family and has been accepted into the local community.
His new girl-friend suffered two pregnancies in four months; each time, he took her for an abortion. Some nationalist!
While she was recovering from her second termination, he went off on a ‘Gentleman’s holiday’ to Thailand with some friends. It was there that he associated with transvestite prostitutes. (Ladyboys)
It was only through chance that his girl-friend, now his fiancée found out about it. This hardly cemented an already rocky partnership but she still moved in with him after all that!
Every shred of his nationalist principles has left him; every bit of decency he ever had has also gone. Below is the sort of creature that he was associating with on his Thailand trip.

He is still, after all this time, trying his best to make his daughter's life a misery but he fails to understand that his control has completely slipped away and he has lost her forever. His daughter and her new family have proved once and for all that love will always defeat power and corruption!

And this was the man I once called a close and loyal friend!

Back at last!

2007-07-21T15:37:00.001Z

Hi folks...
Due to the crass stupidity of Talktalk, I've been off-line for about two weeks now.
I have several posts waiting to be published and I shall be putting them on the blog in due course.
Many thanks to Sarah for monitoring the blog while I was away.

Graeme

2007-07-18T22:10:00.000Z

I just thought that I would leave a posting to let all the readers of the blog know that Graeme is having internet trouble and does not know when he will be back online. I hope that it will be soon but that is down to his ISP. Please keep checking back to this blog, as I'm sure he'll post again as soon as he is back online.

Have you ever been to Bakewell?

2007-07-12T20:24:00.000Z

Bakewell is one of the most beautiful market towns in Derbyshire nestling in the Peak District. It has a wealth of lore and legend and is famous for its Bakewell tarts; although they call them puddings there!
There is a plethora of “Olde Tea Shoppes” and antiques shops around and there are quite a few decent pubs in the town as well. There is a flourishing outdoor market with fresh produce on offer at very reasonable prices. All in all, it’s a very good place in which to spend a day out.
There is just one problem……. Parking!!!!!
Parking in Bakewell is nigh on impossible unless you use the public car-park across the river away from the town. It’s a good half-mile from the hub of things and takes all the pleasure out of going there. Besides, if I have to walk half a mile from the nearest parking slot, my interest in the place wanes immediately!
Traffic wardens in Bakewell have an inbuilt Radar system and will swoop out of nowhere to slap a ticket on any car that dares to park on the street. As far as private transport is concerned, Bakewell is a no-go area!
It’s a pity because I often go there to get meat from a purveyor in the market-place. The meat is of excellent quality and I usually get three or four large joints and a load of steak. I shall be going back there shortly to stock up on meat and also to get some nice tender liver for the cats. Tiffi goes crackers about liver and no doubt our little furry baby, Amber, will be just as keen once she’s tasted it. I shall be taking my younger daughter with me (Fran) so I suppose I’ll get stung into buying her lunch. She usually ends up getting a meal when I take her anywhere. Crafty lass, is our Fran!

More Amber…

2007-07-01T18:53:00.000Z

Amber is now starting to explore her surroundings and is taking an interesting all sorts of things. She has been wormed recently and this resulted in her not wanting to tish!

However, yesterday, I’m pleased to say that she had her first tish . Unfortunately, it wasn’t in the litter tray but under the table….. Guess who had to scrorm (lovely descriptive word) under the table to clean it up? Not to worry; that’s what kittens do.

More pics…

"I'm waiting for Graeme to come here."

"Wot's all this then?!

Hey, don't tell Tiffi but I'm in her place!!!"

Amber is now becoming really kittenish. She climbs up my knees and onto my lap then jumps across to Barbara. She is eating well and occasionally has been seen finishing off a few scraps that Tiffi has left!
B succeeded in getting both Tiffi and Amber together on her knee and a state of armed neutrality existed. They aren't exactly buddy-buddies yet but there's no real animosity. I reckon that time will smooth the differences.

More pics soon!

A different kind of cat!

2007-06-29T18:58:00.000Z

Another little feline problem raised its head recently. A dear friend of mine now living in the US, asked me to do her a favour; naturally, I told her I would oblige.
I passed the request onto someone I know (or knew) thinking she would lend a sympathetic hand in helping me to do what I had been asked. All I wanted was for her to send me a pic of Monty, Sarah’s cat, that she had to leave behind when she fled home. Sarah really loved Monty and she was missing him. I just wanted a couple of photographs of him to send on to her. It wasn’t much to ask, surely!
Sadly, the help was not forthcoming; indeed, I never even got the courtesy of a reply. Unfortunately, without the aid of that person, I couldn’t fulfil my resolve to help.. It was no big deal and would only have taken a few minutes to accomplish. Instead, due to her insane hatred of Sarah, because she had the guts and determination to succeed after escaping a lifetime of abuse, the woman bombarded me with obnoxious posts, even to the extent of defaming the name of my late partner, Iris. She also complained to the police that I was harassing her!

Harassing her? She never complained about harassment when she came to me for money! She never complained when I was paying her bills for her and she never complained when I used to take her out for lunch when she said she’d not eaten that day as she had no food in the house!
In all honesty, I can say that I have never met such a vindictive and spitefully malicious creature in my life before.
May she descend into the pit and scream for all eternity!

Welcome home Amber!

2007-06-27T20:36:00.000Z

The very first thing we did after our Scottish break was to look forward to picking up Amber from my daughter’s place. We had already got cat-litter trays and non-toxic wood-chip cat-lit. We had stocked up on kitten treats and we were going to get some special easily-digestible kitten milk. Unfortunately, on our return, due to torrential rain, many of the roads were flooded and consequently, we were late getting back. The roads were still impassable the next day so there was no chance of Amber coming.We were so looking forward to having her; it was a great disappointment when she couldn’t be with us. Tiffi, however, didn’t appear to be bothered about this. All she wanted was a cuddle and a treat after our absence. We hoped that the floods would abate and the roads would be clear very soon.

Today, Fran announced that the roads were now open and she’d be bringing Amber over this afternoon. Around 2.30pm, she walked in with a tiny ball of fluff in her hands and dumped it on my knee! Amber opened one eye, yawned and snuggled down on my chest She was home!

"What's in it for me?"

Fran with Amber

"This isn't the comfiest of places!"

These are the very first shots of Amber taken half an hour after she arrived. Don't worry folks, there'll be a lot more soon!

A nightmare journey!

2007-06-26T13:50:00.000Z

Coming back from Scotland yesterday was really horrendous!
It was raining when we hit the M.90 around Perth and continued while we navigated the labyrinthine ring-roads and by-passes of Edinburgh.
We had a break around Jedburgh where we had completed 200 miles and after that, the rain came down extremely heavy! The border at Carter Bar on the A.68 was absolutely desolate; nobody wanted to stop to admire the view this day!
A big problem was the spray created by heavy traffic when we eventually reached the A1 north of Scotch Corner. We stayed for about half an hour at a ‘Little Chef’ pull-in for coffee and a rest.
When we eventually reached the outskirts of Sheffield we found ourselves caught up in a three-mile long traffic jam due to some pile-up further ahead.
On entering the city, we were again held up for an hour due to excessive flooding of the roads. We never realised the seriousness of the situation until we got home and saw the news on TV. It made local and national prime coverage.

Even today, many roads in the city are impassable; schools are closed and public transport is badly affected. Meadowhall, one of the largest shopping complexes in Europe has been closed for two days due to excessive flooding.
Worst of all, my daughter lives in an area hit by the floods and she can’t get out to me and I can’t get over to see her so little Amber will not be here just yet.
Bugger it… I reckon I’m going to stay in and keep dry!

Mandy Maureen Wright… (1962-1997)

2007-06-19T14:08:00.000Z

Today I kept my promise to remember Sarah’s mum’s birthday and I placed a garland of twenty red carnations on her grave on behalf of Sarah; these were her favourite flowers. Sarah is strongly attached to her mother’s memory and it gives her much solace to know how much she loved her. I recorded the tragic death of Mandy earlier in my blog and Sarah has devoted a large portion of her forthcoming autobiography to her memory.

I know only too well what it’s like to lose a loved one; it leaves a gap that can never be filled. For them to be remembered down the years is one way of ensuring their immortality. May Mandy rest in peace knowing that she’s not forgotten.

On a lighter note, we shall be going up to Scotland for a few days tomorrow and I have made ample provision for the cats; both Tiffi and Amber. Tiffi will be cared for by a friendly neighbour who is as bonkers about cats as we are and Amber will be staying a little longer with her mum.
We shall be away from around the 20^th to the 25^th or 26^th. When we get back, Amber will be ready to come to us! I can hardly wait!!!

Editing

2007-06-17T17:40:00.000Z

Hi There,

I am just letting all the readers of this blog know that over the next hour or two I will be editing the background color of this page to make it easier on the eyes. I have already spoken to Graeme about this and he is happy with it. I thought I would warn you in case you came to visit the blog during the time of my formatting. The page may look rather strange until I am done.

Thank You for your Patience.

-- Sarah

Oi… Wot about me???

2007-06-15T23:50:00.000Z

Hi folks, I’m Tiffi
For the past twelve years, I’ve looked after Graeme and Barbara. I’ve always let them share my home and I have tried to make their friends welcome whenever they call round.
Sometimes, it hasn’t been easy. I’m expected to be picked up and dumped on some stranger’s knee while they make stupid cooing noises at me and tickling me under my chin! I’m also expected to chase my ass off jumping up and down for a piece of string or playing hide-and-seek under a chair.
When visitors bring their little brats with them, I have to suffer the indignities of having my tail pulled, being wrapped up in a scarf or put in a dolls’ pram.
A few days ago, I heard that there is another cat coming to share my home. This is a very young kitten and I suppose it will be spoilt bloody rotten! I can just see it now; saucers of flaked chicken, special goats’ milk, a comfy little basket and endless silly baby-talk like “Oosaboofuls?” and “Gizzakiss.” It’s enough to make you puke!

I know exactly what will happen; the little pest will start clambering all over me thinking I’m its mum and expecting to be washed and groomed every few minutes. Anyway, this little pillock isn’t going to think it can do what it likes.
I’ll still expect my bit of space on the hearthrug and I don’t want the little horror trying to climb upstairs to sleep on my corner of Graeme’s bed. Furthermore, my usual place on the top of his printer is sacrosanct when I want to watch him on his computer. However, I presume I’ll have to make a few concessions but I’m still gonna be the boss and that’s that!
Gawwddd… It’s enough to send a cat out on the tiles all bloody night!

Cat-lit... The new menace?

2007-06-11T21:07:00.000Z

This was sent to me by an old friend who has always been a firm supporter of environmental issues. It provides food for thought about a problem that few of us ever considered.
Thanks, Bev, for bringing this to our attention.

"Re cat litter - I don't know what kind you use/have picked but an RVT (reg. vet tech) on-line friend of mine in the US is passing this onto everyone she knows who has cats. The DVM she works for apparently has inside information to back this up and she will be passing this on when she has permission. I have her permission to cross-post.
Not only is cat litter unsafe for the environment; according to the Bureau of Waste Management, approximately 8 billion pounds of kitty litter is dumped into landfill sites every year! Apparently that is over twice the amount of disposable diapers! Not only this! Clay cat litter is made from silicon particles which explains why there is dust produced with clay litter. Silicon particles, as we know, are a known carcinogenic and that means breathing in these particles can not only cause cancer, but also respiratory diseases. This is according to the International Agency for Research on Cancer.

When your cat goes to cover his waste, the dust is kicked about everywhere; the dust becomes an invasive intruder. Research has shown that silicon particles do indeed cause cancer-like symptoms in laboratory rats but so far, there is no data available to say if it does the same in cats. However, there does exist evidence that silicon causes problems in humans. Case studies have also shown that cats with respiratory problems have 6 times the amount of silica in their lungs than healthy cats. If this is what’s happening to cats then just imagine what it’s doing to humans who have twice the lung capacity. The studies are overshadowed by the needs of cat owners and the availability and ease of using cat litter. It has also been shown that kittens, because they lay down in the litter, are more at risk. Also because kittens then lick themselves clean."

On the face of it, this information is very disturbing. My own view is that although the amount of cat-lit dumped on landfill sites is a serious problem, my immediate concern is for the cats! I shall most certainly look for an alternative to kitty-training even if I have to replace the cat-lit in the tray with old newspapers until she is old enough to use the garden.
Comments please.

I was right!

2007-06-08T19:33:00.000Z

Yup, no sooner had this posting been published then up pops Ruth with a plethora of abuse and hate-mail.
I accept that the woman is mentally unbalanced but surely even she must realise that her puerile messages get immediately deleted upon receipt.
Not to worry, my back is broad enough to take it and I even have the scars there from last time!

A very big thank you!

2007-06-07T01:36:00.000Z

Quite a lot of interest has been shown about the new kittens on our local forum. It is now running to several pages in length.
I had quite a few suggestions for names for the kittens and two stood out from the rest. Both were very apt names..

I decided to show my appreciation to the two ladies who came up with the names and I sent them each a pendant. One was an amber pendant and the other was Jasper.
There was even a bonus in it… Both the ladies are charming and intelligent so I’ve made two new friends into the bargain!

I have no doubt in my mind that a certain reader of my blog will bust a gut trying to spread the poison around about this.

Go on, Ruth… Make my day!

Six weeks old today!

2007-06-02T19:08:00.000Z

The little kittens are now six weeks old and are starting to grow up. They are lapping milk, eating a little solid food and learning to use the sh…. Sorry, litter tray!
I think that after another couple of weeks, we shall be welcoming one of the furry kits into our family and no doubt she’ll be smothered with cuddles and affection.
We have already bought her a basket, a litter tray, tins of kitten food and a few toys. (Are we crackers or what?) It’s a long time since we had a tiny kitten to look after so we will be relying on past memory and good advice. I’ll keep you posted about Amber’s progress with plenty of pics

A wedding

2007-05-29T23:54:00.000Z

It was in June 1976 when Andrea dropped a bombshell.
Andrea, as readers will doubtlessly know, was my secretary, Girl Friday, second mother and close friend. I had inherited her from her previous boss about five years before and she was my right arm. She was a divorcee in her early forties and worth her weight in diamonds!
She came to me one morning and announced she was getting married again. This didn’t come as a surprise as I knew she had been thinking about it for some time. Now that her boy-friend had recently got his decree absolute, there was nothing to stop them.
I suppose it was selfish of me to think that they wouldn’t be starting a family and thereby losing Andrea but I was very relieved when she said that she wouldn’t be leaving.

That weekend, she and her fiancé held a small party for work friends and naturally, Iris and I were invited. The party was held in a pub we had all been to before and it was a very lively affair.
Andrea said that they were to be married in September, just three months away. In the meantime, they were buying a house and completely redecorating it.
Andrea had two sons; one newly-married and the other engaged but still at university. See blog March 2006) Her husband-to-be was an old friend of mine with no offspring and I was really glad they were finally tying the knot.
The wedding day dawned; it was bright and sunny. Iris and I were there to see them married and we watched as they drove away to a honeymoon in Italy. Iris was a little weepy but that could have been expected. She was very happy for Andrea but couldn’t help feeling a little sad; weddings often do that to women.
Later that night, we went out for dinner. Iris wore the same costume as she had done for the wedding; she looked lovely and I told her so. She said she felt just as much married as Andrea was. She knew I loved her and that was all that mattered. This was typical of her; unselfish and devoted.

