I have spent the past few days sorting out old photographs and boy oh boy have I found some shockers. The 1980’s certainly had a lot to answer for where fashion (or a distinct lack of) was concerned. High waisted jeans, flowery shirts, huge sunglasses, chunky bangles................exactly what is currently available in today’s High Street. Dear God, please spare us the shame of looking like we did back then. My photographic sorting project commenced about three years ago over the Christmas break, but the volume of albums and boxes to go through coupled with the lack of free time I seem to have has made this into a rather lengthy exercise. Hopefully by the time I retire it will all be sorted, categorised and scanned for posterity.
My Mum’s new hip is a bit nearer as she has an appointment with the consultant in a couple of weeks to arrange a date for her holiday in hospital. Those of you who know her will be familiar with her hobby of hospital stays (I believe the RVI in Newcastle has a blue plaque on the entrance wall with her name on it), but this time it is a private hospital that carries out the overspill of NHS cases to get the waiting lists down. Whilst I am pleased she will soon be sorted and out running marathons again (ha ha ha ha............as if...........) I will feel somewhat redundant when we are out as she will no longer need me to help her along the street with a firm grip of her arm and loudly announcing “Come along dear, we need to get you back to the home for teatime”. Apparently this is totally unappreciated and I did again yesterday fall foul of her handbag when I was struck upon my back with it.
A weekend shopping trip to a large retail warehouse resulted in my Dad vanishing into the local supermarket the following day with his till receipt to compare the prices. This is not a new activity for him, oh no! Three times a week he can be found in a neighbouring town doing exactly the same exercise (particularly on commodities such as batteries and tins of soup) and is often to be heard directing shoppers elsewhere to get a bargain. So far he has not been ejected and banned from any of the shops but I guess it is only a matter of time.
In the ten minutes I have been sitting here typing, no less than three charity bags have dropped through the door. Looks like I don’t need to buy bin bags this week then, what a good saving.
Almost into a new month and already I am yelling at the ignoramuses on various radio stations who will insist on calling the month “Febree” or “Feburee”. We are in England and the correct pronunciation is Feb-ru-ary. Have you got it? Thank you.
Last week I received the sad news that the Chairman of a company I worked at for 15 years has passed away. Out of all the ‘big bosses’ I have come across he was by far the most down to earth and normal chap, he led the company to huge success both within the UK and in overseas ventures. Unfortunately, once he left the whole organisation fell into decline and administrators were appointed. His funeral service details are yet to be confirmed as the vicar is abroad (whether carrying out missionary work or sunning himself on the beach I am not sure), but I expect it will be a good turn out and give the chance to catch up with people again. One lasting incident surrounding the big man occurred many years ago. He always had a bowl of fruit in his office which his PA needed to rinse before he ate it. I met this lady in the loos one morning as she was busy at the sink. As she saw me, she carried on dangling her cigarette end over the fruit and announced “I’m washing Derek’s plums..............!” Still makes me giggle out loud today. Rest in peace Mr H, if only more bosses of industry had your vision the country would not be in the state it is today.
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