An Ode to a Milkmaid's Deliverer

Last week I travelled back to my old Family home in a quaint little village in the heart of rural Leicestershire. During my visit I bumped into an old friend of the family; "Nev".

After exchanging pleasantries as you do when you haven't seen someone for a good number of years, Nev proceeded to remind me about a note my late Father had once written to him.

Where's the story, I hear you ask. Well first a little background is in order and we'll start with Nev himself. I have known Nev for pretty much all of my life (discounting the baby years where memories are hazy to say the least) as have many of the residents and former residents of Gilmorton. This is because, back when I was a small boy, Nev, was the village Milkman. This was back in the day when milk was delivered to your doorstep in the early hours of the morning by a cheerful fellow wearing an apron and driving an electric milk float. The common practice during this golden era, was to leave a hastily scrawled note, wedged into an empty glass milk bottle, advising the jolly Milkman of the quantity of milk you required. Admittedly there were some more affluent types who had milk bottle holders with a small numbered dial to indicate this preference but alas we were not one of those types.

Anyway, to set the scene...My Mum was in hospital (giving birth to me no less) and my Dad left the customary note for the milkman aka Nev. But this was no normal note, after all Nev has kept said note in his possession for 33 years. So after all these years I am delighted to bring to you my Dad's "note to the milkman"

An Ode to a Milkmaid's Deliverer

For 3 days now my wife has lain
In hospital because of pain
And I, without a single moan
Do find myself, alas, alone

Each day before a golden dawn
I hear you walk across my lawn
And then do see out at my door
A beverage from the days of yore

Useful though I find this milk
And do regard it's taste like silk
I do believe my bowels, as such
Are bored by having just too much

On Saturday I filled fridge door
On Sunday stacked it on the floor
Alas on Monday, at the brink
I had to fill the kitchen sink

When Tuesday came, cat died in bed
Upon the milk it was o'er fed
How can I stop this endless flow
For Wednesday dealt another blow

By now I had so much, you see
I had a call from the M.M.B
They simply had to ask me how
I managed to out-milk the cow

Now Thursday comes and I do see
When having had a simple P___
I give the mighty chain a pull
And find the bleedin' cistern full

Now Neville, dear, I have to ask
Though, in this milk, I love to bask
I feel I really have to say-
Thanks, but PLEASE NO BLOODY MILK TODAY!


This just goes to show what a wonderful character my Dad was as well as demonstrating the difference he made to the lives of others. How many former milkman can say they have a note in their possession that someone left for them over 30 years ago?



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

How to end world hunger, the Head and Shoulders method

The other night I was soaking in the tub, my mind wandering as it tends to do in its idle state, when I noticed a bottle of shampoo perched on the side of the bath. According to the large, bold letters on the front, 40 zingy limes had been squeezed into this one bottle of shampoo. Now this got me thinking as my eyes scanned the bathroom noting the plethora of products boasting natural ingredients. What if we were to place a worldwide ban on the use of foodstuffs in non-edible products? Those 40 limes could be used to feed those people suffering famine. I'm sure my hair will remain soft and shiny even without a pungent lime odour. Now I'm not pretending to know all of the ins and outs of the cosmetics industry, nor am I an expert on world hunger, but surely 40 limes would do a lot more good on someone's plate than in one single bottle of shampoo on the side of my bath. So would a worldwide ban really make a difference? I would like to think that it would and I would be more than happy for my hair to be treated with something which hadn't taken a perfectly edible foodstuff off of someone's dinner plate.

Hot Fuzz Stars in Mysterious Disappearance

In news that will shock the nation it appears that some of our celebrities are missing. Contrary to popular movie legend they have not been kidnapped by women of a mature age but are feared to have become the latest victims of a notorious Succubus called Miriam. The story first broke upon the discovery of an open loft hatch in the early hours of Monday morning at the residence of a Mr Simon Pegg (renowned actor and eater of 2 mini babybels in a row). It was his close friend and confidant Mr Nicholas Frost (renowned actor and former waiter) who first unearthed the truth of the loft dwelling fiend although how he came by such information is unknown.