A very welcome reunion

2007-05-26T11:05:00.001Z

A few weeks ago in early March, I literally bumped into an old friend I hadn’t seen for over five years. The lady, Vanessa, was a fellow-member of my Boat Club and we spent many a weekend together swanning up and down the Trent and the Humber. I have mentioned this lady in passing in my blog. (“A one-off” Jan. 22^nd 2006)

We had both changed a bit since then but we are still close friends. I’ve always had a soft spot for Nessie, as she was known in the club, and it’s really good to be seeing her again. I first met her in 1987 when she and her husband had a boat moored near mine. Being members of the same club, it was only natural that we spent weekends together either in the clubhouse or on board our boats. A few years later she got divorced but continued her club membership even though hubby had got the boat and she settled for the house.
Nessie would join us on board for an odd weekend. She was a very useful crew member as she could navigate and man the VHF radio while Barbara was preparing meals, etc.
Shortly afterwards, she left the area to work in Reading and I never saw her again until recently. We had kept in touch by the odd letter and phone call but it was a most pleasant surprise to meet her again.

Nessie has most certainly spiced up my life quite a bit as we share a common interest in things I am heavily absorbed in at the moment. She is delightful company and we celebrated our reunion with a dinner date. Where did we go? To the Pack, of course!

A slight little (furry) problem…

2007-05-23T18:56:00.000Z

I’ve just realised that I’m going to be faced with a problem. In a few weeks’ time when we shall be going on holiday, there will be a very tiny kitten to look after. How we’re going to get round that one, God knows!
We always look after our daughter’s cats when they are away but it is quite easy for us as we have plenty of time and not restricted by regular working hours. My daughter and husband are in full-time work which makes it difficult for them to reciprocate when having to make a fifty mile round trip every time.
Normally, our immediate next-door neighbours look after Tiffi but they have moved recently and the house is now occupied by students. Whether or not they will oblige, I don’t know. Somehow, they don’t look the type to be concerned with domestic animal welfare. Tiffi, however, is no problem; she will wander up the lane to another neighbour three doors away, who will feed her and keep an eye on her. She will be able to come and go as she pleases via the cat-flap. The real problem will concern the little newcomer. The suggestion of a cattery for such a young kitten is totally unthinkable; as I said, I have a problem!

Any suggestions?

To those who said she’d never make it!

2007-05-19T19:26:00.000Z

When Sarah fled her home three days after her sixteenth birthday, the consensus of opinion was that she would be back within a month. She would be clamouring to return home, a sadder but wiser girl. Over six months have passed and although a lot wiser, sadness has never come into it!Sarah has bonded with her new family and is an accepted and respected member of her community.

There is a small selection of pics here to give you an idea of Sarah’s present lifestyle.
Eat your heart out!!!!

Sarah busy on her estate!

Planting out in her herb garden

Target practice!

Below is Sarah's pet snake

Don’t tread on me! Christopher Gadsden 1724-1805)

"And don't tread on me either!" (Sarah Cain 1990-?)

The long-awaited pics...

2007-05-17T23:22:00.000Z

The kittens are not yet a month old and these are the very first shots of them.
They are still a little wobbly on their legs but they are so very, very, adorable!

This is Jet

Jasper, Jet and Amber

Here they are again!

Amber!

Can you imagine anything more beautiful? I can't wait until Amber is old enough to leave her mum.

Sarah… A happy outcome

2007-05-16T23:05:00.000Z

At several points in my blog, I have made reference to a young friend who suffered greatly from abuse at the hands of her guardians. I never went into great detail and I never mentioned her name.
She had a very miserable childhood but for all that, she possessed a degree of intelligence that made her virtually a child prodigy.

She built her own PC at thirteen and was an acclaimed public speaker on the nationalist scene as a member of the Young B.N.P. Behind the facade, however, was a frightened bullied girl who was subjected to evil mind-control by an Internet paedophile. Sadly it came to a situation where she couldn’t bear her present environment any longer and three days after her sixteenth birthday, she ran away from home to a new life in the U.S.
She crept out of the house in the very early hours of the morning. (already having obtained flight tickets) got a taxi to the station, went to Manchester Airport, boarded a flight to New York, changed airlines and flew to her new home in the Southern States. A valiant achievement for one so young!
Now, six months later, despite pathetic attempts from her father to disrupt her life, she’s a totally different person. Gone are the fears, gone are the nightmares and she is now settled with a loving and caring family.

At present, she is working on an autobiography of her young life. (warts and all!) When published, it will raise a few eyebrows! She is also speaking at local schools in the area on the subjects of Parental Abuse and Domestic Violence. She is well-equipped to speak as she has had a great deal of previous experience; it is only the subject matter that has changed. Her deliverance is as good as ever and she is now fast becoming recognised as a young counsellor for children who have suffered similar abuse that she did.
Sarah has picked up the threads of her life and woven a new rich pattern. She is living in a very beautiful surrounding and has taken to growing plants and herbs. She has also amassed a small menagerie comprising of a hamster, two doves, a dog, a cat and a rabbit. (Plus the occasional snake curled up in her rockery!)

From the frightened, abused girl that she was, has blossomed a young lady with confidence and the will and ability to enjoy life to the full. Very shortly, I shall be publishing a few pics of her in her new environment thus proving wrong, once and for all, the sceptics who said she would never make it!

Tempus fugit!

2007-05-14T13:47:00.000Z

This year seems to have flown! It’s the middle of May; another month and half the year will have gone! It’s time to think about holidays; where to go, what to see.
I have already planned to go back down to Brighton and up to Scotland again. I love both these places although the Brighton journey via the M25 is a little boring and usually the road is choc-a-bloc with traffic. The Scotland run is quiet by comparison and there are several stopping-off places worth calling at.
I’m hoping for a trip back to Germany if I can fit it in. I haven’t been there for about five or six years and I would love to see old friends again.

This first half of the year hasn’t exactly been a bed of roses but it certainly was an improvement on the previous year. To date, I’ve found a couple of old friends with whom I thought I’d lost contact.
One of them is an ex-member of the NF back in the early 70s and the other is a very charming lady I first met in the late 80s. I spent a very enjoyable weekend with Dave B and we reminisced about old times, old comrades and how things have changed so dramatically on the nationalist scene
I found the lady, Vanessa, (Nessie) as delightfully bubbly as ever and it was a great pleasure to see her again.
I have to plan the holidays with a little more thought this year. I have several prior engagements in June and July that I cannot defer so it will be a case of a few days here and a few days there, so to speak.

Missing you

2007-05-10T21:54:00.000Z

.I haven’t published any poetry on here for some time now. Several readers have asked me to include some. I’m pleased that you like my verses so I shall oblige…

There was nothing as romantic as the nights we spent in front of the old coal fire on winter evenings. We would sit and stare into the flames and tell each other our dreams. They were warm, cosy nights and we were in love.
Recently, I happened upon a small country pub that had a cheerful fire burning in the grate. I hadn’t seen a coal fire for ages. I sat there in front of the fire with a drink in my hands and my mind slipped back thirty-odd years.
The flickering effect mesmerized me and I started thinking about those days so long ago. I just had to write about it.

Sitting by the fire…

I’m staring at the flames that dance before my eyes,
I’m gazing at the embers as they glow,
And I shed a tear or two as I remember you,
And I see you there as you were long ago.

I see you on a summer’s day; you’re looking up at me
And smiling, as I see you standing there.
I tell you how I miss those lips I used to kiss,
As the gentle breeze blows softly through your hair.

You’re in my heart, you’re in my dreams, forever by my side,
And thinking of you, turn to thoughts sublime,
And sitting by the fire, my heart fills with desire
To lie with you and love you one more time.

I look into those burning coals and think of times gone by,
When you and I did live and love as one.
And through the smoky haze, I can see those far-off days,
Alas, my love; they are forever gone!

Loved by all

2007-05-08T21:23:00.000Z

When starting to write this account of Iris, I found myself in a quandary. Where do I begin? How can I explain why she was so very special? What did she possess that nobody else I had ever known have? Why was she so popular with all my friends and family? Why did they love her?
I have asked several people who are still around who knew her for their views.

To answer all these questions, I must start right at the beginning of our relationship when I first got to know Iris. At that time, she was just another girl whom one would pass in the street without so much as a second glance. She was a quiet mouse-like creature who hardly ever went out and for many years stayed at home looking after her idle semi-invalid mother who never worked in her entire life! However, for some reason I was instantly attracted to her; maybe it was because of her eyes. They were the most beautiful grey eyes I’d ever seen. I was mesmerized by them and from then on, I was smitten!
Iris wasn’t a dummy however. She was hard-working and held a responsible position as a shorthand typist with a commercial company in the city. She had studied shorthand at night-school after first joining the firm she worked for and soon became most proficient.
However, her social life was virtually non-existent before we met. I have explained this before in early posts in my blog, so regular readers will remember how it was.

At the time of our early relationship, the only people who knew about us were our very close friends; friends from work and social friends. Neither of our families was involved at this stage and it was over a year before they found out. Iris’s family were virtually non-existent and rarely contacted her. By that time, we were in a deep and lasting relationship.
I think the greatest quality of Iris was that she could readily adapt to any situation. This was a throwback from her childhood while in care. She realised from an early age that as a socially labelled ‘Deprived child’, she had to perform just that little bit better in her school work than the rest of her classmates. Fortunately for her, she was naturally intelligent and her school days were very happy even though she had been separated from her family. (see blog dated Feb. 06^th 2006, The early years)
When I first met Iris she was very withdrawn and not a good mixer. Apart from an unhappy on-off relationship that had lasted for around a year and fizzled out long before I met her, she never had a regular boyfriend. I remember the first few times we went out together; she was decidedly uncomfortable inasmuch that she wasn’t used to the attention she was being given. However, it wasn’t long before Iris blossomed out into an entirely different person who became instantly popular with my friends and acquaintances. A classic example was when my younger daughter first met Iris. She was immediately captivated by her even though it was long before she realised just how important she was in my life.

My mother, a stickler for family values also became very fond of her and accepted the fact that we were lovers despite her great affection for my wife. It was largely due to my mother that Iris became fashion-conscious. She had never really bothered about make-up and dressy clothes, as before we met, she never went out anywhere. After we became an ‘item’, she was mixing with my friends from work and with others and she gradually emerged from her shell. By the time mother and Iris met, (see blog May 20^th 2006) she was taking great pride in her appearance and later, with mother’s help, she was encouraged to develop her social status; something she would never have dreamed of doing earlier. My mother wasn’t a snob in any way but she took Iris under her wing and introduced her to the ‘Coffee morning’ clique just as she had done with my wife several years earlier. I remember my mother taking her to be fitted for a smart costume. Iris had never worn anything like this before and she took to her new image like a duck to water! Mother was immensely proud of her ‘creation’ and they became firm friends until the day she died.
When eventually, my wife found out about Iris, it wasn’t long before she invited her to dinner and to join her in shopping expeditions. I once asked Barbara about how she felt towards Iris and she replied, “I can’t hate her or be jealous; she’s so very nice!” This was an opinion echoed by most of my friends who knew her.
Looking back, I realise I was so very lucky to have the three most important people in my life, my mother, wife and Iris in close harmony with each other.

Very soon after our relationship was cemented, every time I was invited out, it was always the same… “Will you be bringing Iris?” or if I went anywhere on my own, it was a case of “Where’s Iris?” We were accepted as a couple almost right from the start by all our friends
Iris was the first to help anyone in trouble. I suppose that this was due to her having had such a rough childhood herself. She was always there to lend an ear or to comfort. She was more than just a loving partner to me, more than just a good friend to others; she was a bloody saint!
Her funeral was attended by almost a hundred people; six from her family and all the rest were our close friends and work colleagues. This showed just how much she was loved.
Now, twenty-seven years after her death, she still lives on in my heart. I have a constant reminder of her in the form of a small photograph sitting on my desktop that I gaze at several times each day and I love her just as much now as I did all those years ago.

Kittens again!

2007-05-07T00:06:00.000Z

When we finally get our new kitten, we shall have to remember how we coped the last time. We aren’t used to rearing kittens as most of our moggies adopted us when fully grown.
The only exception to this was over thirty years ago in 1975 when we took in a stray. It was in February of that year and I happened to notice a marmalade coloured cat sniffing round the back door one evening. This was when I was staying with Iris and neither of us had seen it before. It was obviously a stray as when we let it in (and who wouldn’t?) it gobbled virtually everything we fed it.
Iris told me that the cat looked as though it had been neglected for some time so we set about cleaning her up a little. It was then that Iris discovered she was heavily preggers! What were we to do? We had a cat already to look after, Smokie, who had been with us for about a year. She was used to being on her own during the day as we were both out at work but to take in another cat was going to be very difficult especially if she was going to give birth at any time.

Back at the family home, we had a large Newfoundland Labrador, as daft as a brush but no cats. I decided to take the newcomer home with me where it could be properly looked after.
I told a bit of a white lie to my wife saying I’d come across the cat near work and couldn’t leave it to wander about on its own. I omitted telling her of the suspected condition it was in! Barbara immediately fussed around the moggie and the dog, Sheba, never batted an eyelid.
Surprise, surprise! Two days later after coming in from work, Barbara told me that the cat, now called Smudge, had given birth to four kittens! They were all various shades of ginger/black/white and the mother had taken them upstairs and kept them in the front bedroom in the ‘Walk-in’ wardrobe. (Some folks call it a clothes closet!) The kittens all survived and were visited every day by the dog, Sheba, who insisted on washing them until they looked like pieces of wet string!

To cut a long story short, we found homes for two of the kitties but the other two remained with us for the next twenty-odd years. I hope that our new kitten will enjoy life with us as much as they did! I dunno how Tiffi (our present moggie) will think about it but I reckon she will take it in good faith..
As soon as the kittens are old enough, I'll take some shots and post them on here

April in Paris Easter 1974 (Epilogue)

2007-05-04T18:42:00.000Z

The mini-series has finally ended and I hope you enjoyed reading it.
That break was very memorable, as although it was only for a few days, we thoroughly enjoyed it. As I have said before, we had many holidays together and much longer ones but this one has always stood out as something special. I think that I got as much pleasure out of showing Iris the delights of the city as she got out of being there.
After our return, I did find a suitable venue where Iris could wear her beautiful scarlet dress for the first time and she looked an absolute picture! After her death, I took the dress away as I couldn’t bear to think of anyone else wearing it so I disposed of it in an incinerator along with several other items of her clothing. Mind you, after the ‘vultures’ had been round, there were precious few things left as I have mentioned before!

I have often been asked why Iris was so very special apart from the fact that she loved me so much.
I shall, in the course of the next few days, try to explain this ‘Special’ quality and the effect she had on my friends, my family and, of course, on me.

Kitten update...

2007-05-01T14:42:00.000Z

I went to see the little kittens at my daughter’s place today. Only just over a week old and they have opened their eyes! They look absolutely gorgeous and I can’t wait until they are old enough to leave their mother.
There are three of them; one black and two ginger. The black kitten and one of the gingers are toms. At present, there is no name for the black one but he already has a home waiting.
The ginger tom and queen will be called Jasper and Amber respectively. I think we shall finish up with Amber as my wife thinks a queen will get along better with Tiffi, our present cat.
I owe a big ‘Thank you’ to several people on our local forum for suggesting names. I have already chosen a couple of very suitable prezzies for the two who came up with 'Jasper' and 'Amber'.

