I went last night to my local Bentley Drivers Club Noggin and Natter and was faced with the usual dilemma, how to greet people correctly especially with regard to kissing.

The meeting is usually a chat and a meal in the evening although sometimes it might be at a different time of day and have brunch.

Most of the members are of a certain age, certainly not millennial’s and from the chart below some would be The Silent Generation, although even the older members can make themselves heard more than adequately when they have to turn up the volume.

Many of the older chaps are a font of knowledge were the old cars are concerned and one can always someone to assist with a problem should you consult the correct oracle.

The vast majority are Baby Boomers, including myself with a smattering of Generation X which makes greeting the male half of the members very easy as there is a certain empathy between fellow Bentley drivers.

• The Silent Generation: Born 1928-1945 (73-90 years old)
• Baby Boomers: Born 1946-1964 (54-72 years old)
• Generation X: Born 1965-1980 (38-53 years old)
• Millennials: Born 1981-1996 (22-37 years old)

The usual greeting for any of the chaps is a firm handshake, unlike the youth of today who seem to wish to enter into some sort of arm wrestling contest followed by dragging the poor unsuspecting victim to their chest and patting them firmly on the back, which to us older chaps is a little over the top to say the least.

The problem I find most perplexing is that of kissing the ladies when greeting, especially as we now have the more modern way with the double kiss, I am always lost as to which side to start first, one doesn’t want the temperature to rise too much with this act for heaven fore-fend that these actions might be confused with passion.

Having consulted Debrett’s who have been in the business of etiquette for over 250 years I can see from the guidelines below that I should start kissing the right cheek first, which may go some way to explain my confusion as I have a natural urge to start with the left.

Kissing Guidelines
Social kissing varies according to the age of the people involved. Older people may not want to be kissed at all and even if they do not mind they often only expect one kiss. The double kiss, which is usually the man kissing the woman’s right cheek first, is the norm among younger people.

An air kiss, with no contact at all, may seem rude or impersonal, but at least it is not intrusive – it is simply a social kiss, not a sign of affection to a loved one. A very slight contact is best, and no sound effects are needed.

Having read learned and inwardly digested the above information I look forward with gusto to our next meeting where I shall put the information into practice.

I am delighted to have finished this post, especially as I have completed the Word of the day Challenge, Passion. The Ragtag Daily Promt, Temperature and the FOWC Challenge, Empathy. The writing of the above post took some considerable time most of which was placing the pingbacks in the text and if all goes well and it actually works I have to thank The Ragtag Daily Prompt for being the first person who has actually written a description which seems to make sense of how to do the damn things!

Many years ago I used an Indian restaurant and mentioned it in a post yesterday, this was in response to a post by Bryan Fagan on his blog A Crack in the Pavement which was about writing long hand.

I mentioned that many years ago I used my local Indian restaurant and used to write in long hand having eaten and then drunk a few pints of lager, to which he responded that he’d like to see what I wrote at the end of the night.

When you drink on a regular basis you tend to stay fairly sober, however some nights when I had consumed  a few more pints I would need to translate the scribble I had written at the end of the evening.

Over the course of years some strange and interesting things happened in my local Indian some of which I had made a note of and always thought I would write a book containing these anecdotes, I never wrote the book!

I moved away some years ago now and the place closed down which I thought was a shame as it never gained Listed building status, you don’t see flock wallpaper any more.

However it just occurred to me it might be fun as a blog post so anyone can add comments as I’m sure I’m not the only one to have experienced strange events when eating out.

Please enjoy reading and if you have a funny or interesting story about eating out please add them to the comments.

I WENT TO MY LOCAL INDIAN RESTAURANT

Thirty years ago I went to my local Indian restaurant, it was the opening night.

At the time I didn’t live locally nor did I expect to still be using the same restaurant

some thirty years later.

__________________________________________________________________

I went to my local Indian restaurant, there was a group of deaf people frantically talking together using sign language. The room was full of conversation, but no sound.

_____________________________________________________________________

When I first went into my local Indian restaurant I was the only bloke who would go there and eat alone. Over the years others have followed my example. I felt I made a mark for single mans lib. I still await the women to follow suit

_____________________________________________________________________

An elderly man who I thought was a school teacher always came with his wife and preceded to verbally brow beat her all evening. She never fought back. I always wondered why not?