What is known is that Mr Pegg was awoken this morning by his alarmed canine companion following a disturbance in the loft. Gathering all of his courage (which took some time) Mr Pegg ventured into the loft to confront this foul beast. Alas no-one has heard of him since. His last known words were broadcast to the world by popular celebrity stalking website Twitter: "Okay, I'm going to see what the hell's going on. Back in five with a full report. Wish me luck."

Troubling words I'm sure you'll agree. As the minutes ticked by friends and fans alike became more and more anxious. Mr Frost (as closest friend to the feared to be deceased) took it upon himself to investigate. Upon arrival at the Pegg residence a slightly nervous Frost commented that the front door was open and a strange sense of coldness filled the air. Once more Twitter fell silent as another victim appears to have been claimed by the merciless Miriam.

The online world holds its breath, awaiting news of the fate of these two heroes. I however will be starting a campaign to get those "celebrities" the world can do without to go and investigate the whereabouts of Miriam the Merciless in the hope that they too may be claimed by this foul wench. Perhaps we may even offer them as a human sacrifice and save our intrepid heroes. Now what was Jordan's e-mail address........

Sofas, the Black Holes of the Furniture World

We are all aware of the mysterious, black hole like qualities of the common household sofa but their true demonic nature has until today been limited to the consumption of loose change and remote controls. I received today my new furniture which meant out with the old and in with the new. As I tipped the behemoth on its side to facilitate its transport from the lounge to the kitchen I heard the sound of coinage tumbling in its insides. Now I am not known as being a tight man with my money but I thought that this currency was once my own and had been secretly taken from me by the evil sofa. Knife in hand I cut the bottom of the sofa to reveal its inner chambers. This is what I found...


1 pop bottle, 2 combs, 3 necklaces, 1 flag stick, 35 sweet packets, 2 used tissues, 14 pencil crayons, 7 dummies, 1 dolls shoe, 8 ice pole wrappers, 17 crisp packets, 4 toy cars, 1 bouncy ball, 3 balls, 9 hair grips, 1 compact mirror, 1 toy chicken, 1 Barbie swing chair,1 frubes wrapper, 7 teaspoons, 1 bugs bunny sound fx paw, 6 pens, 2 lighters, 1 lip balm, 1 party blower, 29 hair bobbles, 1 toy motorbike, 4 ice lolly sticks, 1 aa battery, 1 9v battery, 1 bottle top, 2 bracelets, 1 sock, 1 sheet of A4 paper, 1 wooden train track, 1 gameboy game cartridge, 1 toy saxophone, 2 pairs of tweezers, 1 earring, 1 wax crayon, 2 toy parts, 1 paint brush, 1 fridge magnet, 1 mobile phone stylus, 2 DS stylus's, 1 piece of toy food (a cucumber i think), 1 spare Christmas tree light bulb, 2 felt tip pen lids, 1 rubber lizard, £2.08p in loose change, 1 colouring in picture of Guy Fawkes, 1 clothes peg, 1 used cotton bud,1 purse containing £1.55 in coppers and an In The Night Garden Crayola Activity Mat. AND NOT A SINGLE REMOTE CONTROL!!


So the next time you lose your remote control and all around you people are kindly telling you to look down the back of you sofa, ignore them for they know not the truth of this foul beast. However if you have lost your toy chicken or are in need of a used tissue, you know exactly where to go.

Knowledge Management

It was an office like any other, motivational posters adorned it’s generically bland wallpaper, dotted here and there corporate jargon boasted about achievements whilst still managing to convey a sense of urgency to do more. Chairs of varying design yet all bound by the common fact that in some way or another they were all malfunctioning in one small yet incredibly annoying manner. The unwary backside their coveted prey poised to catapult an unsuspecting victim to the floor in an embarrassing heap. Desks arranged in territorial patterns across the room allowing the disassociation of others whilst integrating the accepted . Sleeping computer monitors populating each space at varying heights dependant upon the requirements of their masters. The lights flicker to life as our hero began walking towards his usual seat, the sun still sleeping at this early hour his sunrise today would be a fluorescent one. After retrieving his uniformly bland box, decorated in a way as to tell others that despite all appearances and the simple fact that he is indeed working here still after all these years, he’s really a fun zany person. He carefully places his backside on his chair in a manner known only to him to prevent the unfortunate ejection he would otherwise have suffered and begins his day as he has done for the last 6 years “CTRL + ALT + DEL”