Incidentally, this is the 200th blog I have posted since I opened it on New Year's Day 2006

April in Paris Easter 1974 (Pt. 4)

2007-04-30T05:03:00.000Z

Envoi
As I explained earlier, it was a mini-break and Sunday came all too soon. We were due to return that evening on the night ferry but at least we had all day Sunday to spend looking around the city.
We saw a very lively market and browsed around for a bit before lunching in a quiet bistro.
Afterwards, we walked along a large shopping centre in the heart of Paris where many of the shops were open; I’d forgotten about the Continental Sundays!
Suddenly Iris gave a shriek that nearly deafened me.. “Look at that!” she cried. “That” was a cocktail length dress in deep scarlet. I must admit it looked very good. (and also very expensive!) Iris looked at the dress and looked at me. I remembered my promise to buy her a new dress while we were here so we entered the boutique. We looked around but Iris only had eyes for the scarlet creation; she tried it on. Iris was a very standard shape, 34B (just) and a slim waist. The dress fitted and she swirled around in front of the mirror! She looked exquisite in it but there again, she would have looked just as good in a bin-liner to my eyes! I remember thinking as we walked out of the shop with Iris clutching a large bag with the boutique’s name boldly emblazoned on it, that it was going to cost me another packet to take her somewhere to wear it when we got back home!

We left Paris at around 4pm and had a surprise stop at Amiens. We went into the city where dinner had been arranged. Before that, we ambled around the old place. It was the scene of a battle in August 1918 when Australian troops captured the city from German occupation.
An interesting fact is that in the cathedral, which was built in the early 13^th Century, is kept the head of John the Baptist! Every year on July 24^th, the head is paraded round the place on a cushion. Mind you, as Iris pointed out, it must be a bit niffy by now!
We left Amiens around 8pm and headed back to Calais and the ferry. For some reason or other, we missed one sailing and had to wait until 11.15 pm before we could board.
The night crossing was uneventful and there were no delays passing through customs. In those days, the limit on cigs. was 200 per person and as both of us smoked, we made sure we got our full allocation!
We got back home just before 5am Monday. We were tired but we had enjoyed the break immensely.
Monday was a bank holiday, of course but we spent most of the day in bed catching up on some sleep. We went out that evening with some friends and Iris regaled them with the weekend trip. She said that she wanted to go again; I promised her that we would!

Thick and fast!

2007-04-27T22:28:00.000Z

Suggestions for names for our new moggie are pouring in!
While some of them are old hackneyed names that have done the rounds for years, like ‘Ginger’ and ‘Tigger,’ some new ones have been mooted.
like ‘Chivers’ and another lady, ‘Moonbird’, has suggested ‘Amber.’ I quite like that one.
Another suggestion was Jasper. This could be an ideal name. Red Jasper is a quartz crystal noted for sexual compatibility. Mind you, I reckon we’ll have to make sure the kitten is neutered in that case!!!

April in Paris Easter 1974 (Pt.3)

2007-04-25T20:36:00.000Z

Gay Paree!
The next day, Saturday, we went down to breakfast or, in this case, petit déjeuner! It was a typical French meal comprising of crusty rolls, butter and confitures. (jam, to you!)
We were sharing the table with another couple who were a lot older than we were. It was their first trip to Paris and we had noticed them the evening before in the lounge bar. The man, Alf, as it happened, said “Eyoop, tha goin’ ter get an eyful o’ t’tower?” I shuddered inwardly! I learned later that they came from Barnsley; I might have guessed!
Naturally, the Eiffel Tower was a priority on our itinerary and we made our way towards it enjoying the scenery alongside the river. Iris was in a flippant mood, singing an old French song, “Sur les ponts de Paris” giving a passable impression of Eartha Kitt! We were walking hand-in-hand like a couple of teenagers but who cared? We were in Paris and we were in love!

The weather was very kind to us while we were there and our ascent up the tower really got to Iris. She’d never seen anything like it before, apart from a day-trip to Blackpool some years previously!
Naturally, we had coffee and gateaux in the café at the top of the Tower. Iris selected some postcards to send back and posted them there to get the special “Tour d’Eiffel” postmark. She was doing quite well, I reckoned. She had gone to the kiosk, bought the cards and the stamps, paid with francs and “Mercy bucketed” the sales girl. Iris was certainly turning quite Gallic!
It was quite warm for April so forsaking lunch for a baguette, we made our way to the river. There were trip boats on the Seine and we opted for a journey downstream. There was plenty to see from the river and we both enjoyed the tranquil navigation through the heart of the city.

That evening, there was an optional trip to the Moulin Rouge. About half a dozen of us decided to go and we arrived there about 7pm. Everybody was given a half-bottle of champagne as a courtesy and the meals were absolutely the finest that Paris could offer. I remember choosing escargots in garlic butter sauce for starters followed by fillet of beef in red wine. Iris also had the beef but demurred at snails, opting for moules marinière instead.
I had seen the show a couple of times before, some years ago, but Iris had never seen anything like it. There were two hours of non-stop entertainment including, of course, the famous ‘Can-Can dance.’ She enjoyed every minute of it; she was absolutely over the moon!
We returned to the hotel in the early hours of the morning after a wonderful night and proceeded to do what every other lover in Paris was doing!!!

A most happy event...!

2007-04-23T19:45:00.000Z

Yesterday, my daughter’s cat had kittens. Three beautiful bundles of fur; one black and two ginger.
Naturally, they don’t have their eyes open yet and are so very, very tiny.
I’m a sucker for animals, especially cats and we have decided to adopt one of the ginger kittens
I don’t know how this decision will go down with Tiffi, our present lovable and adored pussy but I think she may take to the newcomer very well.
It will be a couple of months before they can be separated from their mum and in the meantime, we have to think of a suitable name for him/her.
Forty years ago, we had a couple of ginger cats called Rusty and Rufus who both lived for over 20 years. They were wonderful companions.
Any suggestions for a name for this one?

April in Paris Easter 1974 pt 2

2007-04-20T15:03:00.001Z

Ooo, la la!
The Easter weekend was approaching and Iris was becoming a little nervous about the trip. I reassured her that it was no big deal; a trip to France wasn’t much different from a trip to Scotland in travel time but she was worried in case she became sea-sick. I told her that I’d crossed the channel several times with no ill effects and it wasn’t as though it was a long crossing; just about two hours.
I stayed overnight with Iris on the Thursday before we set off. She was so excited she could hardly sleep. It was an early start and 5am saw us having a light breakfast. 5am is, in my opinion, strictly reserved for late night revellers and stray cats! However, we boarded the coach and were away just after 6.
I remember we stopped twice en-route to Dover; once at Leicester Forest services on the M1 to pick up a few more passengers and again just after Dartford Tunnel for a coffee break.

We arrived at Dover around 11.30am in time for the noon ferry to Calais. Once on board, Iris was almost jumping up and down like a six-year old at Christmas! We stayed on deck as the ferry cleared the harbour and Iris gulped a little as the boat met the rollers as we entered the Channel. She was fine after the first gentle sway and we went below as it was rather dull and overcast and it was starting to rain. (Well, it was a Bank Holiday; what do you expect?)
We had a light lunch and Iris was looking out of the window at the sea. She said she felt fine and no queasiness at all. She was really enjoying the crossing.
We arrived at Calais around 2pm; although it was 3pm Central European Time. There were no hold-ups and we were on our way to Paris!

The coach only stopped once, just outside Abbéville for a short break. We went into the cafeteria for coffee and croissants and something Iris said started me laughing fit to bust! She turned to me and said, “Isn’t it funny? Everyone’s speaking French!” Some members of our coach party were nearby and they too heard her and were chuckling away. As we approached the check-out with our snack, I reached for some money (Francs) and paid the cashier. She was asking me if I’d come far and I replied we had travelled from England and were going to Paris. Iris thought it so strange to hear me speaking in French. She had learned the language, albeit rudimentary, in her school days but had never spoken it since. I told her that now was the time to remember some of it! She made a face at me and said, “Mercy bucket! How about that?”

We got to Paris just before 7.30pm and the hotel staff were on hand with dinner as soon as we’d checked in and cleaned up. The meal was excellent and by that time, we were ready for it. Afterwards, we took a stroll round the area, although it was getting dusk by now. In the distance, the Eiffel Tower was lit up and I told Iris that we would be going there in the morning. We popped into a small bistro for a couple of drinks and then went back to the hotel for the rest of the evening. There was a piano-accordion player entertaining the guests and we sat around for a while. We were both very tired after the journey so we had an early night. We slept like logs until the morning.

Sorted!

2007-04-17T05:19:00.000Z

It looks as though the disruptive posts are a thing of the past. We have managed to eliminate unwanted remarks both in the tag-box and in the comments box.
Every time someone posts a comment, he or she leaves behind an ip reference that can be checked against known offenders.
The obvious ones, of whom there are just two, are easy to spot and stand out like a sore thumb.
Another, however, is someone with whom I though I’d buried the hatchet. Not to worry; there will be no more disruptions! This is just one of her comments:

"Pass the ash tray. Iris is here."

This evil bitch has sunk to gutter level. Although she has a severe mental problem, there is no excuse for such behaviour. Thank God she's only a cretin who can't do any lasting damage.
However, if tits were brains, she'd be a genius!!!

April in Paris 1974 (1 of 4)

2007-04-13T18:41:00.000Z

This is an account of one of the most memorable Easters we had. I hope you enjoy reading about it.

It was coming up to Easter when Iris rang me at work to tell me about an all-in four-day break in London that was being advertised in a travel agency near to where she worked. We had discussed a London trip a few weeks ago and she was looking forward to it.

It was a Friday evening and it was the day I used to take her shopping on our way home. She pointed it out to me in the window when I stopped to pick her up. I wasn’t really interested; I had already made plans for driving down there by car and staying at an hotel I knew. However, something else immediately caught my eye and I said to her, “How about Paris?” There was an offer on for a three-day trip to Paris at a very reasonable price. Iris was all for it! She had never set foot outside this country and began asking me all sorts of questions. We went into the shop and made further enquiries. It was an Easter break holiday from Good Friday to Easter Sunday. Travel by coach via Dover–Calais ferry and on to Paris. We booked then and there!

We took the brochure back home and later that evening, Iris was reading it avidly. She asked about the food and the hotels. Were they the same as the hotels here? What were the toilets like? (Women always want to know about toilets when travelling anywhere; have you noticed?)
I told her the first thing she’d need would be a passport. As it was only a short stay, she could apply for a Visitor’s Passport that was valid for a year and easily obtained at a Crown Post Office.

Saturday morning saw us in the post office where there was a photo-booth. It took all of fifteen minutes for her to get a passport. The next thing was the age-old cry, “What shall I wear?” I said she had enough suitable clothes without needing any more but I promised to buy her a dress from a Parisian boutique. That did the trick!
Easter that year was from April 12^th-15^th and we were due to depart on Good Friday at 6am from the city centre. Iris couldn’t wait!

My wife never liked going away at holiday times. She preferred to go when places weren’t as crowded and the roads were less busy. The kids were growing up and, like most teen-agers, wanted to ‘Do their own thing.’ To expect them to spend a holiday on the beach as they did years ago would have been met with the most scornful derision. I knew that Barbara wanted to go to the Chelsea Flower Show in May as usual, so I said that although I’d be tied up over Easter, I would be free to take her to both the Chelsea show in May and the Southport show in August. This made her day, as she was an avid gardener and took a great interest in all things horticultural. Personally, I’m bored out of my skull looking at floral displays but it was a small price to pay in exchange for being let off the hook over Easter!

A complete waste of time!

2007-04-09T22:13:00.001Z

I have been sent several anonymous posts recently regarding this blog. They range from the utmost stupidity to the downright poisonous lies.
Whoever it is, and I have no doubt in my mind who is responsible, should realise that anonymity will not be recognised and no anonymous posts will be published. It's as simple as that!

Easter 1974

2007-04-08T18:21:00.000Z

Over the next couple of weeks, I shall be recording the events of Easter 1974. It was a wonderful time, especially for Iris as she had her first Continental holiday. Admittedly, it was only a short break over the Easter weekend but she was absolutely ecstatic about it.

The Paris trip will be in four parts describing the journey going, the time spent there and the journey back. I got a great deal of pleasure when writing this account as it brought back so many happy memories. Iris took to Paris like a duck to water; she was in her element there! The next year, we returned to Paris for a longer holiday but these few days at Easter 1974 have always stuck out in my mind as unforgettable.

We enjoyed many holidays over the years. We went all over the place and made many friends. However, even now, 26 years after her death, there are places I could not visit again. It would still be too painful. Berwick, for instance, is a wonderful place for a holiday but I could never return.
The next time I go there will be when I’m in an urn. My daughter will scatter my ashes from the cliff-top to join those of Iris that I scattered there all those years ago.

More domestic reminiscences

2007-04-05T21:55:00.002Z

I’ve been waxing lyrical about Iris not being just a pretty face and her prowess in the kitchen but I could say the same about my wife; she was very attractive and a brilliant cook.
I could never find anyone to beat her where culinary arts were involved apart, perhaps, from my mother who was Cordon Bleu trained. My wife was brought up in a household that thrived on good plain cooking. So much so, that one could tell what day of the week it was by the meals prepared! I’m glad to say that after we were married, with the help of my mother, the ‘Cold meat on Mondays’, ‘Stew and dumplings on Wednesdays,’ and ‘Fish on Fridays’ went by the board!
Barbara was, and still is, an adventurous cook as many of my friends will tell you. We have always eaten well and Barbara has put on meals at very short notice when friends have descended on us after a meeting, etc.

In my childhood, my old granny used to swear by a good breakfast and I never went to school without having either cereal or eggs in one form or another.
Iris wasn’t used to breakfast, as her mother was too idle to prepare it and Iris just didn’t have the time before starting off for work. About six months after we first met, I moved in and lived there four days a week. It was then that Iris started preparing breakfast. There was a little more time in the mornings as I dropped Iris off at work before going on to my office. Sometimes, however, evening meals were a little hurried, especially if I had a club booking that was some distance away. Usually it was a case of a quick snack and a late supper after the show.

I remember one year, I think it was 1973, that there was a sudden sugar shortage. We had gone out for dinner to a Chinese restaurant after a show and Iris, very surreptitiously, went round swiping as many sugar lumps as she could find! Fortunately, sugar supplies were back to normal after a couple of weeks or so.
That was, I think, the same year that out of the blue, there was a temporary petrol shortage. It was around Whitsuntide and it had a devastating effect on motorists. Garages cut their opening times and Green Shield stamps suddenly ceased to exist! The shortage didn’t last all that long but for quite a time afterwards, many filling stations closed earlier and it was hard to find one that opened all night.

More Tommy rot!

2007-04-04T20:18:00.002Z

I have it on record that Tommy (scum-bag) Williams boasted that he had been one of Iris's lovers.
I would ask you to think on this:
Iris died in 1980; Tommy is about 38. He would have been eleven years old the year that she died!
Once again, Tommy Williams is exposed as the liar and and mental cripple that he is!

A mention in passing...