_____________________________________________________________________

Two elderly ladies came into my local Indian restaurant, they looked as if they might have been gay. I hope they were lovers, to be friends would be too dull.

_____________________________________________________________________

A group of musicians from Albania came into my local Indian restaurant, how interesting was that. They didn’t come back. They were on a world tour.

_____________________________________________________________________

A very large man came into my local Indian restaurant with his girl friend. They proceeded to have a row, whereupon she exclaimed.

“I’m pregnant with his child and normally he’s a very nice man.”

Sadly he started to eat the wine glasses and was eventually evicted by nine police officers. I found out the next day that he beat up his girlfriend and the taxi driver who was unlucky enough to take them home.

_____________________________________________________________________

I used to go into my local Indian restaurant many years ago with my then girlfriend. She was slightly taller than me, slightly younger than me, and much more attractive than me. She was also black and at the time very much in love with me. So, why was everyone looking at us.

_____________________________________________________________________

I’ve been going into my local Indian restaurant for over thirty years. I should have started taking notes years ago.

____________________________________________________________________

The first time I went to my local Indian restaurant and needed a wee and the mens loo was engaged, I sneaked into the ladies. What a revelation, it was immaculate. I had become used to the gents which were frequently like a pig sty.

_____________________________________________________________________

I went into my local Indian restaurant having just seen the film Oscar, based on the life of Oscar Wilde. Tragic how they destroyed such a talented man and his only crime as they saw it. “The love that dare not speak it’s name.”

Although perhaps they really punished him for his arrogance rather than his sexual persuasion.

_____________________________________________________________________

A group of very odd looking people came into my local Indian restaurant. They looked like a sad dating agency group. Whatever they were, they were perfectly behaved and left.

_____________________________________________________________________

I went into my local Indian restaurant prior to the Iraq war. The waiters asked me if I thought the Americans would bomb Iraq. I said “yes they would bomb the shit out of the place.” They didn’t believe me and seemed to have some miss guided belief that Saddam Hussein was some how invincible. I wondered why.

_____________________________________________________________________

I went to my local Indian restaurant, I’d just finished playing the butler in The Importance of Being Earnest at Wimbledon Theatre. Although the run had finished I was still on a high, it was a good evening. That’s why we are prepared to work for nothing. Who else would do that.

_____________________________________________________________________

The dullest man in the world came into my local Indian restaurant. I believe he was an accountant, which perhaps explained it. He later came in with an even duller friend. What had I done to deserve that.

_____________________________________________________________________

I went into my local Indian restaurant, two young people were sharing an ice cream. They were feeding each other. How romantic.

_____________________________________________________________________

I went into my local Indian restaurant and two men came in discussing their children and school. They discussed a school play where one of the boys had performed an amazing dance number and how brilliant it was. What progress, not that many years ago he would have been called a bloody poof.

_____________________________________________________________________

I went into my local Indian restaurant and while I was there I wrote another children’s story, it didn’t get published. It made some children who read it happy and kept me fairly sane while I was writing it. Everything in life has a purpose.

_____________________________________________________________________

I went into my local Indian restaurant with my mother who had come to stay with me for a year after my father’s death. She was well into her seventies and this was the first time she’d been in an Indian restaurant, Sad what a sheltered life my mum and dad had led.

_____________________________________________________________________

I went into my local Indian restaurant, it was busy and as usual I used the loo. The seat was covered in piss splashes. How come most men can find a vagina and insert their penis in this comparatively small orifice. Yet with a target as large as a toilet bowl they miss every time. After using the loo I took some toilet paper and carefully wiped the seat. I hate doing this but don’t want the next person in to think it was me who made the mess. Why am I the only person who ever does this.

_____________________________________________________________________

I went into my local Indian restaurant after watching a television programme about Muslim women complaining that they were not allowed to prey in the Mosque with the men. I was going to ask the Muslim waiters why this was but I knew all they would come up with would be a load of bollocks. Sometimes I haven’t the energy to try to have a sensible discussion with them.

_____________________________________________________________________

Many years ago I went into my local Indian restaurant and sat and chain smoked all night, I was a nicotine addict. I believe in freedom so don’t feel the need to apologise.

