The King Of The Swingers

It's Thursday morning and Marion is at the hairdressers so I decide to spend a couple of hours at the gym. I finish my routine and head down to the changing room. As I go in, I'm aware of a conversation going on in the communal shower. I glance in that direction. It's two oldish blokes. The first is showering conventionally facing the jets of hot water. His companion has his back to the water and, in even the briefest of glances, it's impossible not to notice that he's endowed with the most unfeasibly oversized meat and two veg since the Great British Bake Off's squirrel. His Cumberland sausage almost brushes his knees. The shower stands like a stage a foot or so above the changing room floor and I half expect him to fling out his arms and regale us with a chorus of "I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts". In true gym tradition I avert my eyes.


I head for my locker and can hear them droning on about Council employees and local politics. I get out of my sweaty gym stuff and hear the shower stop running. The first man drapes himself in a towel and walks modestly to his locker; not so our Alpha male; he strides manfully across the floor and ends up at the locker next to mine.


I'm about to head into the shower when my phone goes. I reach into my gym bag and fish it out. It's Flo's care home enquiring about a doctor's appointment. I sit down to take the call only to find his tackle an inch away from my ear (and my elbow). I feel like I'm being eavesdropped by an albino python.


I end my call and go to the shower. As I shower the blah, blah, blah of council, golf club and Christmas continues behind me. As I finish I see that the friend has had time to dry, dress, tidy his hair and put on his coat as well as run through the minutes of the Golf Club AGM. But our king of the swingers has obviously decided to drip dry.


As the friend takes his leave he wishes everyone a Merry Christmas. I, together with the other members in various states of undress attempt to ignore the elephant in the room. He moves to centre stage and starts doing some sort of stretching exercises. It could not be more obvious that he is staking his claim to the territory if he went and peed in every corner. The look on his face says it all. "I'm the cock of the walk". "I'm the dog's bollocks". I'm surprised that he hasn't an arrow tattooed above his groin along with the message "LOOK WHAT I'VE GOT". I wonder if I should ask him if he'd like me to head for reception and ask Lisa to put out an announcement on the Tannoy "Ladies and gentlemen please roll up, roll up to the gentlemen's changing room where Mr Ivor Biggun is displaying his GINORMOUS testacles.


By now, I'm almost dressed and there's a palpable air of relief in the room as he heads to the locker and reaches for some clothes. He pulls out a shirt. I'm probably not alone in thinking "Bloody hell. He'll have his jacket and tie on before the crown jewels get put away."


As I comb my hair he reaches into his bag and pulls out a huge pot of E45 cream. On taking a big dollop and starting to massage it into his buttocks he sparks a mass exodus of disheveled members stumbling to tie up laces and straighten hair. An instructor passes us on the stairs. "Where's the fire?"


I head back to the car and the phone rings. It's Marion. I refrain from telling her that I've spent the last ten minutes as an unwilling spectator to an audition for King Dong. "I'm ready" she says "will you be long?"


"Don't worry" I say. "I'll be with you shortly."




Happy Christmas and thanks for reading my blog.


I'll leave you with a link to my usual favourite Xmas video click here. (I can't find an embed code anwhere)


And here's a  cheesy feel good one for the season of good will.  

Shirley No Mates

I'm sure that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle would be turning in his grave if he knew that's how his classic detective is referred to in the latest Guy Ritchie interpretation of his work. Along with all sorts of modern anachronisms such as a parkouring Cossack, a tribute to Liu Bolin and a Victorian stag party, this is a film that makes no attempt at creating any semblance of a Victorian atmosphere although, unlike Benedict Cumberbatch's current TV offering, the story is notionally set in 1891. As long as you go to see it forewarned and don't expect any brilliant deduction or hope to guess whodunnit , sit back and enjoy a very enjoyable couple of hours escapism. Jude Law plays straight man Watson to Robert Downey Jnr's manic Holmes in a plot that echoes some of the wilder Bond movies with megalomaniac Professor Moriarty planning to take over the world's weapons supply. It's daft, but visually stunning, with great use of stop motion sequences and a performance from Downey Jnr (with a twinkle in his eye reminiscent of Lovejoy in his prime) that oozes charm. If you've been reading this blog recently, you will know that we've had a fair few problems of late. This piece of pure escapism was the perfect antidote. One negative; the stereotypical depiction of gypsies may have been done for laughs but it was cheap laughs like these that got Jimmy Carr in trouble a couple of years ago and I could have done without it.