2007-04-03T21:20:00.000Z

Once again, the odious Tommy Williams of Sheffield has seen fit to libel me in his gutter-level blog.
He doesn’t bother about the accuracy of his ravings; he just says what he wants and publishes it. He is of the firm belief in why spoil a good story by telling the truth?
I shall state here and now that the said Williams is a liar, a malcontent and a deliberate trouble-maker. If he wants to come and burn my house down as he threatened to do over the telephone recently, he’s welcome to try. (Incidentally, that call was recorded!)

I don’t know exactly what he’s on at the moment but it must be mind-blowing stuff!

A much-needed refurbishment

2007-04-01T18:52:00.000Z

It’s over three weeks since I wrote about Iris as other current events needed to be posted. However, now it’s back to the original theme of the blog and back to the Seventies.

Last October, I wrote about our revamping the house and how it had taken us almost up to Yuletide to redecorate the bedroom and living room. We had papered and painted the rooms and bought a new bedroom suite and we had moved the old suite into the spare bedroom and also tidied it up a bit. However, three months later, Iris suddenly developed the Spring-cleaning bug. I admit that the place needed to be spruced up a bit as it had been sorely neglected by her mother for many years.

While we had refurnished the living room with a new settee and a couple of easy chairs, we had never modernised the fireplace and it still had the old coal-burning fire that has featured so much in many of my poems. I offered to install a gas fire in its place but Iris said that the local council had told her that she could have it done free under a house improvement scheme. Besides, I think that she liked the old fireplace and wasn’t in a hurry to get rid of it. What she would like, she said, was a colour television.
The present TV was an old black and white Ferguson of indeterminate age. Indeed, it was one her mother used to sit glued to night after night with the result that Iris, who never went out much at that time, had got utterly sick of the thing and very rarely watched it these days. She said that she felt embarrassed when friends dropped in and saw the old set. By this time in the early 70s, most people had changed over to colour so I could see her point. I think that my wife and I bought our first colour TV in 1968 but that was mainly for the kids. I very rarely watched it and even today, I’m still not a ‘Telly addict’!
However, Iris wanted a colour TV so we went out and bought one. Fortunately, I had a friend who was a TV engineer and he recommended a decent set and he also rigged up a new aerial for us. Iris was over the moon with her new TV but it never interfered with our nights out.

I’m recalling this episode to illustrate how little Iris had in the way of modern domestic items. She had a noisy vacuum cleaner that was at least 20 years old and a gas oven that was of the same vintage. While we were about it, we replaced both these things with new models together with a selection of new saucepans, etc. At the same time, I got someone in to replace cupboards, sink and draining-board. I remember that we were given an electric tin-opener by one of the shops and Iris was really chuffed by it. (‘Chuffed’ is an old Yorkshire term meaning highly pleased)
Of course, a new kitchen meant only one thing; we had to invite friends round to dinner! I warned Iris that the new cooker may take a bit of getting used to but she said that a cooker was a cooker and that was it!
I must admit that the resultant meal she prepared for six of us was absolutely first-class! Iris was in her element with her new kitchen. I regarded myself most fortunate in having a girl who was not just a pretty face but was turning out to be an excellent cook and hostess!

The Tag-box

2007-03-30T22:49:00.000Z

Readers will no doubt have noticed that recently, there has been a spate of offensive messages left in the tag-box. They are posted under fictitious names and they consist of malicious lies and spiteful allegations aimed at two people by a mental cripple.
This evening we decided to resolve the problem once and for all and stamp out all anonymous posts. Regular readers can still add comments but will have to register first with a bona-fide name. All posters can now be identified by their ip numbers but genuine posters need not worry. It’s merely a way of controlling the idiots.

(To register, scroll down to 'Profile')

Time3to remember

2007-03-27T14:51:00.000Z

Regular readers will no doubt remember some research I did just over a year ago on behalf of a friend concerning her mother’s death. I managed to unearth old records and autopsy reports and a copy of her death certificate. Her daughter, being only six years old at the time, was shielded by the news on the radio and in the local papers and grew up without any knowledge of how and why her mother died. I undertook to find out all the salient information for her but warned her that the end result may prove to be very traumatic. She told me that she would sooner know the truth, however painful, than remain ignorant of what had happened.

It was a very tragic incident and the more I got involved with it, the more I found myself being affected as the story unfolded. The mother, Mandy, had been suffering from severe depression for a considerable time. She began to think that nobody cared, nobody bothered. As the days went by, she drifted more and more into a state of absolute melancholy with the ultimate result of her taking her own life.
As I unearthed further details of her life, I began to see the problems that she was faced with. Although she had children, she had not enjoyed a happy married life. She had rushed into marriage at the earliest opportunity to escape parental abuse at home.

After her marriage breakdown, Mandy entered into a partnership that resulted in the birth of a daughter whom she dearly loved. That partnership, however, didn’t last. It was a sort of off-on affair with little or no commitment from her partner. He was living in a 2-bedroomed house he had recently bought and was reluctant to take on Mandy and her two children with another one on the way. The father of her daughter abandoned her instead of staying with her through her difficulties. She was now struggling to bring up three children on her own. What social life she tried to enjoy was fraught with broken promises and neglect by those on whom she depended.
It was ten years ago that she decided to end her torment. She walked away from everyone and went alone to a quiet spot where she died from a tranquilliser overdose and hypothermia.
I compiled a dossier containing coroner’s findings, pathological reports and a selection of letters that Mandy had written immediately prior to her death. These letters are among some of the most poignant farewells I have ever read. She had also written a poem in which she expressed her innermost sadness.

I never knew Mandy but I have discovered quite a lot about her and I now know that she deserved much better treatment than that which she had to live with. Far from being the drudge and the hopeless schizophrenic that she was painted by some, I found she was a caring mother and possessed a high level of intelligence. Had she been given a little more love and understanding, her life need not have been unbearable. Admittedly, she was ill but she should never have been driven to the point of suicide. She was only 35 at the time.

Further investigation revealed that someone she was close to at the time, a doctor, betrayed her and diagnosed her as schizophrenic before moving away from the area. It would appear that he was very worried that he may have been accused of professional misconduct. A patient with a serious mental disorder would not be given much credence had there been an investigation!

I think that those who deserted Mandy were fully responsible for her death and were also indirectly responsible for the tragic and traumatic suffering of her daughter at the hands of her abusers in the years to come. Had Mandy lived, her daughter would have grown up in a family full of love and care. There would have been no abuse, no neglect and no suffering.
Her daughter grew up thinking her mother had betrayed her and left her all alone. It was only recently that she found out the truth. Now that she realises how much her mother really did love her, she has come to terms with her death and found for her, a special place in her heart.

Mandy died around March 25^th 1997. Today, I visited her grave today and placed some flowers there; red carnations on behalf of her daughter, Sarah and a single red rose from me as a token of respect for her memory.
I’m not a religious man but I wish that I could offer up some sort of prayer where I could express my deep regret for her having to die at such an early age and to hope that she has found the peace and love she was denied in her life. I’m not much good at this sort of thing but over the next few days, I shall be remembering her as I know those who knew and loved her will also be remembering.

(The cards attached to the flowers reads "Dearest Mum, you are not forgotten. I love you. Sarah"
and "A simple token of my respect, Griff.")

Our Mad Witch!

2007-03-18T23:43:00.000Z

The Mad Witch…
There seems to be a spate of enquiries among readers for a pic of our ‘Mad Witch.’
I shall publish this ‘one-off’ shot to satisfy them.

Ruth says she's a witch but then again, she never could spell!!!

Unwelcome comments

2007-03-13T23:29:00.000Z

It was over a year ago that I started this blog, the purpose of which was to create a lasting memory to my partner who died so very tragically some time ago.
Interspersed with narratives and anecdotes about our life together, have been other postings that I thought would engender some interest to my readers. They range from personal reminiscences to recent events.
I have never sought to use this blog as a weapon to denigrate anyone unfairly with whom I may have disagreed. The only time I have expressed my anger was against a very tiny minority who posted libellous statements against my partner and me. Apart from that, I have always tried to encourage posts both in the comments section and in the tag-box. Fair criticism is always welcomed and counter-criticism is also allowed.
Recently, however, there has been a spate of invective that has, unfortunately, gone beyond the bounds of that which can be accepted. In every case, these messages are posted under an anonymous name and in order to circumvent this state, I shall alter the tag-box so that only those who provide a genuine url or e-mail address will be allowed to post. This, I think, is only fair to everyone.
One person who appears to be getting undue flak is a close friend who moderates my blog when I’m away. The comments are directed at her and have nothing whatsoever to do with the blog. As a moderator, she has the unenviable task of having to delete objectionable posts. She has my total trust in this matter and I’m very grateful for her help.

"I want your baby!"

2007-03-09T20:19:00.000Z

The second year of our relationship was looking good. We were settling down to a steady life-style with very few clouds on the horizon. We shared common interests in going to clubs, travel, visiting and receiving friends, etc. We both loved to entertain our friends at home and Iris was becoming quite an expert in the kitchen.
One evening as we were watching some trivial TV programme, Iris, who was snuggling up beside me, dropped a bombshell… She said, “Graeme, could we start a family?”
I didn’t know what the hell to say to that! I had never dreamed that Iris wanted anything other than a close, loving partnership. She had accepted the fact that I was married and had three children to think about but this was a bolt from the blue!
I asked her if she was sure about it and she gave a wry little grin and said, “Graeme, it’s just that I love you so very much, I want part of you that I can keep forever.”
I felt very humble, knowing that Iris loved me enough to want my child. At the same time, I was practical enough to realise it could only be a dream. Iris was now 35 and I was 39 and already had a son and two daughters. I said that we should think about it very carefully.
If I hadn’t been married, I would have loved to have had children by her. I would have married her as soon as I realised she loved me.
Iris was staring into the fire, watching the flames licking the coals as they burned. She said, “Am I being silly?” I told her that she wasn’t being silly at all and I felt honoured that she should want to bear my child. She replied that she had merely voiced a daydream but in her heart, knew it was a non-starter. I asked her how long she had been thinking of this. She told me it was just something she would have loved but realised it was both impossible and impractical.
Iris said, “I know you love me and that’s enough.” I reached over and hugged her as she lay in my arms on the settee. At the same time, I felt torn apart as this was the very first thing she wanted that I couldn’t give her.
How I wish I’d met her fifteen years earlier! It sounds so selfish, I know, but that was how I felt. I loved her so very, very much!

Cats... I love 'em!

2007-03-04T00:41:00.000Z

I like cats; I love ‘em! All my life I have never been away from a feline pet. I remember a cat we had at home when I was about four or five years old. He was called ‘Ginger’ and we had him for quite a long time.
When we were first married, Barbara and I moved into a house we had bought and we hadn’t been there for more than a couple of weeks when a stray cat wandered in, sat down and miaowed to be fed! Naturally, we took him in and he was the first of a succession of moggies over the years.
I had a friend, Jean, who bred and showed cats. These weren’t the run-of-the-mill flea-bags but pedigree cats worth quite a lot of money. I would take her to cat shows all over the place and she won quite a few prizes.
.Jean’s house was where I had first met Iris who used to baby-sit for her so they knew each other very well. Iris loved cats but her mother had never allowed her to have any pet at all. One day, Jean asked me to take her to the National Cat Show in Leicester at the De Montfort Hall. It was a very important event in the cat world so I agreed. The three of us set off early on the Saturday morning with three show cats. Two were Silver Tabbies and one was a Tortie-point Siamese.
It was a very successful result with Jean winning ‘Best of Class’ for the Silver Tabbies and a Commendation for the Siamese. Armed with the awards, she decided to breed one of the tabbies as she had orders for the kittens even before they were conceived!
The queen had six kittens; all healthy and in perfect condition. Two of them, however, were not up to show quality as they were a little darker than the required standard. As soon as they were old enough, Jean offered them to me. I snatched her hand off. Iris had one and my mother, another moggie fan, had the other. Iris called her kitten ‘Smokie’ and mother named hers, Sophie. They were both spoiled absolutely rotten!
Sadly, Smokie was run over two days before Iris died. I took her home and buried her in the back garden. She was a beautiful creature and I still have a couple of shots of her with Iris. Some of you will remember the photographs published on here last March. You can also see Smokie in the pics that I use as avatars on MSN and Yahoo Messenger. Even today, I still have a cat in the house. I have mentioned her before; she is called Tiffi and is absolutely boofuls!

Smokie with Iris in 1974. 30 years later, Tiffi sitting on my printer

Making plans 1974 style

2007-02-28T15:38:00.000Z

By the beginning of March, Winter 1974 was on the way out and the weather had started to improve. One evening, we decided to make plans for our first holiday of the year and Iris wanted to go somewhere different.
I had taken her to Cornwall and Scotland a couple of times last year. We had been round East Anglia and we had enjoyed several weekends in Derbyshire. I suggested a Yorkshire coastal trip to Scarborough and Whitby. I knew both those places very well and there was plenty to see and do in that area. She asked me if we could have a few days in London at Easter instead. Iris, strangely, enough, had never visited London so we agreed to have a break there.
I remember telling her what she would see; not only the tourist spots but I told her about friends I knew in the East End, which was a very different London altogether. She was raring to go!
We also decided that we would be going to Berwick again later in the year. Cornwall was not part of out plans as the company I kept having to go to last year was now fully productive and needed no further assistance from me. Besides, the kids liked to go to Cornwall and twice a year was enough!
I had a few days owing to me from my holiday entitlement the previous year but I had to get them in pretty soon before the end of March. Iris, unfortunately, wouldn’t have any holidays to come until Easter.
There were a couple of mid-week meetings taking place around this time and I had been asked to speak at them. One was in London and another in Manchester. I spent a couple of days at both locations and I remember feeling a little guilty at enjoying myself while Iris was working. Fortunately, Iris knew of my deep interest in politics and didn’t complain. She jokingly warned me not to pick up any stray blondes while I was on my own.
Funnily enough, there was a rather striking blonde who was a member of the Manchester National Front whom I knew very well. We had been out together a couple of times previously but this time, I made a point of telling her that I was in a steady relationship. We still went out for dinner after the meeting but that was it. Nothing more!
When I returned home, Iris had told me that she was really looking forward to Easter and the proposed London break. We decided to give it a whirl.

The Scotsman's Pack

2007-02-23T23:08:00.000Z

This pub features regularly in the pages of my blog and has been a favourite haunt of mine for a great many years.
I first went there with my grandfather before the war; I would have been about five years old at the time. I remember he had taken me to see the new reservoir being built in the Derwent valley where the inhabitants of a village had been re-settled prior to the flooding. It was the very last day that the village would be accessible. I could see the huge viaduct overhead; it looked massive compared with the winding road where we were walking.
After the closure of the roads, the wooden buildings were burnt down but the rest of the structures, including the church, were left to be covered. Today, the village of Ashopton lies beneath the deep waters of the reservoir.
There is an older reservoir further up the valley and again a village, Howden, was flooded in the construction. It is very distinctive as it has two turrets on the dam wall that are very impressive.
It was here, in 1943 that the RAF rehearsed the raids on the Mohne, Eder and Scorpe dams in the heavily industrialised Ruhr valley. Unfortunately, although the dams were breached, it cost the lives of many of the aircrew who took part in the raid. The reason for the raid wasn’t as some may think to flood the lower Ruhr valley and destroy factories. It was to deprive the canal system in the region of water. Canal transport was the easiest and cheapest way of delivering munitions from the region and a closure of the waterways would have had a serious effect on the distribution of vital supplies.
However, the raid didn’t have any adverse effect on the canal system as they were fed, not only by the Mohne and Eder rivers but from the Weser, Fulda, Ruhr, Lippe and, of course, the Rhine!
Once a year on the anniversary of the raid, a lone Lancaster bomber, The City of Lincoln, flies over the dams. It is a tribute to all those who took part in 1943.