_____________________________________________________________________

Recently I went into my local Indian restaurant having given up smoking for five years. The couple on the table next to me smoked all night. As an ex eighty Marlboro a day man I felt it would be a little hypocritical to complain.

_____________________________________________________________________

I went into my local Indian restaurant, sometimes I get depressed, I’m sure I’m affected by the moon. It’s like I’m on the verge of tears, but being alone with my thoughts for the evening sometimes pulls me out of it. Sometimes it doesn’t.

____________________________________________________________________

Two older men came into my local Indian restaurant. One dressed in a very expensive and smart suit, the other in scruffy trousers and a jumper. One had a full curry with all the trimmings and the other had an omelette and asked for brown sauce. Oddly the sophisticated looking one in the smart suit had the omelette with brown sauce.

_____________________________________________________________________

A girl and two boys came into my local Indian restaurant. They moaned during the course of the meal and refused to pay at the end. They became somewhat aggressive and as the only customer left I tried to assist the waiters in getting payment, only for the two boys to pick on me. My bravado was backed up by the fact that one of the waiters had called the police in a voice loud enough for them to hear. Eventually they got bored made the girl pay and left. I was a little upset that the police hadn’t arrived sooner. I was even more upset when the waiter informed me he hadn’t really called the police he was just pretending. I was somewhat lost for words.

_____________________________________________________________________

I don’t think the décor in my local Indian restaurant has changed since opening night.

It won’t take many more years for it to become a listed building.

_____________________________________________________________________

A large group of men, about twenty or more came into my local Indian restaurant. How strange to see such a large group of men with no women with them. The first time they came in they told my friend they were a religious group and later a rugby team. Although to look at them they looked a little old for rugby. Perhaps they were vicars who played in a seniors rugby team. I suppose they would always win having God on their side.

_____________________________________________________________________

I have been using my local Indian restaurant for over thirty years. The food is excellent but the service is abysmal especially for those of us who have been going in for some years. Sadly familiarity breeds contempt.

_____________________________________________________________________

I went into my local Indian and had my usual meal and went rather reluctantly down the road to a pub I don’t usually use but an acquaintance was having her birthday party there. Two chaps were in the bar, one with a Staffordshire Bull Terrier  and the other with a Bullmastif  were goading each other all night. Finally the one with the Bull Terrier went over to the other chap whereupon his dog leapt at the neck of the Bullmastif, unfortunately I had chosen this moment to go to the bar and was trapped between the bar and the dogs. The owner of the Bull Terrier then pulled hard on his dogs lead, I don’t know if this was to get his dog to release or what but the end result was that his dog would not let go and was therefore left swinging in the air somewhere about my lower chest area. “This is fun,” I thought, “I’m so glad we came in here!” Eventually the dogs separated and the fellows made up. Just another example of what happens when you go into your local Indian.

_____________________________________________________________________

I have mentioned on numerous occasions that I am useless at pingbacks and tagging people which may present somewhat of a problem with this post but I will persevere and comply with as many of the requests as I can.

I am putting this link which will go back to the email I received which is the nearest thing I can do by way of a pingback. The problem arises from being a male of the species which means we don’t read instructions and if we get too far and it still doesn’t make sense we find an alternative or give up completely, this is my alternative pingback.

https://suziland.site/2019/02/27/versatile-blogger-award/

The rules of the Versatile Blogger Award are as follows:

1. If you are nominated, Congratulations you have been awarded the Versatile blogger award! 

Hurrah!

2. Thank the person who gave you the award and include a link to their blog.   

Thank you.  https://suziland.site/2019/02/27/versatile-blogger-award/

3. Select 10 -15 blogs/bloggers that you’ve recently discovered or follow regularly.  

I thought it was all going too smoothly!

4. Nominate those bloggers for the Versatile Blogger Award.

Should anyone see this post, for I have no idea if you will please consider yourself nominated and worthy of taking part in this challenge.

5. Tell the person who nominated you 7 things about yourself.

This should be easy, I say should be but if I’m still here at midnight I may have to edit this sentence.