It's things like that that get people in trouble nowadays as Liverpool's Luis Suarez found out yesterday. I still have two season tickets at Anfield although my disillusionment with the game is such that I no longer go to matches. I'm divided on the Suarez case. I'm glad that the Football Association took his alleged racism seriously and imposed a swingeing penalty to go with their verdict.  If John Terry is also found guilty, I assume that he will get the same sort of punishment. Was he guilty? Suarez and his supporters argue that  calling someone Negrito is commonplace in Uruguay where it is just a bit of friendly banter. But we are not in Uruguay and it's pretty obvious that when he and Evra were arguing they were not exactly being pally so it's clear that when Suarez used the term he wasn't intending it as a term of endearment. Perhaps an expensive lesson for Liverpool and the role of sacrificial lamb for their player but hopefully a warning for every footballer in the country. Now they just have to sort out the fans who make going to football such a pleasurable event.

I hope you followed my advice and watched the Christmas edition of Rev. It surpassed all expectations with a beautiful study of the trials and tribulations that were Reverend Adam Smallbone's Christmas. This is one of the few comedies that can bring as many tears as it can laughs and, like my other favorite, Modern Family, has a fabulous cast and no weak links. If you missed this make sure that you catch it on BBC iplayer while you can  click here . Adam's Twelve Days Of Christmas should become a future Christmas staple.    

We've just booked our Christmas dinner. For the first time since we can remember, Marion's not going to be cooking a turkey this year and we're off to join Flo at her care home. The food there is very good. It will certainly be different.

You know you're getting old......

...when one of your son's old school friends turns up on Merseyside's biggest commercial talk radio station City Talk (105.9FM) and he's reviewing the day's papers! Yes, we got up early to listen to Jamie Gavin who not only got ten minutes prime time but also a big opportunity to plug his business InPress Online. His earlier claim to fame was as the bridegroom in the long running Daily Express TV ad campaign with its catch phrase "We stand for family values" but today was far more serious stuff with Jamie commenting on Kim Jong Il and showing a degree of empathy with his successor Kim Jong Un, who, like Jamie, is 28 but, unlike Jamie, has to run a whole country and not just a thriving internet business. He also found time to review the back pages and may have alienated some of his fellow Evertonians with his "if the price is right" attitude to the sale of the team's star players. So well done Jamie, hats off to your performance. We'll let you off your failure to get in the Alan Partridge quotes that your friends requested and applaud you for the professional way that you approached the task. Who knows, my anecdotes about my meetings with Robert Maxwell, Kenneth Clark and James Corden's dad may soon be usurped by my one day being able to name drop you.

Marion's feeling a lot better today and in an hour or two hopes to eat her first meal of any significance since Saturday. I've built a nice log fire and it's blazing away as I write and she's snuggled by it under a blanket reading her Kindle. We've a bit of a break from the routine of visiting Flo tomorrow when we hope to get to Vue to see the new Sherlock Holmes movie. I know that Holmes purists will be apoplectic with the transformation of the cerebral Holmes into a sort of Victorian James Bond but we could do with a bit of escapism and we're off to the 11.20 am performance. I'll let you know what we think.

I've lost contact with almost everyone and everything to do with work in the twelve months since we retired. But I'm pleased to say that we're still in touch with the lovely Mark and Nita Jones from Workhouse Marketing in Ribchester who did so much fabulous work for our business in the short time that we used their creative services. Workhouse have made it a seasonal tradition to produce a short Christmas film and this year's (another cracker) arrived in my mailbox today. Do you have a Secret Santa?





Secret Santa from Workhouse on Vimeo.

Before I go, just a quick reminder that it's Rev on telly tonight. If you only watch one thing, watch this. It's been a fabulous series and I'll be sorry to see it end. I've been amazed that some Christians are up in arms about the show but I think that forward thinking churchmen such as the Rev Richard Coles would find it difficult to take offence. Coles tweeted this morning with a word which my computer Scrabble wouldn't allow when I used it. He said that his dogs had been playing up and he'd found a big shit under his piano.  I tweeted back asking what Piers Morgan was doing under his piano. Others asked if it was Jeremy Clarkson whilst one,  (a vicar perhaps) suggested it was his archdeacon.That's the sort of vicar who might get a few more bums on seats.