The monitor bursts to life and poses that never ending question, “User Name” and “Password”. As he carefully swings his legs onto his desk, placing the keyboard upon his lap in a laid back Jumping Jack Flash homage he reaches into his unlocked box and retrieves his book of passwords, peruses it for a moment before his fingers quickly glide over the keyboard. He then takes the tools of his trade from his bland box, a pen that has seen more enamel than paper , a pad of paper that has seen more doodles than work and a headset that can only be described as worn-in. As he begins to bring to life a vast array of applications on his monitor, pausing briefly each time to remind himself of the most current password for each, his mind begins to wander as it has done increasingly these past few months. For our hero is a troubled person of late, certain events have been given more thought than that which is normally deemed safe and as a result have began to play heavily on his mind. For the last 6 years Frank has been working in a call centre for one of the largest banks in the country and up until recently that’s about as exciting as it got for Frank. But a recent promotion changed all that.

He was now a Manager of Knowledge, and not just the Knowledge of his co-workers here in the bank but that of the world. He had always been a small cog in a very large machine, now he was a small cog in a very large machine indeed.

American Invasion Part 2

With the dawn of a new day came the simple thought of "What the hell do I do now?". The temperature was slowly hotting up and after an inner tussle I decided that despite the warm temperatures outside and the prospect of little more than entertaining myself that day, 9am was a little too early to start drinking, so, breakfast it was.

I also needed to do a bit of shopping as the cupboards were a little vacant. I managed to skate (yes, I said "skate", I happen to own a rather nice pair of in-lines if you must know. Although stopping skating is still a lottery to this day) to a local supermarket and purchase the essentials: Beer, tea bags, biscuits and beer.

Breakfast came and went without any of the major bombshells I had come to expect since my arrival and after a game of pool, I had a bit of a swim. Time past and I found myself thinking that the rest of my holiday was going to be like this, filled with hot days by the pool, drinking beer and listening to some top tunes. It sounds like hell I know but then Ashley came along to brighten my days.

Studying at ASU, Ashley kindly took pity on this poor Englishman and became his guide and guardian for the duration of my visit and promptly invited me over to her digs. Somehow I managed to find the place and after walking through the front door I got my first experience of University life in America. I was soon surrounded by young American ladies all wanting to know who this young English gent was.

It is important, at this point, to try to dispel some of the myths that surround American Sororities. Unfortunately, from my own personal experience they are pretty much spot on but with less pillow fights and a little more clothing.

I spent a few days with Ashley and her pals and I was beginning to feel welcome and optimistic of what the rest of my holiday had in store for me. My timing couldn't have been better, as towards the end of my stay there was to be...a gathering.

The harsh Arizona desert was to be the venue of the Barn Dance of the century and I was the only Brit invited. For those of you that are thinking that this was a bad thing, you're wrong in your assumptions and you should be punished. It was going to be a night filled with good music, good food, isolation and booze. Oh and there were going to be one or two female student types there as well.

Now it appears to be a tradition in America that for such communal events it is important for a lady to have a date for the evening. This doesn't mean there have to be any romantic ties to your date and for this reason Ashley asked me to play the role of her date for the forthcoming dance. I duly accepted her offer but a few days later was given the news that had been asked to go by a lad whom she had had her eye on for sometime. Now I wasn't going to stand in the way of her romantical escapades so I graciously accepted her offer to go instead with her roommate, who happened to be a tall, blonde dancer.

Oh how life shits on me. For I was soon to discover that she also, had been asked to go by her respective love interest.

So there I was, dateless. But hang on, what's this? All is not lost, there is still hope, there is a light at the end of this darkened tunnel...

There is "The New Girl"...

...To be continued

Just getting started

Well here it is, my first Blog. No doubt you are finding that this is a similar opening to everyone else's first blog but I thought it prudent to lure you all in with a relatively normal first post.

So where do I start? Do I bore you with a quick summary of who I am and what I do?

Me thinks not. Maybe I'll save that for some other time when I am running short on inspiration. For now I'll just introduce my next few entries which I have already posted on some social networking sites. I hope you enjoy them as much as I have enjoyed writing them.