It would appear that of late, that I have suddenly grown a few inches, not only in circumference, but length wise too, something which has repeatedly become a problem when buying clothes lately.
All I want is a nice shirt that is long enough to tuck in my trousers and stay tucked in, a jumper/ hoodie thats long enough to cover my belly and a blazer I can fasten and when I lift my arms up, the sleeves don’t ride up to my elbows.
Today was a visit to a number of shops, with the purpose of buying a trendy blazer, trying on the largest size, was still 20 sizes toooooo small. I couldn’t even get my arms in let alone attempt to button it up. ” Have you tried Fat and Lanky round the corner, they cater for your shape. Or Jacamo the online shopping for larger sizes and tents”. Same items but they cut holes in for sleeves and charge you 3 times the price for the extra material and not trendy, unless shitty brown comes back into fashion.
I know shops have to cater for the majority, I know I see above most people’s heads, but your not all leprechauns. We are a generation of taller people now. At this rate, either I become a fashion designer and make my own clothes, or prey that bin liners come into fashion.
It would appear that of late, that I have suddenly grown a few inches, not only in circumference, but length wise too, something which has repeatedly become a problem when buying clothes lately.
This blog might be more of a whinge than a story but I have solutions to all the problems in the world. So I’ve decided to become president of the world and jotted down a manifesto to get your votes.
Any child who has to attend the supermarket must be handcuffed to the trolley at all times, thus preventing unsupervised monsters from running into you or in front of your trolley. Any parents who don’t bring their brats will also be given discount at the till. Failure to tie your kids will result in fines and possible random killings. Harsh and controversial but random killings will make people think that little bit harder.
As mentioned before, adults will only be allowed to use trolleys, but only once passing a driving test with multiple choice questions. Failure to comply and leave trolleys or abandon trolleys blocking the aisle will also result in fines and or random executions. Yes you’ve guessed, I’ve just done an Easter Saturday shop at Asda. Hell on earth.
I’m sitting here freezing cause Basil ( my cat), is cuddled up on my knee, which is such a rarity, that I don’t want to disturb him and turn on the heating. It’s made me think, Who’s in charge? Who’s the daft one?
As anyone who owns a cat will tell you, ” They are”. They whine to get exactly what they want and they know how exactly to manipulate you to get it. We are not owners, we are slaves. They whinge to you until you feed them, then decide whether to eat it or not. If there is still some in the bowl, even if just an hour old, you have to get rid of it and put fresh in. You can’t just ignore them as they won’t allow that to happen and shouting at them is futile, you usually find yourself having a rational conversation with them as to why they should stop whinging, but they just stare at you and finish with meow, which we all know means “NOW”.
whiskas have an advert at the moment, with a puma running through a garden, which changes as it goes through a cat flap, into a house cat. The slogan being, ” Because we know your little one still has the instinct of a wild cat”.
I watched it the first time with one lying upside down between my legs getting a belly rub, as the other one falls off the arm of the chair while licking his ruderies. Yeah, I can see the Lions of the Serengeti doing exactly that, whinging cause the Zebra for dinner isn’t in jelly ” And I asked for foil wrapped not tins…. Well I’m not eating that”.
Well Basil has jumped down, which gives me enough time to switch the heating on before the next Tiger demands attention.
The diet starts today and the killing will probably start tomorrow.
The decision was taken after seeing a picture of me on Facebook, lying back on a sofa, looking like a beached whale. Everyone waving their arms while I look like I have a slice of pizza aiming itself towards my mouth, with my belly taking up half the photo.
This is my apiffiny. In 18 months time Ill be on the cover of woman magazine after winning slimmer of the year, holding the picture in one hand and giant elasticated clown pants in the other.
My friends and I have decided to have a bet as to who can loose the most weight. Start of the bet was a determined fella, no one was going to beat. Day 1 and I am already to kill the person who beats me and all for £11 prize money.
Still there is more at stake. I’ve some how agreed to do the coast to coast in August. 75% of me is excited and pleased I’ve got a challenge to work too. The other 75% is like what the…….
I know the Math doesn’t add up but it’s exciting and crazy in exaggerated measures.
Well I’m off to lick a frozen chip in the hope of curing my overwhelming desire to eat cream cakes and one of the cats.
New year and new resolutions have been made and not a minute too soon.