Living With Alzheimer's

Apologies if it isn't exactly the most cheerful subject for today's blog but we took Marion's mum Flo to the local NHS memory clinic today to hear the verdict on the comprehensive tests that she has undergone recently. She's had a brain scan, blood tests and has answered a nurse's extremely thorough questionnaire. Although the nurse had already told us her opinion - she stressed that she is not qualified to diagnose - we had to wait for the consultant to break the news. An extremely kind, friendly and patient consultant (call me Derek) spoke to Flo for almost an hour and told her that her brain scan shows that her brain is atrophying and she has a mixture of mostly Alzheimer's and a little dementia related to blood flow in the brain. Fortunately, Derek speaks with a very strong accent and Alzheimer's sounded like Alzharmers and the diagnosis didn't sink in with Flo. And I honestly think that that was no bad thing as she now thinks that her brain is shrinking a little and the pills that he prescribed for her will help. "I'm going to have my brain sorted" she says. In reality Derek put great emphasis on the fact that things will only get worse but the drugs may help her to calm down.


It's now a matter of trying to make her as happy as we can as this ghastly affliction runs its course over the next few years. It has seemed a very rapid decline over the last couple of months and it is hard to believe that just five weeks ago she was (albeit with a great deal of difficulty) living on her own in her own flat. We put her flat for sale as she will eventually need the proceeds to pay for her care but the estate agent is not exactly enthusiastic about the chances of a quick sale despite it being put on the market at just a fraction above the price she paid for it in 1996 and the fact that it is in immaculate decorative order. We'll just have to keep our fingers crossed for her.


Marion was struck down by a mystery bug yesterday. I had a horrible feeling that it was the curry that I made on Saturday night from the leftover turkey we had in the freezer but I ate more than she did and was perfectly well. She had a crippling headache, shivering and stomach cramp and stayed in bed for the whole day and that's something I can't remember her doing since she had pneumonia in 1985. I'm happy to say that she's a lot better today and has managed to eat a poached egg and a bit of toast. I hope that the trip to the memory clinic didn't take too much out of her.

On a more positive note I found a £10 book token today. It was in a card that my mum sent me absolutely ages ago and I somehow didn't spend it. I'm trying to support our local bookshop so went in and treated myself to "I Partridge" the autobiography of the great man himself. Mind you, it's little wonder that local bookshops are struggling. Although the fixed price agreement no longer exists the shop sold it at full list price (£20) whereas I could have popped into Tesco and bought it for just over a tenner. It's a wonderful bookshop and I don't begrudge them a penny but how can any small retailer survive with competition like this? I just dipped into the book; can't wait to read chapters like "My Drink And Drugs Heck".

It's Her Party She Can Cry If She Wants To

Today was taken up with a Christmas tea party for Marion's mum Flo (2nd right). We had six guests in total and Marion was worried that we wouldn't have enough food so she sent me to the supermarket this morning to top up with just a bit more.

She needn't have worried as, apart from enough cold turkey to provide us with at least two hearty meals,  we had this left. And this is just the savoury stuff; we've also got enough Stollen and Mince pies  to feed a small army. On the plus side we've also got a few bottles of decent wine that were surplus to requirements.

Here's the Christmas cake Marion made for the celebration. It's not quite up to our friend Jan's standard on the decoration front but everyone agreed that it was absolutely delicious and when I was making up three doggy bags (or should I say grannie bags) at the end of the day I was a bit stingy with the cake and we've got half of it left for just the two of us - so that's another diet on the horizon for 2012.


Flo seemed to enjoy herself very much while things were in full swing but when it came to going back to the rest home she wasn't happy and we had a lot of  tears both here and at the home. I sometimes wonder if visiting and taking her out so much may be counterproductive to her settling into her new environment. It's really not the easiest thing to balance properly. We're taking her to the Memory Clinic on Monday for the results of her recent brain scan and dementia tests. Perhaps if the specialist prescribes some medication, she may settle down more easily. We hope so.

