I came across this film which I did some many years ago about Lieutenant General Arthur Percival and the Battle of Singapore in World War Two and as it is VJ Day today I thought this was appropriate.
Here is the link. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3lLGllAfkE
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We’re having a heatwave, a tropical heatwave
The temperature’s rising, it isn’t surprising,
She certainly can can-can
BLIMEY, ISN’T IT HOT!
I saw a photo of someone’s dog on Facebook which prompted me to find a photo of my dog when I was a child. He had a pedigree of Champion dogs going back to his Great Grand Parents but we just called him Chips.
In an instant I became a child again!
I have not been idle during the Covid lock down for I have spent my time constructively writing a detective novel and to quote my own publicity blurb.
The Case of the Grease Monkey’s Uncle is set in 1947 and tells the story of James Arbuthnott and Arcibald Cluff, two recently demobbed soldiers and the first case for their Detective Agency, Arbuthnott and Cluff.
James was the taller of the two, with wavy fair hair and a moustache to match, very much the Officer and Gentleman and although of Scottish descent he had no trace of an accent, educated at Eton he had that distinguished confident air that immediately says, good breeding whilst his colleague was shorter and an altogether rougher diamond with ginger hair, from the East End of London, it would be true to say that one was tall and good looking whilst the other was not so lucky in the looks department and was built like a brick out house.
The mystery of the disappearance of the Uncle of William Trubshaw, involves criminality, murder, glamour, intrigue and occasionally down right stupidity.
It is available now on Amazon.co.uk and very reasonably priced I might add.
I have just seen the news concerning the grave of Nigger, the dog belonging to the famous 617 Squadron Leader Guy Gibson at RAF Scampton; it seems the powers that be have seen fit to remove the original gravestone and replace it with a new one omitting the dogs name.
Here is the original.
Having been there and seen the original grave stone with Niggers name on it I am lost for words as to why it should be removed, you can’t change history and anyone interested enough in the history of the story of the brave men of 617 Squadron, who goes to RAF Scampton and sees the grave will know the dog’s name was Nigger, removing it from the stone will not change history.
Here is the replacement gravestone with no mention of the dogs name; it seems sad enough to me that this very famous dog died on the night of the raid but to now desecrate his grave in this fashion is appalling, surely the dog should be allowed the dignity of his name on his grave.
HOW NOT TO RUN A TELEPHONE COMPANY?
This is the sorry tale of how not to run a telephone company and one that has caused me enormous stress; indeed, at one point I was close to losing the will to live.
The whole sorry saga started in April, I believe the 11th when we first contacted Vodafone to inform them of a fault on our line, whereupon they asked us to perform various tasks, including the semi dismantling of our box which the router and phone line are plugged into.
After much fuffing about we found that our Broadband was slow and we had no telephone dialling tone whatsoever but as this was in the middle of the Covid 19 crisis, there was no chance of getting anyone to repair it, so we left it, feeling lucky that at least we had the internet working albeit slowly.
We left the box in its semi dismantled state as we had children working from home and didn’t dare touch the box for fear of losing the internet altogether but finally when the Covid situation seemed to be getting better I decided to contact the supplier to try to sort out the faulty telephone line.
I was unable to find a telephone number with which to contact them so had to resort to contact through their messaging service, little did I know how long and arduous this process would be.
Unfortunately, the transcript is far too long to put on this post as it took in total some 2 hours 39 minutes, however if you’re feeling masochistic or want a good laugh, along the lines of Victor Meldrew I can email it to you should you send your email address; I might have had an easier time had I taken on the task of pushing water uphill.
I was rather hoping that at the end of this marathon session, someone would rush round and fix the telephone with some degree of speed but this was not to be; I received two telephone calls from what I assume was the maintenance side of things which bizarrely seemed to ring of each time I tried to answer.
This may have been my fault as my old mobile had chosen to disintegrate and I was not yet used to the new one I had purchased to replace it; however, I phoned them back expecting to book an appointment for someone to come and fix the phone; little did I know that this would entail another 1 hour conversation to manage to persuade them to send someone to fix it.