Ashopton village April1939

My grandfather loved Derbyshire and he had visited every town and village in the Peak District. He was a great rambler and he took me with him on many of his walks. I was there when he took the photograph above. It shows the viaduct being built over the valley.
The ‘Pack’ was one of his favourite watering holes and although not a heavy drinker, he liked a couple of pints after a long walk. In later years, I would go out there with friends on motor bikes. I had my first bike when I was 17. It was a Douglas T48 model 350cc twin. I remember that my uncle bought me a pewter tankard when he was over one time that year. It was the custom in those days to leave one’s tankard at a favourite pub. Naturally, I kept mine at the ‘Pack’! I didn’t use it much though, for only two months later, I was reporting to a military camp in Aldershot to commence my army training.
I still managed to get out to the ‘Pack’ whenever I was on leave. I took a succession of girl-friends there, as I had bought a car when I was 20. Unfortunately, girl-friends were few and far between as I wasn’t in the same spot long enough in those days to form any lasting relationships.
At the ripe old age of 23, I got married to my dancing partner and we had three children in four years. This didn’t give us much time for socialising. However, from time to time I managed a night out with the lads and where did we all go? Yup, the ‘Pack’!
It was only natural, I suppose, that I took Iris there shortly after we had met and it became one of our regular haunts. In those days, as I think I have mentioned before, the landlord kept a pet fox and she was allowed to wander round the bar area. She was called Sandy and Iris loved to cuddle her and she would happily sit on her knee for ages! The fox is still to be seen there but these days it is as a stuffed display. Sadly, Sandy was run over by a car outside the pub in 1978. Iris was heartbroken when we heard about it.
I’ve mentioned the famous chair before; the one supposed to have belonged to Little John of Robin Hood legend. Over the years, I have taken several friends there and photographed them sitting in the chair. Some of these friends have featured in this blog and I have produced photographs of them.

The ‘Pack’ remains to this day, my favourite Derbyshire haven and now, I only take very special friends there. However, I shall be returning soon with another beautiful lady and once again the old chair will be graced with a new occupant! It is truly a very delightful place and the cuisine is second to none.

Back in circulation!

2007-02-21T15:44:00.000Z

After spending a week in hospital for an urgent operation, I’m back home.
I have been advised to take things easy for a few days as I was filled up with dope to alleviate post-operation pain. The pain was so intense that even the drugs couldn’t help much.
However, my guardian witch cast healing spells for me and sent wave after wave of relief to me while I was recuperating after surgery. You may think that this is a complete load of bollocks but she certainly devoted quite a lot of time and energy in ensuring that I would recover quickly.
I would like to thank all my friends and readers for their messages and phone calls. They were very much appreciated.
Thank you R… I owe you a night out at least and I’m going to organise one as soon as I get back on my feet again.

Blesséd be and merry moot.

Our first anniversary Feb. 1974

2007-02-12T20:41:00.000Z

St. Valentine’s Day was always regarded as our anniversary.
It was on the eve of this day a year ago that Iris and I first made love. 1973 saw us develop from a shaky relationship to a deep and meaningful partnership.
We celebrated our first year together by going for a meal at our favourite pub. Yes, the Scotsman’s Pack in Hathersage! It was a Wednesday and snowing hard! It was very quiet in the Pack as the weather had kept most people away. Nevertheless, we enjoyed the meal and we lingered there until almost midnight. As I sat and looked at her, I felt so very proud to have such a wonderful girl in love with me!
It took us about an hour to get back home as the roads were icy and no gritters had been out where we were. Once back home, we hit the hay and spent a very special night together. I had written a poem for the occasion earlier that day and I gave it to her as she lay beside me.

To my love on our first anniversary

I found you in the winter of the year
And waited longingly for you to show you cared,
And aching arms cried out to hold you near.
All through those winter days, my heart so dared
My love to grow.

And as spring came, I knew I loved you more,
I saw your feelings for me start to flower,
And knowing not such love like this before,
Dreamt wondrous thoughts and hoping every hour
Your love to grow.

And as the golden days passed one by one,
Gazing at you, I saw that love was there.
I knew that winter’s doubts and fears were gone.
As I caressed you softly in the summer air,
Your love did grow.

The leaves turn autumn brown and fall away,
But you and I, my love, are still together,
And through the night as in my arms you lay,
I know the happiness we have will last forever.
And our love will grow.

Full circle now, the year has turned around.
This New Year sees us share a love so tender.
With each and every winter will be found
The memories of that first embrace; I shall remember
As our love still grows.

Out of action...

2007-02-11T01:22:00.000Z

I shall not be around next week as I have to go into hospital on Tuesday for a minor surgical op.
I shouldn’t be away for more than a few days but during that time, I will not be able to be contacted.
Friends and regular readers know my personal land line home number and any messages for me can be relayed by my family. My mobile will not be on during my stay in dock. I shall, however, have a bedside telephone but until I get one, I won’t know the number.
I shall be in the best of care; I shall have plenty of books and newspapers. I will have access to my own television and radio transmission and I am reliably informed that the grub isn’t bad! I hope to be home within a few days although I won’t be chasing around for a bit.
All donations; grapes, chocs, cans of coke and cheques from wealthy admirers gratefully received. Don’t bother with flowers and ffs no bloody wreaths!

ps… Before I go, I shall publish our anniversary blog.
pps. I know I shall not be alone in there! Thank you R… Blesséd be!

Is it a year?

2007-02-07T23:34:00.000Z

In early February 1974, I was having dinner with Iris and suddenly she looked at me and gave me a sort of dreamy smile. I asked what she was thinking and she said she was remembering all the things we had done together last year. We talked about our stumbling steps to build up a relationship and how it had changed from a chance encounter to a committed partnership. We had both changed over the last twelve months. We had become part of each other and we were as near to being man and wife as we possibly could be.
We had done quite a lot last year as events in my blog has shown. Iris had been to places she never thought she would see and I had taken a great delight in taking her there. We had been to Cornwall, East Anglia and Scotland for holidays and I had taken her all over Derbyshire for several weekends. I had introduced her to friends both personal and those from work. She had a wardrobe full of dresses and clothes she would have never dreamed of wearing at one time. I remember her reaching out her hand across the table to take mine. She said, “It will soon be St. Valentine’s Day; do you remember?”
I asked her “How could I possibly forget?” That was the time we had first made love; it was in front of the open fire. I told her that we would make St. Valentine’s Day our official anniversary, which we did every year from then on. Even now, 26 years after her death, I still remember it.

A promise made; a promise kept #1

2007-02-03T00:09:00.000Z

A promise made…
About three months ago, a young friend of mine left home for a new life in the US. I was worried about what she would find there away from her usual habitat. Fortunately, she is now living with a caring family who look upon her as their daughter.
She said that she had to get away from home and three days after her 16th birthday, she travelled half-way round the world on her own to start afresh. She left secretly early one morning, took a train to the airport and then on to New York where she had to get another flight to her destination. She did this unaided by her family and personally, I thought it was a fine example of initiative.
Before she went, I promised her that I would always be there if she needed anything and we are regularly in touch via the Internet and ‘phone. She left this country with one suitcase and £85 in her pocket; no mean achievement for such a young girl!
I do not wish to go into the ‘why’s and wherefores’ of her leaving home. Suffice it to say that she is far happier where she is now than at any previous time in her life.
There is, however, a down side at the moment. There are those who would not wish to see her succeed in trying to forge a new life and they are a constant thorn in her side. This young girl was the victim of abuse from a very early age and her only hope of release was to move away from the past. It hasn’t taken her long to become part of her new community and she is being warmly accepted by them.
All she wants to do now is to get on with her life in a stable and loving environment. All I want is for her to be happy and safe and I am determined to do anything it takes to see that she has every chance of rebuilding her shattered life!

Cold days remembered #2

2007-01-30T13:06:00.000Z

There have been a great many cold days in my life and none of them pleasant!
It’s usually the case that anyone complaining about being too hot in the middle of summer gets a sympathetic understanding, but say that you are too cold, even when it’s freezing the tits off a witch, and you are automatically labelled with the old Yorkshire word, NESH! You are told that cold weather is healthy and good for you. Even my old granny didn’t have much time for being cold. She would say, “Run about a bit; you’ll soon be warm!”
I remember once, not so long ago that I spent one of the most miserable nights of my life. It was early March and I was going from Newark to York on my boat, Dixie via the rivers Trent and Ouse. It was a weekday and I didn’t have my usual crew to help me. They were going to meet me later but it wasn’t a difficult navigation as there were very few locks which were, at the time, fully manned.
I set off from Newark around 2pm and stayed overnight at Torksey, on the River Trent. There was a decent pub there; I knew it well and I spent an enjoyable evening with friends I had met.
The next morning was an idle time as I had to wait for the flood tide before leaving. There would be plenty of time to get to Trent Falls where the river joins the Ouse to form the Humber Estuary. There were safe anchorages there and I would spend the night snug in my bunk. I went to the local shop and stocked up with fresh milk and some tea-bags. I set off down the river as soon as the flood-tide arrived.
It was fine until I was about ten miles from Trent Falls when a strong wind got up. The temperature dropped to almost zero and I was making slow progress through the heavy swell. The river was ebbing sluggishly and the level was dropping.
As I lost quite a bit of time, I realised that the ebb was just about at the lowest and the river at this point, has huge shoals and sandbanks to negotiate. I decided to find a small channel out of the way of large ocean-going coasters and drop anchor for the night. It was no big deal; I’d done it several times before. I had food, a couple of books, a bottle of scotch and plenty of tea and coffee.
The darkness came and the boat was getting decidedly cold now. I had a small space heater that would warm the cabin up a bit so I switched it on and was glad of the warmth it gave out. Unfortunately, a few minutes later, it packed up and would not start again. I was stuck on a boat in the most inhospitable stretch of the river and it was now pitch-black. I lit the gas on the stove to get some warmth and made myself a hot drink; then more problems!
Like a bloody idiot, I had forgotten to get a new propane gas cylinder before I set off and the flame on the stove was getting lower and lower. The gas geyser went out; ergo no more hot drinks!
I couldn’t leave the cabin lights on as I didn’t want to run the batteries down. I had to leave some navigation lights on, naturally, as maritime law required. As the night wore on, I became colder and colder. The idea of undressing for bed was out of the question; I sat and shivered using the minimum of light just to read with.
Eventually, I must have dozed off because I was suddenly aware of a violent rocking motion. I opened the curtains and saw the loom of a coaster chugging up-river on the first of the flood. The tide had turned and it was 6am! It was not yet dawn but I now had enough water under my keel to move out.
I soon had the engines running and up-anchored. I got into the main channel of the river and was pushing the tide up to Trent Falls. Once round the headland I was in the Ouse and with the flood heading for Goole. I passed through Victoria Lock into Goole Docks and moored up. There was a sort of transport café adjacent to the docks that was used by truckers and ships’ crews. I went in and was greeted by a blast of warm air; I was still so very cold after the early morning run up the Ouse with no heating on board. I sat down to a goodly cholesterol-laden breakfast of bacon, egg, black pudding, tomatoes and fried bread together with a pint mug of steaming hot tea.
I felt decidedly better for it!

Cold days remembered #1

2007-01-28T16:10:00.000Z

I remember one January when Iris and I were returning from a club venue in Rotherham that the windscreen shattered. It was around midnight, freezing cold and we were about twenty miles away from home! There was nothing for it but to knock out the shattered glass in order that I could see to drive. I had the heater on full blast but it was fighting a losing battle with the inclement weather conditions. Halfway back home, it started to snow; that was all we needed! I had to keep stopping to clean my specs and Iris was turning into a snowman before my very eyes. She was wearing a fur coat and the snow was plastering itself on it. Eventually we reached home and we tumbled out of the car into the house.
I have explained before that the house was an old one with a coal fire in the living room. Fortunately, there were a few embers still glowing and a shovelful of coal soon had it burning up again. I don’t care what anybody says; even the sight of a cheerful blazing fire makes you feel a damned sight warmer than any amount of central heating!
Iris did what all women do in these circumstances; she put the kettle on and made a cup of tea. God! I think that it was the warmest, tastiest, most welcome cuppa I ever had in my life! Iris was quick to dash upstairs and switch on the electric blanket. We were both soaked to the skin and we huddled round the fire in dressing gowns to get warm again. Wet clothing was draped on a clothes-horse and the steam was soon rising from them. I wonder how many people use those things these days?
Although we were soon snug in bed for the night, the next morning found me clearing snow from my car seats and taking it to have a new windscreen fitted. I drove to work later that day sitting on a plastic cover and immediately left the car in a corner of a workshop to be dried out using an industrial heater/blower.
Funnily enough, in all the years I have been driving, I have only had a windscreen shatter three times. Once as I have just described, once when some lefty yobbo threw a brick through it and once after a road had been recently repaired.

Cold days coming

2007-01-27T14:11:00.000Z

Last November, I commented that there were two periods in the year that were, to me, most depressing. One of them is the run-up towards Yuletide and the other is just after the New Year.
Yule is now a distant memory and the sluggish progress towards Spring has just started. All we have to look forward to right now is snow, gales, frost, icy roads and a continuation of bloody cold weather!
I hate the cold weather more than anything else. I find it so very disagreeable to perform the simplest of tasks in the cold outdoors. Checking tyres on a windswept garage forecourt, going from store to store on a shopping expedition and coming out of the shower into a freezing-cold bathroom!
Another thing that bugs me is my having to wait for what seems like an interminable length of time before the car heater kicks in to dispel the mist on the windscreen and the shivers down my back!
I once saw a man in freezing weather washing his car down outside his house. Personally, I would firmly recommend that people like him should be certified!

Bastards!

2007-01-25T21:03:00.000Z

The other morning, I woke up to find that my car had been broken into. The passenger side window had been smashed and my radio/CD player removed.
On contacting the local police, I was told that there had been a number of thefts of radios of my model as they contained a chip that could be used to obtain free television programmes. They gave me a crime incident number for me to pass on to my insurance company. As far as they were concerned, that was the end of the matter!
The window was replaced within 24 hours and it was pointed out to me that the window surround had been severely damaged by a bar or large screwdriver. After fitting a new window, it was found that the electric mechanism was jammed! I also discovered that two pairs of specs had been taken from the glove compartment and deliberately smashed. This act of sheer vandalism is costing my insurers quite a lot. Not only does it concern the replacement of a radio and window but the bodywork repairs are also necessary. It also means that I may be without transport for a couple of days. Although my insurers were very helpful and reimbursed me for the cost of the specs and authorised a garage to replace the damaged parts, it was still a bloody inconvenience!
The new radio/CD player is brilliant. It can do everything but talk back to me. However, I’ll have to browse through an inch-thick manual even to understand half the functions. A better idea would to let my ten-year old grandson loose with it. He would sort it in two minutes flat!