I met my friend at Morrisons supermarket and after finishing a cuppa tea, made our way outside. But then in panic, I saw a young woman, transfixed solely on me and without hesitation , ploughed her way through the crowd, knocking people over who stood in her way. Before I could run away, the woman caught up to me and presented to me…. “Are you looking for a personal trainer.” Now I know what your thinking, she looked at me and thought, he looks like a fella who likes to keep fit and might want a personal trainer to push himself on…. Not, now theres a fatty who needs my help before he explodes.
Now I didn’t take her up on it, I just thanked her and declined her offer while trying to use my magic powers and scowl a killing ray to make her head explode with my eyes. But I think I should have taken her up on the offer. I tried to get the two pieces of cloth together and pulled for a good 5 mins till I uncomfortably achieved my goal… Except it was a towel I wanted to wrap round me, not my trousers. Strangely a few people have told me I have lost weight and these are people I haven’t seen in a while. I posed this to my friend who said ” well you were rounder in the face at one point.” ” So not now?” ” Well no, not so much.” shame, she was a good friend. So today starts a new me, 6 pack for my keg belly, swimming and rambling back on the agenda. Who needs a personal trainer… However, if you see her in Morrisons, take a leaflet for me, just in case.
One of the reasons for doing this blog is I have one of the worst memories in history. Faces from years ago, I can recall the fact I have seen them before, ask me to put a name to them or how I know them and you could come back to me 2 days later and I’d be slumped over the table saying
“ No idea, I haven’t a clue.”
“Oh what’s that Greek God called you know, thingy, oh man I think it starts with an A
“Aphrodite…. Apollo….Ares…. Artemis…. Athena?”
“ He was King of the Gods,”
“ You mean Zeus”
“ That’s him, that’s the fella.”
I have been known to make grown people cry, trying to have a conversation about an event, with place names, peoples names, businesses and car names in the same subject.
My cousin, who can tell you what you were wearing on a given day 20 years ago, would laugh at me as, people would stop and talk to me and I wouldn’t introduce them.“ You can’t remember their names can you,”
“ No idea. Don’t know how I know them.”
It can make the pub quiz I attend every week frustrating for me, as well as my team mates as I often, know the answer, but can’t remember it and end up saying,
“ Oh you know man, he did that thing in the 80s and was married to her out of the band you know.”
Then would have to go through the alphabet, hoping hitting the letter would trigger a moment of brilliance, which very rarely happens.
I’m thinking of having idiot cards round my neck with peoples names and a picture next to them, with a job title next to it, or a biography of how I know them. The same with street names and area localities, with a picture of a famous landmark, but as I get older and presume my memory gets worse, I will probably end up with an encyclopaedia round my neck , weighing me down with the front cover picture of me and ‘ My name is Richard.’
To tell you all my embarrassing stories would require me to write an encyclopaedia of mishaps and funny situation…oh now there’s an idea…. But here’s one or two sketches for now.
Working for Pizza Hut I became a trainer for the North East, helping to open a number of restaurants. I moved to one restaurant where I was to be based and helped to train up the staff and generally look after them and became very proud when within a year, my restaurant made it into the final of the Northern regions best restaurant competition. The final was to take place in a huge Night club that was purely for Pizza Hut. Two staff, One girl Deborah, front of house and Paul, back of house where representing Gateshead Pizza Hut restaurant. The competition was going well, who could make up 20 boxes the quickest, clear tables, make pizzas. Then all of a sudden, Deborah comes running into the crowd, “I NEED A PAIR OF TROUSERS, I NEED A PAIR QUICK”. There was no time to think about it, my team needed me and without thinking whipped my trousers off held them proudly aloft, “ TAKE THESE”. As no one else took there’s off, we surely must have gained those bonus points of collecting items of clothing..
Except it wasn’t for the competition, Deborah just realised her skirt was to long to run in and put my trousers on to continue the rest of the 3 hour competition. Now on its own it seems ok, some saw what happened, but of course 400+ people more interested in partying, didn’t. Those people who knew me just went, “Hello Richard, is it worth asking?”or “ No trousers again I see?” Its hard to keep your dignity in Y fronts I find.
It was probably 3-4 years before strangers would stop stopping me in restaurant visits and look quizzically at me and comment, “ Aren’t you from the competition who went round in just his underpants?”