1. I love my wife. There I knew this part would be a doddle!

2.When I’m not blogging I write children’s books which are available on Amazon, they are for 5 to 8 year old children with little jokes for grown ups should they be reading to the children.   https://www.amazon.co.uk/l/B06XKWFQHT?_encoding=UTF8&redirectedFromKindleDbs=true&ref_=dp_byline_cont_book_1&rfkd=1&shoppingPortalEnabled=true

3.I love my classic cars but not as much as my wife. My favourite is a 1947 Bentley Mk VI.

Closely followed by my modern Bentley Arnage.

4.I’m a very lucky man and am very happy.

5.I love doing forties events and dancing and so does my wife.

6.We used to have three Poodles, but we only have one now and he’s getting on a bit, his name is Theo and he’s as daft as a brush but we love him to death.

7.I absolutely hate going food shopping, I find it hard to understand how a woman can spend so long looking at meat products before making the decision of which ones to purchase but I imagine it must be the same as placing a man in a tool shop and watching him dribble when viewing the latest hammer drill or trolley jack. The only difference being that men spend slightly less time looking and buy both of them!

I am going to press the publish button more in hope than expectation that this post will go to the right place, I think it should go to https://suziland.site/2019/02/27/versatile-blogger-award/ but forgive me if I have got the wrong end of the stick.

There is a television program called Escape to the Country which I imagine may have influenced the young 15 year old schoolgirl Shamima Begum to have made the long and arduous journey from her home in Great Britain through Turkey and into Syria.

One never knows whether a move to the countryside will be beneficial until one has tried the life, especially if one is a town dweller, myself I was lucky and took to it like the proverbial duck to water.

How could this unfortunate young lady envision what was to be in store for her when she embarked on the trip of a lifetime to the idyllic caliphate which the terrorist group ISIS had established in Syria?

All the glossy brochures and publicity videos presented the ideal environment in which to bring up your family in the middle of a war zone, after all what could possibly go wrong?

Suffice to say this unfortunate young child seems to have made yet another unfortunate mistake when some 10 days after arriving in Raqqa she married Yago Riedijk a young Dutch boy who turned out to be a convicted terrorist associated with a group who were planning to bomb a fairground in Arnhem. How unlucky can you be?

The saga continues for during breaks when her terrorist husband was not off fighting they managed to have two children, both it seems who died from sickness and malnutrition and yet this plucky youngster stuck it out to the end.

Finally, when the caliphate was almost totally decimated and down to the last stronghold of Bughuz she fled and took refuge in a refugee camp, where heavily pregnant and now 19 years old she gave birth to her third child.

It was at this point that her story started to be told, “at first it was wonderful,” she said, adding “they don’t have any evidence against me doing anything dangerous.”

“When I went to Syria I was just a housewife, the entire four years I stayed at home, took care of my husband, took care of my kids. I never did anything. I never made propaganda, I never encouraged people to come to Syria.”

She went on to say that she wasn’t even fazed by seeing severed heads in bins, although quite how an innocent housewife was in close proximity to severed heads was not explained.

Her lawyer Tasnime Akunjee has asked that she be allowed to come home to Great Britain to bring up her child as she is no threat and is going out of his way to tone down some of the more controversial comments she has made, for example that the bombing at Manchester Arena where 23 people died could be justified from an Islamic point of view.

She may have a point but I still have a bit of a problem with the image of an innocent housewife putting the rubbish bins out and asking her husband, “do these severed heads go in the black or the recycling bin?”

I have been rather busy at the moment which is why this post is a little late and not quite in sync with the weather as described in the post, which at the moment could be described as a glorious sunny day.

However my post today concerns the much more windy weather we were experiencing some days ago when I was looking out of the window to see my neighbours fence swaying about in the gusting wind.

My neighbours fence is considerably newer than mine and has been constructed from what appears to be solid oak the like of which would be most useful should we have a flood of Biblical proportions caused by forty days of continuous rain.

The fence in our garden is somewhat less substantial and over the course of years has been mended on numerous occasions but obviously my handy work was not in vane as our fence was as solid as a rock.

Whilst still on the subject of Biblical analogies I am thinking that next doors fence posts were built on foundations made of sand, or at least built on foundations containing insufficient cement.

Which inevitably brings me on to the subject of Mr Trump and his wall which is fast being downgraded into a fence, I believe the Americans are partial to a white picket fence with roses.

