Saturday, April 07, 2007

80s Night

Might go down to Broadstairs Pav tomorrow night. They're doing another of those 80s nights for the over 21s.

I suppose it's too much to hope that one day they might put on a 21s night for the over 80s.

Saturday, March 31, 2007

Nice Young Man

This Rhino electric scooter is turning out to be a real babe magnet. Charging through the forecourt to the Costcutter yesterday, I heard the cry: 'Young man! Young man!!' Thinking they meant anyone but me, I paid little attention. But then I noticed a wizened old woman standing by one of those souped up P reg Renaults. You know, the ones with the baked bean tins for silencers.

She must have been 90 if she was a day. It turned out she couldn't get her filler cap off, and needed my help. I was happy to oblige as I've still got the one opposable thumb. 'Thank you young man,' she wittered. 'What a nice young man.' Made my day.

Got her number, of course. Well, beggars can't be choosers.

Friday, March 02, 2007

I'll Never Play The Piano Again

But then I never could in the first place, so I don't give a monkey's about that.

I see that plonker Eastcliff Richard has already told you that I've had a spot of bother with my digits. Had to have three of them off. I know they tell you smoking kills, but what they don't tell you is that you end up being carted off one piece at a time.

The staff at the QEQM were wonderful, though. I'm eternally grateful for the NHS, otherwise I might have ended up putting the things in a vice and hacksawing them off myself, like Sir Ranulph Fiennes.

There's been a small Brucie bonus to the whole ordeal, I'm dictating this to a rather attractive visiting nurse, who is seeing to my every comfort. They even left me a couple of fingers 'for the ladies', so all's not lost. Ah, I see that raised a smile. Nurse, the Viagra!

Friday, February 09, 2007

Wasp Up Doc?

Not been blogging recently. Nothing's happened. Until this morning.

On the phone to my mate Bob (ex-CID) who now lives in Australia, he tells me he's been feeling a bit crook. It's his lungs. In our day it was mandatory to chuff back 60 Senior Service a day if you wanted to look the hard copper, and Bob's now paying the price. He's been coughing a lot, so they got him up the local hospital for a chest x-ray, fearing the worst.

Later he gets a call on his mobile. It's serious. Has he been walking in the bush, or out in the yard much? Well actually, yes. Why? Because the x-ray has shown up, as clear as day, a wasp on his right lung. Come to the hospital immediately for urgent investigation.

Driving over to there, he gets another call. It's the hospital again. Mrs Peters, who had an x-ray after Bob, also has a wasp on her right lung. They've got a wasp in their x-ray machine.

I've heard of kidney machines taking the piss, but that takes the biscuit.

Sunday, December 31, 2006

Happy New Year

That's it pretty much over for another year then. Thank god. It takes its toll, I've got three funerals to attend next week. Is it any wonder arteries pop when all us old codgers survive for an entire year on consomme and cold veal, only to spend 48 hours stuffing in the turkey and mince pies like there's no tomorrow? It's a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I'm just thankful I don't live in a nursing home. If you ask me, they do it deliberately to make room for fresh blood at next year's rates.

Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Pudding Club

I suppose I ought to wish everyone a Happy Christmas. I went to Ted and Janet's in the end. Their grandkids seemed to have a great time playing with the old false leg, but I broke one of my few remaining teeth on a pound coin that had been secreted in the pudding, so I've got an emergency appointment with the dentist today.

In my day it used to be a threepenny piece or a sixpence. That's inflation for you. Mustn't grumble, at least I've got a whole quid to go towards the dental fees.

Saturday, December 16, 2006

Spearmint Rhino

One of the worst things about this electric 'Rhino' buggy thing that I get around in these days is all the chewing gum that collects on the wheels. I've tried everything to get it off, but nothing seems to work. At least it's not as stomach churning as when I accidentally run over one of those dogpiles that are everywhere.

Looks like it's just me and the Rhino for Christmas. Like every good parent, I started badgering the young 'uns with the odd hint back in May, but so far the invite to Oz hasn't arrived. Maybe Ted and Janet will be kind enough to take me in, as long as there's not shit on my wheels.