My good friend Laura, who is strawberry blonde wavy hair, drove a red Ka, lived close to me and has good eyesight. I tell you this as when I saw Laura driving to work every day, with her strawberry blonde wavy hair, driving her red Ka past my house, I would wave to her, but seemed to be getting no response. For a week I would wave, making it more obvious every day to the point I was almost throwing myself in front of the Ka, shouting, but just watching this strawberry blonde, wavy haired girl, concentrating intensely on driving her little red Ka as quickly as possible past me.
Enough was enough, how rude I thought, my best friend, ignoring me, I mean it wasn’t hard, everyone watching me waving frantically everyday could see me, why not her.
When I caught up with My friend I told her how rude she was, driving past me and not waving back… “ Cant be me, I work in the opposite direction, I don’t go past your house. “ WHAT????”
It was true when seeing the little red Ka come towards me the next day, I noticed this frightened looking lass with strawberry blonde wavy hair, trying not to notice me, looking like Laura, but not quite. Needless to say I stopped jumping in front of the car and waving frantically at her, shouting abuse at her. Poor thing probably never got over seeing me in the street.
Some things are more important than others in life and I had to learn this the hard way.Some things that are have always been close and important are my friends and family who have stood by me through thick and thin.
Im the 4th sibling in the family, Jean and Bob are the older of the siblings…I wont give ages as my sister will beat me, taking years off me till I’m the same age as them. David is the 3rd in line and is 9 years older, then me.
My father died when I was 5 and sadly dont have many memories of him. My father was a great man and would well into my teens, be reminded by people I didnt or barely know, who would stop me in the street, enquire if I was John Lavericks son and everyone would always have a wonderful, positive thing to say with examples why they thought my father was a great man.
One memory which has always stuck with me was sitting round the kitchen table with him. He would make me cornflakes with warm milk and…well thats all I remember. Or sitting in bed with him on a saturday when he was then very ill with cancer, watching wrestling together. I was’nt into wrestling, but for me it was just being with him. And my other memory was running home from school to go straight upstairs to find my father wasnt there. Delighted I ran downstairs thinking he was up, only to find all the family looking upset, then my mum taking me upstairs to tell me what had happened.
My mum had me late in life “ A pleasant surprise,” as she put it. Bringing up 2 kids on a widows pension was hard for her, but we never went without anything and we had a happy childhood. Mum was a good cook and Friday was broth night. Coming home from school, mum would sit with a big bowl in front of her, peeling all the veg, cutting pieces of Swede, carrot and potato off and giving me a piece of each as that was the best bit. Cooked wasn’t the same.
My sister Jean and brother Bob had left home by this point leaving David and I at home with my mother. We were good kids but of course fought like brothers do. My brother called me midge as obviousley I was smaller than him, or at least was till 14, but the name has stuck since then. Being young I was probabley a pain to my brother but he did give me electric shocks till I made him a cup of tea. Well he used to stick his fingers in my ribs which was like being electricuted, till i agreed to make it.
My brother Bob became more of a father figure to me, I looked up to him, still do, giving me guidance throughout my life. I remember him sitting David and I down and telling us if he ever saw us smoking a cigarette or adorned with a tattoo, he would bray the living daylights out of us. Neither of us smoke and neither of us got a tattoo…… I’m a terrible alcoholic, cocaine junky, but that wasn’t in the rules….I’m only joking, Ive never tried drugs…I would make a useless celebrity.
Probably to give mum a weekend off, I would often stay with my Sis or brother. It was my brother who taught me how to cook, Bolognese, stews, casseroles. I wonder if I can blame him for my enlarging belly. I would discuss books with my sister in law and we would go for a long walk somewhere nice for the day. On returning, I would go through my brothers record collection which more often than not meant I put Jon and Vangelis, Friends of Mr Cairo album on.
We still laugh about this, but my sister had the best house in the world. Next to the sea you could hear Souter lighthouse not far away, an old fasioned high sided metal bath and a black and white portable tv, which meant I could watch tv in bed. I loved telling people, Unfortunatly, “ My sister has a tin bath and black and white tv,” sounds like she was on hard times when I told it. Devestated when they sold that house.
My brother in law was a captain on a ship. Exciting times for me as he got me a large map to put on my wall. Every time he went into port, I would get a card from the country and I would put a pin in the map with a piece of string, to show where he had been. I would get presents from parts of the world he had visited, my favourite being an electronic game where you had to mend pipes where the rats had coroded the pipes by….Peeing on them. Amusing to me, but greeted by mum with a glare and a tut.