The latest I heard on the news was that he was going to spend 5.7 billion to build his fence, which one has to say is a monumental waste of money as most of the drug and I believe people smuggling is done through the checkpoints.

Now far be it from me to suggest that if he were to invest the 5.7 billion in more police and border checks he could eradicate all the smuggling completely and probably have enough change left over to build a small picket fence along the border, complete with roses for good measure.

As some of you may know I have another blog, https://www.joewellsofwhomithasbeensaid.com/ and this one, both of which I seem to remember I set up myself much to my own amazement, however I have recently been setting up another site which explains my lack of posts recently.

The site I have set up is https://whattogetforthemanwhohaseverything.com/ which is an affiliate marketing page and took ages to even attempt to get it anywhere right, which is why I am asking for your experiences of setting up a new site recently.

It was set up on a WordPress site so should have been easy but when I set up the “products” page which is just like a blog post the toolbar thing which is at the top of both of my blogs was missing and it wanted to keep putting things in boxes, which to me was exceedingly confusing.

Finally I managed to get it to set up the old fashioned version of WordPress but it was still not what I wanted but at least it was something vaguely right so before I lost the will to live completely I settled for what I had.

Perhaps some of you would be kind enough to assist me as you see this site from the other side, so to speak. To me when I write a new post it goes straight to the top of the blog and you can scroll down to see all the previous posts which show up in full, I assume that’s what you see too.

As you can tell I am not a computer whizz kid at all and was wondering if anyone else was experiencing the same problems. Should you feel like responding with your thoughts on the matter please don’t include anything too technical I am a Luddite.

Sorry for veering off topic at the end of this post but I suddenly thought I can’t be the only one confused by what seems to be the new version of WordPress.

I wrote this after adapting some of my latest children’s book called Tom’s Dad and did so in a great hurry, then I noticed it should be a Valentine story………too late now!

TOM’S DAD.

Tom was very proud of his dad especially when it came to school sports day for he knew his dad would enter all the parents events, even if he didn’t win them.
The first event he entered was the pole vault which he attacked at such speed that he shot over the top of the bar and landed some distance away in the long jump pit.
His jump was the longest recorded that day, but as he had landed doing the pole vault the judges felt it wrong to give him a prize.
“I do feel dizzy,” said Tom’s dad, “I wasn’t expecting to fly quite so far, I’ve never done the pole vault before, perhaps I’ll stick to running races from now on.”
At the start of the 100 meters sprint Tom’s dad went off like a rocket and shot into the lead, it looked as if he would win the race but just as he was getting to the finish, his shorts fell down round his ankles and while he stopped to pull them up all the others passed him and finished the race.
“I do feel guilty for not winning,” said Tom’s dad, but his son who was very wise said, “It doesn’t matter dad, we love you whatever you do.”

I was inspired to write this as a tribute to another blogger I have come across who writes some wonderful posts which are both amusing and educational, her latest was on the subject of a play about Agatha Christie.

The title of the blogger in question is londonlifewithliz which hopefully you will be able to view by following the links I am putting up.

‘Where is Mrs Christie?’ My thoughts on a play as intriguing as any of the legendary author’s thrillers

I love Agatha Christie stories and was delighted when I had to go to The Isle of Wight recently to find a hotel which I’m sure alleged to be the hotel which Mrs Christie went to when she disappeared, however having read the above article I now find that the hotel Mrs Christie was found at was The Harrowgate Hydro, now called The Old Swan.

Having written about my disappointment with the Ryde Castle Hotel, I am now doubly disappointed and have no idea where I read the hotel was used by Agatha Christie but I know I saw it somewhere, perhaps it is no longer on the hotel website!

https://lordjoewells.wordpress.com/2018/11/29/isle-of-wight-trip/

All, however is not lost as by a strange quirk of circumstances I have booked a five day trip with Rail Discoveries for my wife and I in June, to go on steam train excursions which is based in Harrowgate. Having read the above article I thought details of the hotel rung a bell and yes, I am delighted to report we shall be staying at The Old Swan Harrowgate. So by sheer chance I shall be staying at the hotel where Agatha Christie stayed when she disappeared, I may get my wife to book in as Mrs Teresa Neele!