My poetry

2007-01-21T15:48:00.000Z

Regular readers of this blog will know that I have written a great many poems to Iris. I am still writing them even though I know that she will never read them. It’s a way of coming to terms with my loss. Every time I write a verse, she seems so very close to me.
It is said that true poetry is the mirror of the soul. It reflects one’s dreams; one’s wishes. It releases thoughts that would otherwise be hidden. It comforts and it sooths the mind.
Rarely, and I mean very rarely, I write poetry about someone else. This has happened only a couple of times since Iris died. On both these occasions, I was writing about someone I knew and liked. There was no affair; it was just a happy friendship. Recently, I have been given great comfort by someone who has become a very close friend. I mentioned her in a previous posting.
I dedicate this poem to her:

To The Fair Witch Of Wicca

She is the mistress of your mind
And takes you through forgotten years.
She weaves her spell and you will find
A refuge from your hidden fears.

She stares into the crystal ball
And sees into the shadows there.
Her prophecies are there for all
And spurn her warnings if you dare!

Who is she then, this wondrous one
Who probes into your secret ways?
A welcome witch, or charlatan
Who conjures up your yesterdays?

She is no hag nor devil’s bane,
A whiter witch one could not see
But she controls all things arcane,
This fairest beauty; Blesséd be!

Something has happened!

2007-01-18T13:45:00.000Z

About three months ago, I was introduced to a very attractive lady who claimed to be a witch. Yes, a real live witch; although she is a white witch and a follower of the Wiccan faith. In order to preserve her privacy, I shall refer to her as ‘R’.
She began to explain to me the basics of Wicca and, after she gave me a Tarot reading, said that I was deeply troubled but would find an inner peace.
I had never been one for any religion before but she discovered my lasting grief over Iris and said that there was no need to mourn her as she was with me already and always had been.
This I found so very hard to swallow but she said she would prove it to me. She gave me a piece of quartz crystal a candle and a plaited ribbon. It was a spell.
‘R’ has been practising witchcraft since her early teens. She explained to me that the weaving of the silken ribbons was an age-old ritual, hence ‘weaving a spell’!
She told me to place the crystal and the ribbons beside the photograph of Iris and light the candle for one hour each day at the same time for seven days. She gave me further instructions what to do and these, I followed to the letter. She told me that ‘Things would start to happen.’ I didn’t know exactly what was going to happen, if anything, but I gave it a whirl.
Astonishingly, things HAVE started to happen. I am beginning to shake off my morbid obsession of grief and I now feel a warmth I have never felt in a very long time. Iris is still in my thoughts but I don’t feel as sad as I did before when thinking about her. This was most noticeable on her birthday a couple of days ago. Normally, I would sit and brood over her death and live through the agony of losing her. This time, I was remembering not just the sadness but the good times and the pleasures we had shared.

At Yuletide, ‘R’ gave me a silver pentagram pendant that I have worn ever since she gave it to me. It’s very strange but it has become part of me. I don’t yet fully understand the Wiccan cult but I intend to learn a lot more about it. This is so very unlike me indeed; I have always eschewed any religious doctrine as anyone who knows me will confirm. However, Wicca predates many religions and has its roots in both Norse and Greek history. ‘R’ is one of the very few people I know who shows understanding as to how I feel about Iris. She has taught me that my grief is unnecessary as she is very close to me even now. I am, indeed, very grateful for her help and understanding.
Blesséd be!

Birthday!

2007-01-15T13:36:00.001Z

IRIS January 15th

Remembering you on your birthday. You are still forever young!

Just a quickie...

2007-01-12T23:42:00.000Z

Have you ever?
Recently, in the Daily Telegraph, readers have been writing in suggesting all sorts of exclusive societies. Examples are: “The Society For People Who Have Never Seen The Sound Of Music” or, “The Society For People Who Have Never Been To A Football Match” etc.
I have been reading several of these letters and I think I can qualify for membership of quite a few of these bizarre clubs.
I have never seen The Sound Of Music, The Jolson Story. Doctor Jivago, Gone With the Wind, Star Wars or Titanic!
As for television, I have never watched Eastenders, Big Brother, I’m A Celebrity, Home and Away, Neighbours, Crossroads, Only Fools And Horses or Top Of The Pops!

I have never owned a record, CD or DVD of any pop music nor have I ever been to a disco or a pop rave. I have never worn jeans, a CND badge, dyed my hair or had a tattoo.
How many of you out there would care to join my club?

2006... Thank God it's gone!

2007-01-10T15:57:00.000Z

2006 was not the happiest year in my life. Several things occurred that really loused it up for me.
I was attacked and vilified in print and on the Internet for no other reason than jealousy and I had to resort to legal action to stop it.
I lost a very old friend through cancer. I had known him and his family for over 40 years. I miss him a lot. I lost another friend, much younger this time, due to her leaving the country for a new life abroad. Fortunately, in this case, we still keep in touch regularly and I’m pleased to know she is very happy and settled in her new environment.
I had a few family problems to deal with that were serious and which caused quite a lot of worry. Eventually, though, things worked out ok.
2006 did have its up-side, however. I shook off someone who had been a constant source of irritation to me for some time. I patched up a few differences with a friend with whom I was having a sort of love-hate association. I’m pleased about that because she has always been a little bit special to me. She too, is now much happier than she has been before.
Towards the end of the year, I was very upset to find that someone I trusted and respected appeared to have feet of clay. This is a very private matter and I shall not dwell on it.
Right now, I’m looking forward to a much different picture. I have discovered a new way of life that I intend to explore to the full and already, I am beginning to feel the effects of this.
I am trying to reconcile myself to someone with whom I had a recent disagreement and I hope that I can succeed in this venture. If the lady is as forgiving as she is beautiful, I should be halfway there!
For 2007, it’s a case of continuing the story of Iris. There is quite a fund of articles in the pipeline that I hope will interest and amuse you. At the moment, I’m working on a three-part article about a trip to Paris we enjoyed in the Spring of 1974.
Please keep your comments rolling in. I hope to be able to replace the tag-box in the near future if a certain young lady will be kind enough to sort it for me! (HINT!)

Looking back...

2007-01-07T20:03:00.000Z

Thumbing through my 1973 diary, I found that thirty-odd years later, one or two things had eluded my memory.
Why did I go to Doncaster on March 17^th at 10am?
What was the attraction of visiting an Avon cosmetics display in June?
Who or what was Popcorn? (August 15^th) Possibly a group that was appearing at one of my club bookings, I dunno!
And who the hell was Ingrid? I found her name in the back of the diary on the phone nos page.
I rely heavily on old diaries to record events in my blog. Although I can recall the salient points of our life together, I find it very helpful to be able to add specific times and details to these events. I have kept a diary for most of my life and I still have many of them going back to the mid Fifties.
Most of the entries I can remember; especially the traumatic early days of 1973 when I realised I was in love with Iris and couldn’t do anything about it. Fortunately, that state of events didn’t last long.(Read my early blogs for January 2006.)

1974, however, was entirely different. By now, we were living as man and wife half the time; a far cry from the uncertainty of a year ago.
January 1974 saw happier times than January 1973 and February marked our first anniversary.
April 1974 saw us in Paris for the Easter weekend. I shall be writing about that in due course.
May 1974 was when my mother discovered our secret. (See blog May 2006.)
July 1974 saw us ‘married’ at Gretna. (See blog July 2006)

It was a year since we had first started our relationship and from that shaky beginning, grew a bond that lasted until her death. We thought that nothing could ever spoil our love for each other and indeed, nothing ever did.

Happy New Year 1974!

2007-01-04T23:06:00.000Z

For the past few years, I’d had a standing engagement on New Year’s Eve to compère a cabaret at a private club in Chesterfield. It was a regular booking so it was not difficult for me to be away from home. I usually went on my own but this year, I would be taking Iris. The audience comprised mainly of professional people; doctors and lawyers mostly, and it was usually a very enjoyable affair.
The highlight of the New Year’s evening was the parading of the haggis! The haggis was brought in accompanied by a Scottish piper in full regimental dress and served immediately after midnight.
Iris loved the show and she looked so very dazzling in her new evening dress that I had bought her for the occasion. I think that every male eye was on her that night!
The party finished around 2am and we went home in a cab provided for us. We got back about half an hour or so later and although we were very tired, we toasted each other with a nightcap before going to bed. Thus ended our first wonderful year together.

Happy New Year #2!

2007-01-02T19:57:00.000Z

It was New Year’s Eve a year ago that I first started this blog. At first, I wasn’t sure I would continue it but, encouraged by a friend, I kept it going and I have never regretted it. The blog has become a refuge where I can lose myself in either sadness or happiness. I can shed a tear over the bad times and remember the good times. Some of the bad times were very bad but the good times far outweighed them once the dark early days of January 1973 had gone.
For the future, who knows? I shall continue with the blog and hope to entertain readers with our story. I suppose that the narrative of Iris and me is, to some, just another love story; something that can be found in the pages of a Mills & Boon novel. To us, however, it was our life, our dream!
This New Year, I shall be thinking of her and almost wishing I were religious. If I were, I could look forward to a wonderful reunion and another life together.
As it is, there is nothing left. Her ashes that I scattered on the Berwick sands are long gone. They have been pounded by incoming tides twice a day for over 26 years! Only her memory remains; only the heartache still lingers.

A Happy New Year!!!

2007-01-01T01:30:00.000Z

Tonight, on New Year's Eve, we held a New Year Party at our home. It was a very informal affair including family and friends. Two very special close friends, newly engaged, were first to arrive.Our daughter, Fran and granddaughter Emma followed, with our son, Sheldon, appearing a little later.
It was an extremely convivial get-together;; the wine was flowing and the buffet was thoroughly enjoyed by everyone.
Shortly before midnight, our glasses were charged and on the first stroke of the New Year, we toasted each other.
Our glasses were also raised to ‘Absent friends’ John Tyndall, whose portrait gazed down on us and to Iris, of course, whose photograph was in its usual place on my desk.
For quite a few of us there this evening, 2006 wasn’t the best year we ever had and we look forward to a better year in 2007.

Anyway, to all of you who read my blog, I would wish you a happy and prosperous New Year!

My birthday!

2006-12-29T20:26:00.000Z

The Yuletide holidays fell midweek in 1973 with Christmas Day being on the Tuesday.
Thursday the 27^th was my birthday and the kids were still in a festive mood. They wanted a treat so Barbara and I took them to a matinee at the cinema. Looking back in my diary, I found it was “Where eagles dare.” It was a very good film and we all enjoyed it.
That evening, I had a booking at a club about 15 miles away. I said that there would most likely be a party afterwards so I’d kip down at a friend’s place who lived nearby.
I picked Iris up around 7pm and we went to the venue. It was a lively night and we got back home around midnight. This was the first time we had managed to have to ourselves since Christmas Day. Two whole days had elapsed since then! It was my birthday and Iris made sure it was a very happy one!!!
Iris had, as I’ve already mentioned, made plans for a party for me and had invited our friends round on the Saturday evening.
Once again, she had come up trumps. Although she had never put on a large party before, she had provided sandwiches, sausage rolls, vol-au-vents, pork pie, mince pies and other delicacies for a cold buffet. We had got a goodly stock of drinks in ready for the evening. There were around a dozen or more who turned up and the party went on until the early hours!

Iris was marvellous over the holidays. She had known she would have to share me with my family but she understood and I loved her for it! Some readers may think it strange that I should want to leave my family at Christmas time but although we were a happy family, they were used to my sudden departures, as my work and my club venues often dictated that I had to be away. Nobody thought it was unusual for me to be absent quite a lot of the time. The next step would be how to get round similar problems for the New Year!

Two Christmas dinners!

2006-12-26T13:30:00.000Z

Iris knew, of course, of my commitments to my family on Christmas Day. She knew we had a traditional dinner in the evening so she put on a meal at lunchtime. It was absolutely superb. I told my family that I had a lunchtime invitation with friends from work. This would guarantee my being away until mid-afternoon. The kids had opened their presents underneath the Christmas tree after breakfast as usual and around 11am, I left to join Iris at her home.

We really enjoyed our roast turkey; Iris had never cooked one before but it turned out fine! She had even steamed a Christmas pud as well!
After lunch we unwrapped our presents. She had bought me a new dressing-gown, some after-shave and an electric razor. I had bought her a gold necklace, a pure silk blouse, a box of liqueur chocolates and some of her favourite perfume. (Ma Griffe by Carven.)
The afternoon passed so very quickly and I had to take my leave. I dropped Iris off at her sister’s where she would be spending the rest of the day and evening. It was a tearful parting but at least we had celebrated Christmas together as best as we could.
That evening saw me sitting down to another Christmas dinner; this time at home. Much as it was a very enjoyable meal surrounded by my family, I couldn’t help thinking of Iris and I knew she would be thinking of me!

By tradition, Boxing Day, at home, was ‘Open house’ when everyone was welcome. Old friends would come round in the evening for drinks and a buffet. I had invited Andrea and Iris. Andrea had been to us before on past Boxing Days and was no stranger there. Iris had met my wife a couple of times when I had been ill a few weeks previously. My wife and Andrea were old friends and Barbara took to Iris straight away. Iris was a little embarrassed about this but she didn’t show it.
Barbara put Andrea under the mistletoe and got me to kiss her. She did the same with Iris as she thought it would help her to mix in. I kissed Iris very perfunctorily under the mistletoe. I was aching to take her in my arms then and there but it was impossible. It was a party night with friends and relatives and, as hosts, Barbara and I had to mix with everyone. There were drinks galore so there was no way I could drive Iris home afterwards.
She and Andrea had arrived by taxi and went home the same way. By this time, I was suffering from Iris withdrawal symptoms and, for the first time in my life, was looking forward to the end of the festive holidays.

Merry Christmas!

2006-12-23T12:55:00.000Z

I just want to wish all my readers a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
Thanks to all of you who left comments; they are always appreciated.

Our very first Christmas

2006-12-22T19:56:00.000Z

Yuletide at home was always a very big affair. Ever since I was a small child, it was a time for family reunions and parties.
My cousin and I grew up together; we were more like brother and sister. We lived next door but one to each other and although we went to different schools we were always very close. It was a great time for us at Christmas. Aunts and uncles would descend on us and we were one big happy family.
There was always a huge turkey on Christmas Day and a roast loin of pork for Boxing Day. With my birthday falling on the 27^th, we always had an extra day to celebrate! As kids, my cousin and I would invite our friends to my birthday party and, living in a large house, we could indulge in party games like ‘Murder’ and ‘Sardines’ etc.

Although we weren’t a snobbish family, it was traditional for us to dress for dinner on special occasions; Christmas and New Year being two examples. I remember at the age of 14, being measured for my first dinner suit. It wasn’t so much of a rarity in those days as it would have been now. A dinner suit also came in handy when my cousin and I entered ballroom dancing competitions. In actual fact, we were pretty good as under-sixteen competitors.

Christmas 1973 was, I remember, a cold but dry one. Iris, being on her own, had decided to surprise me by cooking a Christmas dinner with all the trimmings! She so very much wanted this Christmas to be special. In years past, she usually spent it with her stupid sister and her stodge of a husband whose only idea of festivities was to pull a cracker, wear a silly hat and sleep his lunch off listening to the Queen’s speech!
Iris was determined to make this Christmas a different one and she told me she was going to enjoy it in her own home with me beside her. She said she was going to invite our friends over on my birthday and throw a party for me. Dearest Iris; she’d never done this before and she was so enthusiastic about it. I could see the pleasure she was getting from thinking about the holidays and I didn’t want to dampen her zeal. I could see that some period over Christmas, I would have to choose between spending it with her or with my family as usual. I wondered just how I was going to manage being in two places at the same time!
More later.