But we are all grown up now and still very close. My brothers and sisters all have children…Kieran if your Dad gave you electric shocks to make you do things, its not too late to ring Social Services….Worrying thing, he is social services.
I have been reporting on the weird things that have happened to me, but have also been reading some weird and most definitely not wonderful stories that have been happening to others. I say not wonderful but in part, the stories are sooo ridiculous, you have to laugh, even though they also make you mad, or is that just me?…For example.
The ambulance driver in Scotland who received a speeding fine for rushing a much needed donor organ to a critically ill patient, waiting to be operated on…. Your thinking, well its just a mistake and will be waivered, but oh no, the fine stands and all ambulance drivers have to slow down to speed limit in this part of Scotland where there are speed cameras. The E.U which is thinking of banning stocking fillers as items MIGHT cause problems for kids. The child asked to take down his pirate flag in his garden as this could be seen to be promoting the practice of pirating DVDs and music. And not forgetting the mother and toddlers coffee morning, who banned hot drinks in fear of spillages even with cups with lids.
But this is why I think we need ‘ The sensible police’. An organisation, like the court of human rights, who look at individual cases like the above and overrule on idiotic bureaucratic decisions that are viewed as a total farce. Oh yes, I am ready to give up my job to take on this role. If we don’t act now, where will we be in 50 years time.
If there are any proposals going through the system and you would like to consider me for the role, to help you decide if I am fit for the role, I would:-
● Put a picture of all those who voted to fine the ambulance driver in all offices and ambulances within the NHS. See how long it takes them to get to hospital with a burst appendix.
● Ban Christmas for all E.U members who vote for banning stockings at Christmas.
● Tar and feather the decision maker who made a child take down the flag AND make him walk the plank…off a cliff.
● Make the councillors in charge of the decision to ban hot beverages at a coffee morning, to 5 years hard labour, looking after triplets aged 2 -7, without the aid of tablets or caffeine based stimulants…..or alcohol.
References on request.
Every year my mum and I would do our yearly pilgrim trip to Lincolnshire to visit my Aunties and Uncle. A time in my life I remember with fondness and love.
There was something special about Burton upon Stather that I can’t put my finger on, whether it was being in the country, the stepping back in time or being with my Uncle and Aunts, the combination of all three was magical.
The journey would start with the bus ride there. The trip which today would be done in a couple of hours was a 6-8 hour journey, back in the 70s. I would have my little carrier bag full of goodies for the journey, book, colouring in, game and mum would have the boiled sweets in her bag which she would dish out on a regular basis, boiled fruit squares. We would travel into Scunthorpe then catch a second bus which would take us to the street….and there it was, the giant Monkey puzzle tree, which meant we had arrived.
My family lived in a time warp, the only modern gadget then was the telly, which very rarely went on, more for me then anyone else, even the doors were from the 50s with 60s style handles that were the ball socket type, so you just opened and pulled on the door, even the noise of the springed pop as the door opened makes me smile today.
As soon as we were greeted, we were rewarded for our journey with ham salad and lashings of buttered bread. Unlimited supply of tea which was always served in china cups, no mugs in this house. Unlimited supply of cakes and biscuits for after, oh yes I was well looked after.
My Aunts and Uncle never married and for there whole life, lived in the same house they were born in. Auntie Mons ( named after the battle of Mons) was in charge of the household. Auntie Vi, very quiet but very funny and Uncle Matt, a quiet unassuming man, who could usually be found potting about in the garden. I would visit him in his Greenhouse where he would be potting on plants and asking me if I was married yet or did I have a job.
The small village was set around beautiful country, sandy soil which was a haven for the moles which lived in the area and the bug bare to my uncle Matt. You could often see him in the morning, filling in Bashing down the holes from where moles had been poking their heads through. Being next to Normanby Hall, you would often be awoken by Peacocks in the garden and at night you could go outside to watch bats flying just over head.
The walk into the little village which consisted of one street, was a delight, as it meant I would stop at the little toy shop, which was an Aladdins cave of toys and gifts, Kites, jigsaws, model kits, jacks, games. It was this visit which would set me up for the rest of the week and what a quick week it would be.