"Wake up this morning..............."

Listening to the radio on the way to work this morning and that old classic The Israelites by Desmond Dekker came on.

Can anybody tell me what the hell he is singing about?

"Environmental Agency employee saved from certain drowning"

Whilst watching my regional TV news show tonight, I was interested in an article they were showing concerning improving the flow of the river Dour situated in Dover.

A representative of the Environment Agency was at hand to answer the reporters questions.

Get this. The man was standing in a foot of water, yes a foot (as were all his colleagues that were working on the project)with a bloody lifejacket on.

I could not belieeeeeeve it.

A perfect example of Health and Safety gone bonkers.

See blog title.

A summers morn

I took this picture at five thirty a.m. last week whilst taking Barney for his morning constitutional in our local wood.

It sums up everything I love about summer on this sceptred isle.

Good, isn't it?

Birds Eye had better watch its back

And Fray Bentos will no doubt be trembling in their boots after glimpsing the fruits of my labours.
Two pea seeds in a couple of feet of soil produced all these babies.
Could I have found my true purpose in life? To be a pea mogul is surely my destiny.
"Whatever next", I hear you cry?
Tomatoes, onions or maybe even broad beans?


The world is my oyster.

No one can stop me now.

Today peas, tomorrow the world. HA HA HAAAAAAAA.

I think I had better go and lie down for a while

Poetic justice

I just had to bring to everyone's attention Patrick Barclays article in today's Sunday Telegraph involving a Portuguese journalist at the England v Portugal match.

Although my friend [said journalist] has media accreditation,he had bought tickets for the England-Portugal match so he and his son could sit together in their national colours. They were on the edge of a Portuguese section, overlooked by a dozen Englishmen behaving loutishly. For an hour the swearing and insults were tedious more than anything else, but then Rooney was dispatched and the louts' mood worsened. Suddenly the Portuguese were showered with beer until one of their number, who had noticed an Englishman copiously urinating into a plastic pint-pot moments earlier, warned them not to touch it.

At this point my friend ran out of patience. He asked a steward for help and shortly a female police officer arrived. Once the culprit had been identified, the officer approached him, pointed under his seat to his pint-pot, in which about a third of the amber liquid remained, and asked him what it contained. "Beer," he said. She told him to drink it. He protested that he had done nothing wrong and, reaching for the injured innocence that is the first refuge of such scoundrels, swore that the offence to which she was no doubt referring had been committed by a stranger who had just scarpered.

"Just drink your beer," she said "or you'll be leaving the match with me." He could see that she meant it and, grimacing, downed the stuff in one before stalking off to escape further humiliation.

What a star that police officer was. How I would have loved to have seen the face of the perpretator of that disgusting act. Mind you, given the performance of our boys in the tournament, I don't think I would be tempted to drink my own piss just to stay and watch the game. That IS taking the piss, that is.

Could you envisage one of our boys in blue performing the same actions? In this PC state we now live in. I think not.

I believe Germany did a superb job at what must arguably be the best staged World Cup we have currently witnessed. Must rush out and get some sauerkraut and bratwurst for me tea in honour of a job well done.

Discovering a little gem

On returning home from Barneys walk earlier in the week, Mrs.K excitedly dragged me outside for a little surprise. No, not that sort of surprise.

She had heard a loud thud against our lounge window and on inspection outside, discovered a tiny little bird which had obviously just tried to fly through it. Probably being chased by our resident kestrel that patrols this area.

To my utter joy, it was a fledgling Goldcrest. This is a rare sight indeed around these parts. I have seen the occasional one in the trees that were behind us, but never in my wildest dreams did I think that I would get up close and personal with a little treasure.

Many people wrongly believe that our 'Jenny Wren' is Britain's smallest bird. The Goldcrest, closely followed by its much rarer cousin the Firecrest, has this honour.

The little blighter was obviously stunned, so we procured the standard shoe box with a small piece of cloth and place it in there to give it time to recover. The dark always calms birds down.

"Give it half an hour and we will see how it is" I expertly cried.

Armed with camera thirty minutes later we opened the box to find - nothing. A hole of around half inch diameter was sufficiently big enough to allow him to escape, obviously fully recovered.

It all happens down here in Kent you know.

A true hot dog

This was Barneys solution to cooling down after his morning squirrel chase in the woods.



Can't say that the fish were too impressed though.

HMS Dido sails once more

Over the last year or so, an old shipmate of mine from my first ship (see above) has been attempting to track down as many of our messmates for a reunion. Now what started as a possible meet somewhere in the middle of this sceptred isle for a few bevvies and sea stories, snowballed into a full blown bash with formal dinner and cabaret et al.

During the second world war, those fine citizens of Bolton scraped together enough dosh to build the light cruiser of the same name which fought in WW2. Subsequently, when the Leander class frigate was built in '63, the town took us under their wing and basically adopted the ship.

1971 was the year I joined what was to be the best ship I served on. Great bunch of lads and the officers weren't bad either. In '73 we visited Bolton via Bootle docks and the local populace welcomed us with open arms, especially the ladies of the town. There were a few broken hearts and several friendships were formed. We were given the freedom of the borough, which entitled us to march through the streets with bayonets fixed. Stirring stuff eh? A dance was laid on at the Palais where the girls outnumbered all of us sex starved matelots. Boy, did we have fun that night.

I digress. So a reunion was planned at Bolton last weekend. It was great to once more 'swing the lamp' with some of my old oppo's. We even managed to track down our old skipper and first lieutenant. Accomodation was provided at the Holiday Inn. What a rip off. Here was I thinking that by going oop north, that the ale would be cheaper. £3.5p a bloody pint!!!! As we were captive customers within the hotel, you didn't have a choice to go to the nearest boozer. Note for next reunion....

A reception and tour of the town hall was arranged followed by a dinner and entertainment by an old blast from the past, Shep Wooley. He was a serving sailor in the seventies and gained quite a reputation as a singer/comedian around all the local pubs in Pompey at the time. All the old favourites were blasted out and great fun was had by all. A special mention to Bolton council who did a splendid job in organising everything and ensuring the whole weekend ran like clockwork - well almost.

We formed an official HMS Dido Association and hopefully we will manage to contact some more shipmates for next years do which is taking place in Pompey (Portsmouth). A bit closer to home for us down south.

So, if anyone out there knows of any ex-shipmates of either of the HMS Dido's, get them to log on to our website.