Funny enough RJ I didn’t inherit my Dads big nose, out of the five offspring only the youngest brother sports the Roman nose. They have a strange expression for the youngest in large families over here, “Ah he’d be the shakings of the bag, God bless him” although you seldom here it said anymore, either PC or the days of the large familes are done with, gonna be tough for western countries to raise big armies in the future methinks, lets hope it won’t be necessary, I read somewhere that they are finding it hard to get recruits of the right weight and fitness at the present time.
what a lovely feel good story
Yes a lovely story Gumbud, thanks for posting it.
I often think that gold, silver, and certain stones have magical properties. I remember once a traveller gave me a gold ring to take a couple of sizes out of it, I did but when I went to solder the ring back at the joining the solder just wouldn’t run for me no matter what I tried, when I brought it back to ask him about it he said it was his fathers ring and he took it unknowns to his father to have it sized as a surprise to him, it had been lying in a drawer for years as it was too big for his wedding finger. He came back the next day with his dad and I tried the ring on his finger, it was far too small for him so I had to put the piece I took out back into the ring, the solder flowed perfectly at the first try and when I finished and polished it it was a perfect fit. I could never figure that one out to this day. His wife had been dead for many years and he never remarried, strange but true.
[CENTER]Running…[/CENTER]
I went running this morning! …first down the stairs which is I might add a lot harder than running up them as there is a great danger of toppling…then I remembered that I had forgotten to put me dressing gown on so…yes you guessed it had to run up the stairs this time and I could feel the shortness of breath building up. As I hit the top of the stairs I did I quick turn to the right and sprinted down the landing to the spare bedroom. Afixed the dressing gown whilst running on the spot and then another landing sprint and the hazardous left gulley turn and the jaggered run down the stairs!..
I was now at busting point, as we have no upstairs loo so sprinted through the kitchen doing several chincane pincer movements to reach the loo door which I discovered locked and was emitting strange coughing and farting sounds…yes grandad had beat me to it…so once more [shall I jog on the spot which seems to shake up the fluids or out into the garden were the cold air may calm things down?..
I settled for the garden and now feeling the cool morning air and dew and fog and bird sounds headed up the stone pathway doing a quick double turn around the far clothes pole and back to the kitchen…[what would I discover?]
grandad was just exiting the loo and normally I would give it a miss for a good 10 mins to let the fumes evaporate, but nature must so taking a deep breathe in I went had a long hard pee which produced copious clouds of steam and jogged my way to bed exhausted…but before slumbering checked my sturdy wrist stopwatch cum swiss army knife and discovered that I had clipped off 3 amazing seconds from yesterdays exact same run…see you on my next running escapade where grandad gets his just rewards!!
from the house-trained road runner!
TRuly a breath of fresh air GUMBUD.
How come your nickname is GUMBUD, I have often wondered if it is something to do with EUCALYPTUS trees.
well it’somethin to do with Australia that’s for sure!
I know the aroma well Gumbud, I had a Grandad like that, I used to aim for the bowl then stick me head out the window when I went in after him.
today I introduced grandad to the fine art of indoor running!..I realized he had a problem often getting to the loo on time thus the large amount of pyjama trousers on the outdoor line [we are currently saving for a electrical clothes dryer!] I awoke him at his customary time of 6am exclaiming “loo grandad” when we got to the top of the stairs he looked at me in disbelief - " jog down the stairs grandad I muttered" he started off quite well and then tripped at the halfway mark and summersaulted the rest -quite amazing really for a 95 yr old. I did my now customary high knee shuffle down and picked him up at the bottom. "now grandad I muttered we have to do a steady jog chicaning around the kitchen table to the loo. “chicaning he gulp is that painful?”
“no I explained just duck and weave a little” I steadied him at each turn and as he approached the loo door pushed him gentle into the rocking chair and dash into the freshly smelling loo myself.
As I weezed and strained I could hear him farting outside and catching his breath at the same time. My need was greater so I left him too it. All went silent and I finished off loading and appeared into a silent kitchen he had fallen asleep. Ah well may as well finish my sprint in the garden this time doing a double circuit passed the gooseberry bushes and falling into the cabbage plot - surfaced covered in snails and then twice around the clothes line and back into the kitchen. Grandad was still sleeping so I lifted him to full height manoeured him onto the loo and left him there gently whispering into his ear 'let if drop"!
I closed the door and continued jogging on the spot until I heard him fall off the loo! He had awoken and looked dazed but I smartly erected him and said “OK pops back to bed, get those legs moving again” he amazingly staggered up the stairs this time with his trousers around his ankles and loo paper blowing in the breeze. I propped him back in bed and contemplated a jog in the nearby spinney but then decided that outdoors was for another day.
Note to self : get grandad X-rayed sometime this week to determine future running capability!
Maybe I could get the rest of the family into this fracase?
I do love a good run in the mornings!
I formed a mental picture of all that Gumbud, very funny.
In the post Gumbud…
An application for the Goolagong Half Marathon in May.
Fosters are covering the drinks stations.
I’ve been so impressed with you training, looking forward to reading your report…good luck.
And it’s good luck from me too Gumbud, I too will be looking forward to the report.
tch tch - have won the Goolagong Half Marathon six years running [no pun intended] looking for marathons now or even dare I say it ultra marathons in the ilk of Cliff Young who won the Sydney to Melbourne ultra marathon at the age of 61 in 1983. If you can get a copy of the telemovie “cliffy” well worth a watch.this was what champions used to be made of!
Ah!! A new dastardly plan had entered my bubbling mind! – training granddad for ultra marathon. Not all at once of course but building up in stages for the last 5 yrs of his life so he can go out with a blaze of glory.