Christmas shopping

2006-12-20T22:27:00.000Z

The other day, I did something I never thought I would ever do. That is, to take someone shopping in a super-complex at Christmas rush season.
I must have been bloody stupid even to think about it but she is a good friend and needed transport to get to and from the place. I made a token protest at the crass inanity of venturing into a hell-hole of a shopping mall at this time of year but the words fell on deaf ears. Never try arguing with a female shopaholic!
The first problem was to find a parking space. Not easy in a crowded car-park with everyone trying to get in at the same time! Eventually I got a slot and off we went into the mall.
Women are strange creatures where shopping is concerned. A man will see what he wants, get it and that’s it. A woman will see what she thinks she wants and then scours the place looking for similar alternatives. At the end of the search, she’ll decide to go for the first choice!
The one redeeming feature about this is that we did find a place to have a decent lunch and afterwards, when I took her back home, I was rewarded with a cup of tea. I did, however, say that I'd already done my shopping a few days before thus avoiding a last-minute chase through a packed supermart. I suggested she should have done likewise. The advice wasn't altogether appreciated.
I wonder though, if she was trying to tell me something?

Dinner party #2

2006-12-18T21:41:00.000Z

The guests came around 6.30pm and we settled down to a few pre-prandial drinks. Sherry for the ladies and malt for the men. Our guests were a couple of friends; one of whom was no stranger to us. He had recently met a young lady and it had been a case of ‘instant attraction’! His very charming companion hadn’t been before and had been wondering what she was letting herself in for! Although I had only known the lady for a few weeks, we had become good friends. My wife, however, had never met her but she was soon invited into the kitchen where Barbara explained the finer points of haute cuisine to her and they took to each other straight away.
Dinner was served at 7.30pm and although there were only four of us, we all enjoyed it. After the meal, we were back in the drawing room where we spent the rest of the evening with drinks and lively conversation.
Parties are not necessarily an excuse for the playing of head-banging music nor are they a licence to get as ratted as possible. This little soirée was a quiet but very pleasant affair. I took quite a few photographs of the occasion but ‘R’ asked me not to post them in my blog just yet, as she was rather shy and the said she wasn’t photogenic.How very wrong she was! Both her companion and I told her how attractive she looked and she received the compliment gracefully. It’s a pity I’m not able to show the photographs as ‘R’ is a very beautiful woman. My old mate is a bloody lucky man and there are all indications that their relationship will blossom into something more permanent.
It was a very convivial evening all round and we are looking forward to the next time we meet.

Dinner party #1

2006-12-16T20:33:00.000Z

One of the many pleasures in life is to throw a dinner party. My wife is exceptionally good at this sort of thing and she always rises to the occasion in the way of a very delectable menu. It is planned with all the care of a military manoeuvre!
Normally it is a straightforward affair, only requiring a trip to the local butchers and delicatessen to pick up the makings of the meal. At this time of year, however, even going to the supermarket is a major operation with queues to checkouts miles long!
The preparation starts the day before with the marinade and sauce-mixing. Then there is the job of ensuring we have the appropriate wine for the dishes we are putting on. However much we try to make sure everything is ready, there is always the last-minute rush to get something we have forgotten. This time, it was cocktail sticks!
A few hours before the dinner, things get moving! Table adornment is high on her list, whether it be candles or flowers. Glasses have to be selected and cutlery is meticulously laid out.
An interesting observation here is that cutlery only refers to knives; the forks and spoons are known as flatware and hollow ware.
Red wine is allowed to ‘breathe’ at room temperature while white wine is usually served cooler. Champagne is chilled and placed in an ice-bucket before being opened. The dinner is a leisurely affair and usually takes around an hour from start to finish, after which, we repair to the drawing room for coffee. Barbara ensures that the coffee beans are freshly ground in order to extract the full flavour. There is always a goodly selection of drinks available both before, during and after the meal.
Bon appetite!

A slight problem solved

2006-12-13T23:09:00.000Z

I have rambled on at length recently about Yule presents and the various recipients of them.I have just about got most of the gifts I’m dishing out this year but there was a slight problem. That is, what to get for my wife!
Over the years, Barbara has amassed a large collection of silver and crystal. There are several cabinets full of the stuff and additions of this nature are no longer a surprise. There is very little room left for more books as my bookshelves are overflowing at the moment. There isn’t much space left on the walls for more paintings so we were faced with a problem as to what to buy for each other. A bottle of good malt whisky, while very enjoyable, isn’t a lasting gift, as indeed neither are perfume, chocolates nor liqueurs.
We were thinking about this the other evening and we decided to buy something we could both enjoy. We don’t need a new TV or a DVD player etc. so what is there? We toyed with the idea of a winter holiday (wouldn’t last) or a new settee. (No, Sid might call round!)
We eventually decided on a Sat-Nav. This, we thought would be ideal. Instead of Barbara following a road map and getting us hopelessly lost in the foothills of Scotland or the junctions on the M25, we could rely on a Sat-Nav to louse it up instead! The more we thought about it, the more attractive the idea became. I reckon we’ll get one.
I dread to think what the overall cost of Yuletide will be. I’m afraid I tend to go over the top at this time of the year and my bank balance will take a bit of a thump! Not to worry; it’s just about sorted apart from the turkey and the booze. (ouch!)

Christmas party Dec. 1973

2006-12-10T11:59:00.000Z

Every year, my firm would throw a big Christmas party for the staff and workforce. It was held at a large hotel and around 80-100 would be invited.
The Company Chairman would make a speech, sit down and then make himself scarce for the rest of the evening. The party consisted of a formal dinner and dance. Everything was free including the drinks for the first hour until the dancing started.
Andrea, my secretary, was very prominent in organising the event with one or two other senior female staff. Together, they always made it a very enjoyable occasion and this year was no exception.
Naturally, I took Iris and by this time, she was getting to be well-known among my work colleagues. She looked heavenly that night and I was so very proud of her. What a difference she looked compared with last Christmas. What a transformation had taken place! Gone were the skirt and top, gone was the mousy look, gone was the shy demure girl. In her place was the sophisticated Iris; self-assured and everything a man could ever dream of. As I danced with her, I remembered the very first dance I had taken her to. That was way back to January when she was unsure of how she felt. (See blog Jan 7th & 8th 2006) Tonight, everyone recognised us as a couple and we couldn’t have been happier.
Later that night, as we returned home, I remember Iris saying that she was really looking forward to our first Christmas together. I resolved then that I would try to make it a memorable one for both of us in spite of my having family commitments. I was determined to make sure that it would be the happiest Christmas she ever had!
Iris was the very best thing that had ever happened to me. I never regretted one single minute in all the eight short years we were together.

I survived!!!

2006-12-06T22:17:00.000Z

After the Yuletide shopping trip in town the other day, I was very lucky to come out unscathed.
I survived prams and push-chairs being erratically steered by doting mothers. I avoided umbrellas wielded by aged grannies and I evaded Big Isssue sellers who were bawling in my ears.
On the good side, I managed to get a parking space by sliding into a slot that was being vacated as I got there and we found a table in a department store café when we repaired for a coffee break.
The visit to a jeweller’s was comparatively painless. Fran, my daughter, spotted something she wanted almost straight away. I poked around the place and got a couple of other items and from there, we went for a coffee.
I’ve just about finished shopping for Christmas; I’ve only a few more things to get and I can forget about it for another year!
I’m off to Retford next Saturday to the Farmers’ Market. One can get very good quality beef and pork at a reasonable price so I’ll be stocking up for the holidays.

Bloody traffic!

2006-12-04T13:24:00.000Z

Why is it that as soon as the Yuletide holidays approach, there seems to be twice as many cars on the road as usual? The streets leading into and out of town are virtually gridlocked. I’m used to the rush hour traffic from 4pm to 6pm but right now, it’s a hell of a job moving even at mid-day. Incidentally, whoever conjured up the name, rush hour, when nothing moves, needs his bumps feeling!
Where, I wonder, does all the extra traffic come from? People are still working in the Christmas run-up so obviously it’s a case of housewives with acute shopaholic tendencies!
As for parking, forget it! A parking-space in an urban thoroughfare is as rare as rocking-horse s**t! Traffic wardens are constantly on the prowl and the City Council urges everyone to use public transport. That’s a laugh!
Whenever does a bus take you from where you live to where you want to go without either a wide detour or an infrequent service? Most shops in the city are in pedestrian zones so unless you want to traipse from one end of the shopping centre to the other, you’re licked before you start!
Never mind, once Christmas is over, you can look forward to another snarl-up when the January sales start!

Getting nearer to Yuletide

2006-12-01T20:18:00.000Z

I was sitting at home musing over the Telegraph crossword when my daughter paid us a flying visit.
She’d been into town shopping for last-minute presents and was full of the joys of Christmas.
Last-minute presents? I haven’t even begun to think about it yet! I usually do my shopping on Christmas Eve like most other men!
The conversation turned to me and she asked me what I would like for my birthday. She explained that she’d already got me a Chrissie present. (My birthday is December 27th… Hint, hint!)
I really didn’t know what I wanted; I suggested a Sat-nav, a new laptop, a 19” monitor, a case of Bollinger champers and a couple of other things. Frances held up a hand and said “Pick a finger!”
Seriously, I didn’t know what I wanted, so being Fran, she suggested I took her into town early next week to choose something. Very thoughtful is Fran!
“At the same time,” she said, “we can look out for something for me. Oh,” she continued, “We can get some earrings for Emma (Granddaughter) at the same time.”
I cringed inwardly… Shopping with Fran is like going out and watching one’s wallet get thinner and thinner by the minute! I think she wants either a necklace or a bracelet. You can bet your life it won’t be from Woollies, knowing her! Emma is fast taking after her mum in this respect. The days of washing my car for a quid are long gone. I could get the most expensive hot wash, wax and interior clean-out for what Emma wants! Not to worry; they’re good kids and I’m only glad I can spoil ‘em rotten!
The trouble with me and shopping is that I see something that takes my eye; I buy it and then have to decide who would like it. It’s a sort of backwards approach to the problem! For instance, I have seen some beautiful jet jewellery and I’m very tempted to buy some. It isn’t cheap but it looks really great! Jet, by tradition is set in silver and not gold in order to provide a greater contrast. I got some earrings last year for a friend and this time, perhaps, I might get her a matching pendant or something. Men are much easier to please; a bottle of decent malt or a box of cigars and they’re well satisfied!
As for me? Well, I know how very generous my readers are so I’ll leave it to you to choose!

Season of Goodwill

2006-11-28T01:22:00.000Z

Season of Goodwill???
Not on your Nellie!
Normally, I’m an easy-going sort of bloke but recently, some people have really got up my nose!
I have been reminiscing lately about a few people and my presents list will have dropped a little this year as one or two former recipients are no longer in the running They range from the adorable to the dislikeable; from the beautiful to the passable.
One of the more attractive ones is, unfortunately, unable to divulge her a/d for security reasons. The only thing I can do is to send her a card on Incredimail! Seems a pity but I must respect her privacy.
Another is a close relative of the first one. She has problems of her own but always goes out of her way to show some genuine friendship and understanding. This lady is most certainly on my list!
There is one whom I have known for quite a long time and is a self-confessed super-bitch. I have started to appreciate that she really is one hell of a bitch so whether or not she will still qualify, remains to be seen. Then again, we’ve known each other for a long time, I reckon I’ll be getting her something as usual.
Some of my friends live much further afield. One of them is a little selfish. She is not really appreciative of anything and at present, is in a love-hate situation with me. Very rarely has she reciprocated with even the tiniest sign of enthusiasm. In fact, these days, it takes all her time to speak to me! I’m afraid she can whistle!
Another transatlantic friend of long standing hasn’t been around much lately. She’s a great Southern Gal and I always remember her.
There is someone, however, whom I shall most definitely remember. This person has had it a little rough lately but recently, she appears to be much happier. She is rather special and I try to see that she is not forgotten. She is a delightful friend and I really shall take great pleasure in selecting her gift this Yuletide!
There is a newcomer to the ranks; a very pleasant and attractive friend. She, too, has had her share of misfortune but I’m making sure she gets some enjoyment this coming holiday.
I have a 15 year-old granddaughter, going on 25, who has already put feelers out and dropped broad hints that she would like some gold earrings. “Long dangly ones,” she insisted. At least, this is a start, so that’s one problem solved!
As for the others, I’m open to ideas. I suppose, as usual, Yuletide will cost me an arm and a leg. I have already considered earrings, bracelets, pendants, liqueur chocolates and perfume.
Anybody out there got any alternative suggestions?

WIMMIN!!! YOU CAN’T DO WITH ‘EM AND YOU CAN’T DO WITHOUT ‘EM!

Ps… There is, of course, another whom I shall be remembering. She is someone I’ve loved for over thirty years. Someone so very special that words cannot fully describe her. I consider myself so very fortunate in having known her and won her love.
Years ago, I gave her my heart; she still has it!

Christmas is coming...

2006-11-21T01:11:00.000Z

It was the last week in October and I had occasion to go into town to pick a few things up. I was amazed to find most large stores had already set up Christmas decorations. At one time, it was usually the first week in December before they started doing this but every year it seems to get earlier and earlier. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if stores opening after the holidays were displaying Easter eggs!
I’m not against Christmas; I have always enjoyed it, and as quite a lot of readers will know, I invariably make a point of giving special presents to close friends at Yuletide.
I try to vary the presents from year to year, apart from those friends who always like the same sort of thing. For those, I get them that which I know they would like. Usually it’s a bottle of very rare malt whisky.
Last year, the accent was on earrings. I bought several pairs including some for my two daughters.
I bought Blue John earrings for them. (Blue John is a very rare quartz crystal only found in one area of Derbyshire and highly collectable.) I also bought earrings in garnet, amethyst, topaz and jet. I bought a pair of very expensive gold earrings for a special friend but, funnily enough, I didn’t buy any for my wife. She has gone through life without ever having had her ears pierced! Instead, I bought her a jade pendant, set in gold.
This year, I have yet to decide on what the theme will be. Ideally, it will be jewellery, as I can get this from one or two shops in the city centre that I know quite well. I can make all or most of my purchases in one fell swoop, so to speak. They are relatively close together so it would save a lot of chasing about from place to place in the pre-Christmas rush! It isn’t that I treat shopping for presents as a chore; it’s just that I don’t like shopping anyway!

Resumption of verses

2006-11-16T15:53:00.000Z

Last year, I wrote a poem for a friend describing the summer days we had shared. (blog March 06 2006) It wasn’t a romantic poem in the sense of those I had written for Iris but even so, I felt a little guilty about writing it and regretted doing so. It was almost as though I’d betrayed her memory.
This year, I have started writing poetry again. I have written eight so far, starting with the one I wrote for our anniversary. (blog Feb.14th 2006) What motivated my writing again, I don’t really know. All I wanted was to show that my love for Iris hadn’t waned. I found the best way to do it was to write the verses for her even though she would never read them.
I think that after I had started writing a blog earlier this year on the advice of a dear friend, I felt closer to Iris than I had done for a long time. It was as if she were there with me as I wrote about her. I have never regretted for one minute starting this blog and I have found that there are quite a few people who understand how I feel. Indeed, several friends often leave messages, for which I’m always very grateful.
I am frequently urged by a few close friends to publish some of my poetry. However, I’m undecided about this as, although I would like some recognition for my poetic writings, I feel I would be opening up our private world to everyone and not just to a limited readership as I have here.
Twenty-six years is a long time to grieve over somebody but I make no apology for admitting that I’m still in love with Iris; I always will be.