A day or so later a very pleasant chap from BT (or whoever is responsible for the line) came round and having assessed the problem set about changing the box which the telephone and the router plug into as it was faulty.
One of the problems of getting older is looking back on the golden era when thing used to make sense, when you could phone up to inform your supplier that your telephone was faulty and they would send a man round to repair it. When written down like this, it all seems so obvious, what a shame that it doesn’t seem that obvious to my supplier.
As a small post script, some of you may have noticed I haven’t posted for a few days, this is because I have spent the time uploading my new book which I wrote during the Corvid lockdown to Amazon; when I’m happy that I have it uploaded correctly I shall put up the details so you can all rush out and buy a copy!
I was hoping to get my haircut yesterday but there was a mix up with the appointment, however I am delighted to report I am now sporting a brand new short back and sides and can barely contain my excitement.
It seems a little odd that barbers are allowed to work and yet my wife who has a beauty salon specialising in hair, mole, skin tag and cysts removal is not yet allowed to open, except to do pedicures.
Apparently the removal of some of the more yucky, (this being the technical term for the procedure) treatments, omits moisture into the air which can be breathed in, which is why my wife is dressed up with so much PPE she looks more like she is about to undertake open heart surgery.
Now I’m not sure how this Corona virus works and was rather worried for the well-being of my wife should she breathe any of this virus and on that basis I’m rather hoping that when she is doing one of her pedicures that none of her clients should fart too violently, although I have no idea if you can catch Covid 19 from a fart.
On a brighter note here is a photo of my new haircut, I know I should have dressed up a little before having it taken but I was overcome with excitement having just returned from the barber.
Mr Trump finally says he will wear a face mask, he said he has found one that makes him look like the Lone Ranger.
I have two questions concerning this, firstly if he wears a mask that will in any way attempt to block Covid 19, how will he see where he’s going and secondly will he plump for the full blown outfit like most children do and have two holsters and two guns.
Mr Trump, the gift that keeps on giving, you couldn’t make this stuff up, which leaves me with very little to add, except.
HI-HO SILVER. AWAY!
My wife has a fitbit, I believe this is her second, although I know of people who have had quite a few, some through fashion and some due to malfunction, this being the case with my wife, although to be fair she has had it for five years.
As a collector of classic cars, my current oldest is 70 years old and still in perfect working order, I’m thinking a product made with modern production methods and precision engineering ought to last longer than five years, especially as the latest top of the range costs £199.00.
My wife though was adamant, she must have a replacement fitbit, for how else will she be able to tell how much exercise she has had in the day or how well she has slept at night?
I had a suggestion for her which may help to save the cost of a new fitbit and one which I use myself; when you go to bed at night if you are feeling exhausted, then it is safe to assume you have been very busy and taken a lot of exercise in some form or other, conversely when you waken in the morning if you are also feeling exceedingly tired, it is fairly safe to assume you haven’t had a good nights sleep, it’s not rocket science!
I was watching a news item this morning concerning the effects of Covid 19 on the poor and underprivileged which I thought rather stated the bleeding obvious, that poor and underprivileged people were suffering more in the current situation.
Without putting too fine a point on it, I would have thought it safe to say that the poor and underprivileged suffer more whatever the situation, however I believe the news went on to suggest the poor would be suffering in the current heat wave we are experiencing in the UK today, when they are queuing outside the shops; I have a feeling I may have conflated the news and the weather forecast but I couldn’t be certain.
Whilst I am not poor, I am certainly not rich, but to my great joy I do have sufficient funds to be the proud owner of two Sola Topee, or Pith Helmets as they are more commonly known.
I have a British Army Foreign Service Tropical Pith Helmet the type worn in the 19th century.
I also have an Indian style Sola Topee also know as a Bombay Bowler, both of which are very stylish and most suitable for the current weather conditions, which leads me back to the original point of this post; for whilst I am lucky enough to have the choice of two Pith Helmets, the poor and underprivileged will have to resort to the old tried and tested knotted handkerchief on the head should they wish to protect themselves from the harsh rays of the Sun.
The Diary of a Country Bumpkin 