I have no idea if I am writing this in the right place or if it will be seen for I have been tagged by pensivity101 to write a story on the image below. Odd that I saw the image before I found I had been tagged and the gem of the story came to my head.

It wasn’t always freezing here, when we first arrived it was a beautiful summers day and strangely enough we were delighted to be here as the truck that brought us here was hell on earth, not fit for cattle let alone that many human beings, for when we started our journey we were human.

We could hear the dogs barking long before they opened the door, soldiers barking orders, blinded by the sun we shuffled along the platform clinging to each other in love as much as fear.

The last time I saw my parents they were disappearing into the shower block and my everlasting memory was a string quartet playing Mozart adagio and fugue in C minor which was quite surreal as it was my fathers favourite piece and one of the first he taught me.

Soon the full horror of this awful place Auschwitz dawned upon us, heads shaved, number tattooed on my arm, the stripped pyjamas and fearful conditions taking the last remnant of dignity.

Then one day the door of the hut swung open and a tall Nazi guard bellowed, “we need a cello player, can anyone in here play the cello?”

I tentatively put my hand up and was dragged out of the hut, I was terrified but what I hadn’t realised in that split second was I had saved my life, I saved my mind by always keeping it outside the wire.

I am going to cheat today with the three things challenge and use something I wrote yesterday as a reply to another blog which wrote of their first teenage kiss.

My first teenage kiss.

I have very little knowledge of Japanese culture but I do have a recollection of my first teenage kiss with a girl I met at a dance.

My first thought on trying to remember my first teenage kiss was, I can’t remember but gradually a recollection from the dim and distant past came back to me.

Back in the 60’s it was not common practice to have any form of sexual contact with the opposite sex in your parents house, it was however quite common for young people to go to the pictures, (the movies for any American readers) for such experiences.

One would head for the back row and when the lights went down, one could commence canoodling whilst most of the people were watching the film, obviously the back row would contain a number of other couples who were there for the same reason.

I seem to remember there was a sort of check list which had been passed down from the more experienced boys starting with kissing, then perhaps kissing with tongues and so on.

One would move on down the list with an arm over the shoulder which would then fall onto the girls breast and if it were not removed one progressed to the next step, that of fondling the breast from the outside of her blouse.

Slowly, slowly catchy monkey, the next step that of fondling the breast inside her blouse which of course after much fumbling and hopefully some assistance from the girl eventually meant the brassiere was released and access to the naked breasts was achieved. At this point I think there were many teenagers who must have started to believe that there actually was a God!

Fumbling slowly onward at this point I personally attempted the impossible and slowly slid my hand up the girls skirt where to my utter surprise was met by a pair of stockings which was unusual as by now virtually all girls had gone over to wearing the more modern tights.

I feel my story is coming across as a little impersonal as I keep referring to “the girl,” but the girl had a name which I cannot remember but I’m fairly certain was Jane, so will continue and refer to her as Jane.

As was the way in those days girls and boys were more tightly controlled than is the case today and I found out later that Jane wore the more old fashioned stockings as her mother thought it was more hygienic for her to get some air around her front bottom.

There was an old saying concerning girls and stocking tops which were referred to as giggle tops, the reason being if you got past the stocking tops you were laughing, suffice to say my courage ran out at the stocking tops.

I saw Jane on two or three other dates but our relationship was destined never to last, as I said her mother was very protective and to arrange a date required virtually filling in a number of forms in triplicate for her mother to give permission for the liaison.

It’s a shame as she was a very nice girl and we never progressed as far as having sex, for in those days that sort of thing had to wait until one had a motorcar and one could wait until it was dark and park up in the woods!

https://1950suburbanadventures.wordpress.com/2015/01/17/prince-un-charming/comment-page-1/#comment-2585

I had the pleasure of appearing on the wonderful Harry and Edna on the Wireless show and I’m rather hoping I can put the details here so you may enjoy their splendid radio show.

In this episode of Harry & Edna on the Wireless the vintage duo are joined by author Lord Joe Wells.

Plus they play tip top gramophone Tunes from the 1930s and 1940s.

So enjoy this hour with Harry & Edna on the Wireless as they take a look at the current British vintage scene.

Harry & Edna on the Wireless is available via FM and Internet radio, Mixcloud internet streaming, Spreaker downloadable podcast and via YouTube.