In Praise Of Modern Family (Again)

We sat down in front of the telly last night to catch up with the stuff we’ve got on the SkyPlus which is almost full of things we’d love to have seen and will probably never get around to. One that most definitely doesn’t fall into that category is Sky1’s Modern Family, which has been amongst our favourites since it launched. We’re now into Series 3. By this time even the greatest sitcoms have usually started to flag; not Modern Family. Episode 10 of the series is the family’s Christmas which is being celebrated a week early due to problems getting everyone together on the big day. From the opening pre credit scene around the swimming pool to the final post credit scene at home, this was perfect television. I can’t reveal the plot for fear of spoiling it for others who have it saved. All I can say is that Christmas came early for us too and I can’t remember watching anything with so many laugh out loud moments; the writers crammed in more in thirty minutes than many Hollywood blockbuster comedies achieve in two hours.

And it’s not even as if the show has one stand out star like Bill Cosby, Bob Newhart or  Will Smith; even the smallest character got at least one big laugh in this episode and the rest got plenty. And it’s also not even as if all the comedy is the same. There are elements of slapstick and farce as well as great lines and brilliantly observed situations. The actors are universally excellent from the patriarch Jay (Ed O’Neill), his glorious Latino wife Gloria (Sofia Vergera), very gay son Michael (Jesse Tyler Ferguson) and his even gayer partner Cam (Eric Stonestreet) but my favourite is the hapless Phil (Ty Burrell) an eternal optimist who always does everything to make things right and inevitably makes everything anything but – a bit like me really. “Down with the kids” Phil’s classic interpretation of WTF (Why The Face) sums him up in a nutshell – wonderful. The kids are all outstanding too. If you haven’t seen Modern Family, treat yourself to a box set for Christmas and lift your family out of the great depression that was 2011.

No Orange Wednesday for us this week; just not enough time week as we’re preparing a tea party for Marion’s mum and we’ve got four old ladies and old man coming round to join us. We’ve just roasted this turkey crown and we’re going to use it to make turkey sandwiches, (which are always the best food bit about Christmas for me). The fridge is absolutely packed so I imagine that our guests will be going home with their usual goody bags that will do them for another couple of meals as they don’t tend to have enormous appetites at 80 plus.

I hope that we will get to the pictures again before Christmas as I quite fancy the new Sherlock Holmes. I loved the last one and the new one has got even better reviews from the critics so I hope that it gets to FACT or Vue next week. We’ve seen so many films this year that it’s hard to say which was my favourite. If pushed I would probably have to go for Submarine – one of the few feel good movies of the year, although A Separation, Of Gods And Men and Cave Of Forgotten Dreams were all memorable.

I’m struggling to read The Slap. I usually fly through novels in a couple of days but this one has really slowed me down. I don’t know if it is all the different characters or the Australian slang that’s making me struggle but I’m persevering as Marion’s got it saved on the SkyPlus and doesn’t want to watch it while I’m still reading the book (Kindle says I’ve got 50% left). Books that were a pleasure to read this year were The White Woman On The Green Bicycle and Florence And Giles both of which I strongly recommend.

Yes Sir That's My Babies

For me, parenthood is the best thing in the world: it's better than all those other things we think are important like careers, homes and pastimes. So last weekend was a very special one as we were not only able to spend it with our lovely daughter Sarah but also with our equally lovely granddaughter Rose who braved the worst that Scotland could throw at them to make it to Southport in one piece on Thursday. We didn't do a lot but being together was very special.

We were able to get out and about with the baby thanks to our wonderful cake making friend Jan Harbon who loaned us this magnificent baby carriage allowing us to take Rose on the dog muck avoiding exercise that is a walk in the local park (aren't they supposed to pick it up - the owners that is not the dogs). It seems that despite the dogs on a lead signs the done thing is to let the dogs off the lead and then carefully inspect a couple of manky rose bushes whilst, to their complete ignorance, Rover and Lassie do their own thing - slap bang in the middle of the path. We'll miss seeing the big old pram in the hall, it has such a homely feel to it.

The log fire came in handy as Sarah and Duncan are keen on being green and Rose has real nappies and not disposables. They're nothing like the nappies our kids had. They're very swish and come complete with fancy pants. They seem to be good for the baby as she's very comfortable in them and Sarah says she's had virtually no nappy rash at all.


You'll have to indulge me now as I upload some photos I promised to post here so my mum can copy them.

Happy Granddad

Happy Nanny

Happy Great Grannies

And Little Miss Sunshine

Thank you.


It's back to reality now and the business of helping Flo sort out her Christmas presents today. We're having a little party for her friends on Thursday so it's off to the supermarket for plenty of Sherry and Turkey.

As little Rose disappears like the Cheshire Cat back to Scotland.