Can any reader, anyone, tell me I am being stupid and irrational for behaving like this? Am I clinging on to a part of my life best forgotten?
Then again, how could I possibly exist without her memory?

Some notes on the poetry

2006-11-13T21:41:00.000Z

I first started writing poetry to Iris early in 1973. I wasn’t in the habit of verse-writing and indeed, I hadn’t done so since my early teens in schoolboy ‘crushes’.
I found that I could write verse better if I were either very sad or very happy. The two early poems were written in a sad mood when I was unsure of Iris’s feelings towards me. The first poem I wrote can be seen on my blog page, Jan.20th 2006. The second was published in my blog Feb.6th.
The sonnet, (blog Jan.31st 2006) written in February 1973, was composed on St. Valentine’s Day. It was only a few hours after we had made love for the very first time on the evening before. It is a verse written in sonnet form; i.e. a fourteen line poem with the last two lines as a couplet. The sonnet was very popular in the sixteenth century with Shakespeare, Donne, Marvell, etc. I only wrote that one sonnet as I always regarded it as something very special.
My all-time favourite was Iris of the laughing eyes. (blog March 20th 2006) I thought it captured her very being; it was so descriptive of her. It was written on a train when I was coming back from a meeting in London.
I wrote the poem of our first anniversary one night when I was working late. This has not been published yet. I took great delight in giving it to her a couple of days later. We always made St. Valentine’s Day our anniversary, not because that was the first time we had met but because it was the first time we had shown commitment to each other. I wrote a special poem every anniversary and on all her birthdays. Sadly, very few remain.
Iris’s favourite has been saved, however. (blog Sept.6th 2006) It was the poem written in July 1974 on our return from Scotland and the Gretna Green ceremony. We had quite a few pics taken of the ‘wedding’ but alas, none has survived.
I wrote between forty and fifty poems over the years and Iris enjoyed them all. The original two that she never saw were written shortly after her death. One of them was the one published recently. (blog Oct.8th 2006) The other, written two weeks after her death, has yet to be published. It was the very last romantic poem that I ever thought I would write.

Doldrums again

2006-11-11T02:16:00.000Z

Writing about the dull and dreary days in the run-up to Yuletide made me descend into a very melancholy frame of mind. The weather was cold and wet and there wasn’t much going on to cheer me up. I drifted into a reverie. I found myself thinking about Iris and how I was missing her so very much. Before I realised it, I had penned another poem. This was the ninth I had written this year!
However, although the poem was a little sad, it helped me out of the slough of despondency in which I had been wallowing.

I can but dream…

My dearest love, how can I hope to say
How much I’ve missed you since you went away,
And in these lonely six and twenty years,
The very thought of you brings forth my tears

And in my dreams, I walk with you once more,
Together now, as we were times before.
And as I turn the pages of my mind,
The images of yesteryear I find.

And every night, I think such thoughts as this,
Those velvet lips I long ago did kiss,
Those hands, those laughing eyes, your silken hair,
And dreaming, do I see you everywhere.

I greet the dawn and face reality,
Another day that you will never see.
How long, my love, how long do I despair
Of knowing that you never will be there?

In the doldrums

2006-11-08T22:02:00.000Z

There are two periods of the year that are, to me, most depressing. One of them is just after the New Year and the other is the run-up towards Yuletide.
I am in the middle of such a depression right now. Hardly anything is happening, nothing much appears to interest me and I find there is very little to write about that is worth mentioning.
This is not a new experience; I’ve always found this time of year very boring, although during the Iris era, I didn’t notice it as much.
November and December in 1973 were given over to run-of-the-mill activities. I had my club bookings and we would hurry back home out of the cold instead of staying out for a late meal as we often did earlier in the year.
I remember we once made the mistake of accepting an invitation from Iris’ sister and her husband around this time to join them at their favourite pub one Sunday evening. It was a dreary place in a small village just outside the city. The décor hadn’t been changed for the last twenty-odd years and by the taste of it, the beer hadn’t either! I said it was their favourite pub; in fact it was the only pub they ever visited and that was only on Sunday evenings. The highlight of the night was a half-hour Bingo session with a prize of five pounds! Even in the early 70s, a fiver was laughable!
One evening, I suggested that we took them out for a meal for a change. We picked them up from home and drove out to a decent little place that Iris and I knew quite well. It was a pub in Derbyshire highly praised for its cuisine. Iris and I plumped for escargots for starters. Her sister and hubby chose prawn cocktail! I cringed when giving the order to the waiter! However, I managed to persuade them to try the venison medallions which they enjoyed, not having had venison before.
Yes, these weeks leading up to Christmas will, I know drag on and on until suddenly I’ll be caught up in the pre-holiday mad scramble. I reckon that bears and squirrels have got it made; they can get their heads down and hibernate until springtime!

Trivia note... Doldrums
The doldrums are areas of very still air near the equator that stalled sailing ships. The doldrums are located between 5 degrees north and 5 degrees south of the equator. They are also known as the Intertropical Convergence Zone.

Despicable!

2006-11-07T02:02:00.000Z

Recently, two people have been libelling me on various websites. The matter became so serious that I instructed my solicitors to issue a warning. They have been given the choice of either removing the offending posts or face a court hearing.
Since then, they have descended into the unspeakable level of making defamatory remarks about Iris. They claim that she was of loose morals; was only 14 when I first met her; had affairs while being with me; likened her cremation to an ashtray and that she was decidedly ugly!
The sheer lies that have been published are really beyond belief. Not only are they completely untrue but neither of these animals ever knew Iris! They didn’t know her at all! As these cretins are under forty years of age, they were little more than children when Iris was alive. One of them is a confirmed alcoholic living in Brighton and the other is a neer-do-well living in Sheffield with a history of drug abuse.
I will challenge each one of these evil morons here and now to prove a single word of their disgusting publications.
I’m sure that regular readers will be interested in the outcome of this.

Am I different?

2006-11-04T00:53:00.000Z

Looking back over the Iris years, I knew that I was just as much in love with her in 1980 as I was in 1973. I would look at her and be instantly aroused. Her slightest touch would awaken my hormones and a smile would make my heart leap!
No other woman before or since has had that effect on me. No other woman could ever take her place. Was this normal behaviour for a couple who spent so much time together? I know that some other couples become a little stale and take each other for granted. My wife and I have been married for many years, yet while we love each other, we do not live in each other’s pockets and we have other interests that do not necessitate doing them together.
I go out with friends some evenings and my wife will go out with her friends, each of us enjoying ourselves. We don’t have to be together all the time to get along. Not so with Iris. We were absolutely inseparable; we could go out with friends, we could sit at home in front of the television, we could do anything and nothing and find pleasure in doing it together. Our love life was perfect; no other woman excited me as much as Iris. Were we so very different from others? Were we so selfishly entwined?
I would have never dreamed of going off without her on my own, nor would I have ever participated in a hobby or pastime in which she wasn’t interested.
I always observe the basic courtesies when I’m in female company, as anyone who knows me will confirm. I will stand when a woman either enters or leaves. I always open a door for them. I always allow a woman to choose where she wants to go when dining out. (Although I insist on selecting the wine!) Am I so different or am I still living in an age where these things were done as a matter of course? Sometimes I feel as though I’m a dinosaur in another era.
Do manners matter any more? Do women appreciate being treated as ladies these days? Or is a man who observes social niceties considered to be some kind of freak? Comments from readers of the fair sex would be most welcome.

Convalescence

2006-11-01T23:51:00.000Z

Although I wouldn’t admit it, the influenza had really weakened me and I realised I wouldn’t be going back to work in the immediate future. It was a week since I’d been ill and I was just able to potter around the house. I had lost my taste for cigarettes and beer and I was sick and tired of watching TV and doing endless crossword puzzles!
Andrea came round again with Iris and was I glad to see them? There were only fleeting moments when I could embrace Iris, which made it all the more frustrating but at least she was there. My wife suggested laying on a dinner for the pair of them but I knew I’d never be able to disguise my feelings. I made the excuse that my appetite had gone and to take trouble over a special meal would have been a waste.
The second week began with my going out well wrapped up for a short stroll and gradually I progressed to being able to get in my car and drive round a bit. The ‘flu had left me with aching limbs and a general malaise all over. I needed to see Iris on her home ground; to have her hug me and to feel her near. One evening, I made the excuse that I was going to see an old mate who was appearing at a local club. Off I went and I found myself once more with Iris. It was wonderful to lie next to her again but unfortunately the ‘flu had left me weaker that I expected. Iris didn’t mind; she was just pleased I was getting better! I made a mental note to send Andrea the biggest bunch of flowers I could find.
The good news came at the end of the second week when my doctor announced that I could go back to work the following Monday. The cold hadn’t entirely gone; the beer still tasted awful and the cigarettes foul! However, I was getting back to normal and back to Iris!
It was over two weeks since I had last stayed with Iris at her house; OUR house! I realised just how much she meant to me. I had seen the tears in her eyes when she came to see me with Andrea. I felt so very helpless not being able to hold her. I never wanted to go through such a long separation ever again.

Andrea to the resue!

2006-10-29T20:33:00.000Z

Regular readers will know Andrea as my personal secretary at work and how she fussed over me like a mother hen!
When she heard I was ill and confined to bed, she came over to see me one evening. I was so very pleased to see her after what had seemed a lifetime in bed. (It was only the third day!) She brought me up to date with news from work. I wasn’t particularly bothered but as she had taken the trouble to come over, I feigned interest. She asked me if there was anything I wanted and I said that the only thing I really wanted was to see Iris. I was feeling groggy with all the jollop I was taking so she didn’t stop long.
On the fifth day of my confinement, my doctor told me I could get up and sit around the house but not to go outside or to bother about work yet. I phoned Iris to tell her I was, at least, on my feet again. I rang Andrea to tell her likewise.
The next evening, Saturday, my wife announced that I was to expect visitors. Andrea was coming again and bringing a friend from work. I wondered who would be coming with her. I was in the drawing room sitting in an easy chair surrounded by newspapers and magazines when Barbara announced Andrea’s arrival. She said she’d leave us to it to catch up on the news from work.
Andrea entered the room closely followed by another… It was Iris!!! She looked heavenly; I almost yelled out with joy. Iris came to me and hugged and kissed me as though we’d been apart for years. She later sat at my feet while Andrea sat in another chair opposite me. Suddenly, I felt 100% better! Just seeing Iris did more good than all the pills and potions I’d been taking.
My wife entered with coffee and cakes and asked Iris if she was comfortable sitting on the floor. Iris said she was. Andrea introduced her to my wife as a work colleague.
My younger daughter put in an appearance and was surprised to find Iris there. She knew Andrea from way back but she had only met Iris once a few days previously as I wrote in a recent blog article.
After they had gone, my wife commented on how very attractive Iris was and how long had I known her? I muttered something about her being working there for some time now and she was ‘one of the crowd’, who came to see me on the club circuit. My daughter was standing next to me and winked most mischievously. A girl old before her time was Frances!

Separated!

2006-10-26T23:50:00.000Z

It was November 1973 and I was feeling very rough. I had a streaming cold and I went to see my doctor. He took one look at me and said “You have influenza.” I told him that I’d had ‘flu before but never like this. He told me that although I’d had several colds before. I’d never had full-blown influenza.
“Go home, go to bed and stop there for a few days,” he advised. “This is serious; I’ll come and see you in two days time.” I went home, phoned in work and said I was ill. With that, I sat down to a light lunch. Suddenly, I found I had lost my appetite and felt as weak as a kitten. My wife instantly bundled me off to bed with a couple of hot water bottles and an electric blanket. “Sweat it out,” she advised. I began to realise that this indeed was no ordinary cold and I was in no mood to argue.
I stayed in bed all that day wondering how I could contact Iris. In 1973, very few households had bedside phone extensions so a phone call was out of the question.
In the afternoon, my daughter came to see how I was and I asked her to ring Iris for me and tell her I wouldn’t be around for a day or two. A day or two!!! Little did I know then that I would be incapacitated for a whole week in bed.
I had a very restless night and most of it was a combination of feeling awful and worrying about Iris. The doctor came the next morning and confirmed the influenza. He told me it would take at least a fortnight for me to get over it. My wife started ringing round my agents to cancel club bookings and to inform work of my absence for the immediate future.
I wasn’t eating, I wasn’t interested in the newspapers or radio (There was no TV in the bedroom) and I just lay there for the first few days in a miserable state! I was so very worried about Iris and wondered if she knew how I was. My daughter reassured me that she’d been phoning Iris every day to tell her of my progress or, at that time, my prolonged incarceration. Iris had told her I shouldn’t worry; she was thinking of me and hoped I would soon be on my feet again. This was only three days into my bedfast state and it seemed like a month!
I was being fussed over and cosseted by the family who really were concerned about me but selfish as it may seem, I longed for the bedroom door to open and find Iris standing there. God, how I was missing her!
More next time.

Girls' night out!

2006-10-24T22:21:00.000Z

Before I left home, I ‘phoned Iris to warn her that I was bringing my daughter with me. I added that she knew nothing of our relationship so we’d have to play it by ear, as it were.
We arrived at Iris’ place and we went in. Iris was all ready to go out and she looked gorgeous. Fran took to her straight away as I introduced her as an old friend who sometimes came with me to a club when I was appearing there.
We entered the club and found the table that had been reserved for artistes. I went to the bar and got drinks for the three of us; beer for me, white wine for Iris and a coke for Fran. There was a group on that night which was very popular at the time and the three of them, knowing me, joined us at the reserved table. I introduced my daughter who was over the moon at this! They shortly went on stage to do their first number and Fran was absolutely enthralled. After their session, they rejoined us and I left them to go and do my spot. I was well-known in that club and always went down pretty well. Returning to the table, I found a drink waiting for me bought by one of the group. Fran was drinking something that suspiciously looked like gin and tonic! It was an interval before the dreaded Bingo session started and we chatted away about this and that. Iris had gone to the ‘little girls’ room’ when Fran suddenly said. “Terry (one of the group) says that he thought Iris was your wife but I told him that she was your girl-friend.”
“Oh shite!” I thought, “Now what?” Fran continued, “It’s ok, Dad, I knew you had a girl-friend, Jane and I guessed a long time ago.” Jane was my elder daughter, two years older. I mumbled something about fifteen year-olds drinking gin and left it at that. The evening wore on and both Fran and Iris were really enjoying it, especially Fran, who was being chatted up by the group!
On the way back, I said that I’d drop her off as I had to take Iris home. Fran asked, “Where does mom think you are. I told her I had to pop back into work later to check on the night shift and it may take some time! Fran gave me an old-fashioned look and said, “Dad, I reckon I’ll be able to come out to clubs with you quite often now!” I got the message; blackmail was the name of the game!