He had already experienced the downstairs slalom and the chicane weaves around the kitchen and then the steady climb up the stair crevices [asleep though he was at the time]. But now serious training must begin. I would wake him at his customary time of 6am introducing him once again to the downstairs tumble – kitchen chicanes and then the new challenge the garden – not one garden but two [we have access to next door whilst they are away in Barcenlona!]
I awoke him and whispered the magic wood ‘loo grandad’ at which his whole body seemed to go into spasm and his eyeballs elongate! But before starting I asked him “how long have you been on statins grandad?’ – you could see his mind fumbling with the words and then he shouted “ I’ve been static for quite a while and need to get moving again” – “good I said and is it true you have had 2 heart attacks recently” – “ three grandad said why?” “Well I replied you may not believe this but serious exponents of the worldly gym believe that exercise is the best thing for heart attacks” at which I grabbed him by his pyjama top and rushed him to the stairs – “down you go old laddie I muttered” an off he went this time managing to remain upright. He stopped at the bottom not knowing which way to turn at which point I chicaned him through the kitchen and straight through the open door into the foggy drizzly garden air. Oh my God I thought the loo we forgot the loo. A quick spin turn on the spot and then he was seated on the throne and doing only what he does best. I looked up at me staring blankly as if he didn’t know where the hell he was – this was the chance – another grab at his pyjama top and re-directed back to the garden. “OK grandad I shouted – get those knees pumping upwards and forwards’. Amazingly he obeyed and we headed for the potato patch – straight through without a care – I had to grab him by the left shoulder and stir him around the clothes line pole and across the marrow bed – [we lost a lot of marrows] – another left pull and he somehow managed to run straight through the runner bean poles and down towards the tomato patch – I caught him up as he squelshed his way through 4 pounds of ripe tomatoes. How he found the open kitchen door I do not know but find it he did ran straight through it and collapsed into the kitchen rocking chair!
Checking my time/health barometer on my Swiss army knife I noticed that he had already broken the street record for over 60’s on early morning jogs. I think I am onto a winner here – a stud grandad – betting comes to mind!
Yes he could end up odds on Gumbud, my spies on the gallops are sending in glorious reports on him, go easy on the statins, he’ll be routinely checked for performance enhancing substances after the event.
A Mysterious Woman in 1977
I once met a girl, couldn’t see her face
It was shielded in very fine lace
“Good evening” she said, “Want to go for a drink?”
And off I went without stopping to think
In Madigan’s pub we settled in seats
The singers were singing their usual repeats
‘My Mother died last Springtime on the old Bog Road’
Then some other ole wan who sang like a toad
The hours passed quickly as they always will
When taking it easy and having your fill
She laughed and shone like a star in the sky
Through her veil I saw a glint in her eye
Before we knew it it was closing time
I knew in the morning I’d be dying
She got up and went out on her way
I’ll never know who she was to the present day.
you sure can pick em Jem - nice one too - I like the mysterious side of it all!
Getting Bulls Eyes over a Gobstopper (remember them?)
There was a man who owned a shop
He sold gobstoppers and pop
A colourful display out in the front
And he changed it around once a Month.
A woman and child entered one day
“Good morning’ Ma’am, not a bad day”
“I’ll take a pair of them Gobstoppers”
And she handed over two coppers
The young lad started to suck it
When suddenly his Mother said F…it
The thing had got caught in his throat
And she turned him over by his coat
A slap on the back and it dropped out
Then the boy began to shout
“I want it back, don’t be so mean”
“Get herself home before I scream”
“You shouldn’t sell them, it will only provoke him”
“Not my fault missus, I didn’t choke ‘em”
“I’ll have you up before the board for this”
“There’s not a bother on him, he’s just takin the piss” 
I’m glad I came across this very old photo today on my local forum, it’s a picture of the Strawberry Beds in County Dublin, a truly beautiful place back in the days before development tore the heart out of it. When we married in the mid 1960’s my father in law would drive us out there on Summer Sunday afternoons, he would leave his wife and the pair of us in the lovely little pub there called the Hunters Moon and drive off to do his charity work in St Mary’s Chest Hospital in the nearby Phoenix Park, he would come back for us at around 6pm. They served the best pint of Guinness this side of the Liffey, in those days the women wouldn’t be got dead with a pint glass in their hand so they used to drink half pints, I remember a young man coming in one very hot Sunday and asking the barman for half a pint of Guinness “Sorry young man we don’t sell half pints to men” “And why ever not may I ask?” “It takes too long to wash the lipstick off the glasses” I suppose today the poor barman would be hung drawn and quartered by the PC crowd for having his little joke.
Ah Jem you are evoking my memories of my one trip to the Emerald Isle with wif and bros and his filly. This must have been back in '99 - drove down to Holyhead one clear sunny morn in June and onto the car/lorry/passenger ferry. How impressive - the whole process of loading and facilities for passengers top decks. Alcohol and food were a given. We purchased a phone card and rang family in OZ - truly amazing. We disembarked at dun laoghaire to find east european beggars in the streets and no immediate digs available. But one helpful landlady rang the House of Reaney 20 mins away who had spare rooms and what a lovely georgina place it was with accompanying park opposite - we should have stayed longer but were on a whistle stop tour. this part of Don Loaghaire reminded me of my past Liverpool history with old style bakers and butchers and candlestick makers and of course the odd pub or two! More of that latter but full of excitement and having arrived mid-morning we caught the train to magic Dublin for an afternoon of wizardry and magic!
TBC: