Cast away those scales & shout freedom

This morning just after the 08:00 hrs newspaper delivery, church bells started ringing from around the surrounding villages, some thing was afoot, though what, I knew not! DownloadedFile-1I had the world service news on the radio, and nothing of significance justified the peel of bells in such a way.

I went online, and checked to see if the European Union had crashed and burned over night, not that; I checked to see if Socialism had ceased, not that: I checked to see if there had been a long lost Victorian recipe discovered for the pork pie, not that: had the farm shop dropped the price of its prime back bacon, not that; had Justin Beiber been grounded until he was 21, sadly not that either! Oh Bugger…
The Battle of Stamford Bridge, September 25th, 1066

I was left puzzled and dumbfounded… The last time the bells rung in unison throughout the land, was when the Nazis surrendered in 1945. Prior to that was when the Vikings attacked Stamford Bridge in 1066, which is some fifteen miles away! Having walked the dogs through the fields of the echoing countryside, I then drove the short distance to my local bakers for a fresh loaf. The queue was out of the door, house wives were stripping the shelves of anything edible, the sticky iced buns and savoury section was a vision of absolute jam & Jerusalem carnage; I was lucky to get my hands on a crusty Bloomer, and then make good my escape, intact! fs364 

As I made my way back to the car there were groups of Yorkshire woman huddled together laughing, some hysterically? Throughout the short return trip I listened to the BBC news, perhaps there was a public service announcement that would explain it all; nothing?  Back in the safety and sanctuary of my humble abode, I bolted and locked the doors, then settled down to a crispy bacon sandwich, a fresh pot of tea, and a hasty peruse of the Times, and the Daily Mail, newspapers. The answer to the mornings insanity was now laid out in front of me ‘Counting calories is ‘virtually meaningless’, the penny suddenly dropped, and tinkled onto my Yorkshire stone floor. DownloadedFile

Real liberty and freedom had suddenly past forth, nothing on this scale has happened since 1928: When women received the vote on the same terms as men (over the age of 21).

Aye if you agree… AYE!

Yours Aye (I have since sandbagged the windows around my abode, awaiting the flak that is certainly due) ;-)

The Bee Gees and Staying Alive

Vinnie Jones_300x293The British Heart Foundation ‘pumped’ out a TV advert last year that featured Vinnie Jones, playing the part of a gangster; who demonstrates a CPR procedure that assists some one who has stopped breathing through a heart attack “we need a body~ and here’s one I made earlier“! A humorous clip, which has had startling results since it was shown on main line TV. Vinnie Jones’ hard and fast Hands-only CPR (funny short film) (full .. .Sharon Thorneywork a 42 year old mother of three children, witnessed Terrence Holly a 72 year old, collapse to the floor suffering a massive heart attack.Terry Holly, Sharon Thorneycroft Her action saved his life, which was all due to the British Heart Foundation, the Bee Gees, and Vinnie Jones cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR). Mother-of-three saves grandfather’s life by singing ‘Stayin’ Alive’ while giving him CPR on a bus Hands only, you only kiss the missus on the lips.” No problem Vinnie mate, anything you say…

Yours Aye.
 

The FBI vs. the BFI

When I was young, much younger, say six years old, I used to be mesmerized by the traffic I saw out my car window.  Cars, trucks, you name it.  A waste company worked in my neighborhood called BFI and they picked up the trash.  They are all but gone now.  Then, their blue trucks puttered around emblazoned with the company logo.

It was about this time that I heard of the FBI, the G-men, from a TV show.

I recall, at that young age, one of BFI’s trucks on the street, passing us.  I stared at the garbage vehicle and wondered: Sheesh, can’t the FBI get a more inconspicuous vehicle?  I am like six, and I can spot ‘em a mile off. . .

Saving Gas

My neighborhood is haunted by a silver Prius.  Recently, I followed a stream of cars chugging along at 4 mph towards a red-light fifty feet away. The head car of our little caravan was the aforementioned Prius.  The driver was coasting to the light, no doubt giddy over all the gas she was saving.  But for us behind her, we had to brake suddenly to get in her line.  Any gas she saved, all the cars behind her surely lost.  (Don’t get me started on her driving performance at the same light this weekend. . .)