Yes Jem, a Crisis, can make a less wholesome person, wholesome, even if it is just for a moment, what a watchers dilemma is, is, what happens in the moment important, or is historic attitude, the measure of a person?:-)
i’ve never experienced historical altitude - does it make ya dizzy miss lizzy?
Thank you for that information about the railway stations Pug, useful to someone like me who never knew Vauxhall.
This is a true tale of the night a heavy branch fell from a tree and knocked my dad half out as he cycled home from work through the Phoenix Park. This would have been in Winter time back in the late 1950’s.
Old Jem peddled home through the lashing rain
The thought of a hot dinner was on his brain
The wind blew low and the wind blew high
Flashes of lightning lit up the sky
Thunder clattered, you’d never heard the like
Then a huge branch fell and knocked him off his bike
He lay on the road gawking up at the sky
Until he was helped to his feet by a passer by
“Are you alright?, could you do with a sup and some grub?”
And he walked on with me dad to the nearest pub
At half past eleven later that night
Mam opened the door to a queer looking sight
“Sorry I’m a bit late me dear, but I had a jar
Forgot me bike and left it in the bar
Sorry for giving you worry and sorrow
But I’ll get up early and collect it tomorrow.
The next morning he was up with the Lark, I don’t believe that man ever had a hangover in his life, wonder what his secret was, I never thought of asking him, too late now.
We can all see more clearly from a height Gummy. we would not be corresponding on here if it were not for the satellites miles above us and what about all those important sermons from the mount, enriching our immortal souls, all from a height, oh yes, altitude make a big difference.
Which gives me a nice opportunity to squeeze in my parable for the day, or a short sermon from the Bar if you’d prefer.
Take the humble asiatic garden beetle, he knows nothing about the advantages of height, his eyes cannot look up, nor can he turn his head, all he sees is the ground and what’s in front of him as he crawls along getting on with his life, he is forsaken by all just like the serpent in the Garden of Eden, but he is happy, you never hear a humble asiatic beetle complaining do you?
Now bring in altitude and it’s a completely different story.
To put a non flying asiatic beetle on top of a telephone pole is liken to plonking a non astronomically minded man on the planet Mars, both would be terrified, neither would know where they were, how they got there, what to do next, or have any idea of how to get back down again, simply because they were not designed to be there in the first place.
(I’m sure there’s a lesson to be learned in there somewhere)
A Jimmie - ah ya saya I shouldna be 'ere or summat laddie??
Gummy, don’t feel isolated, just keep doin more of the same, you know it makes sense.
a chummy aim nay non-flyin asio beetle!!
Rock on Gummy, we all love ya!;-)
I’m not religious but I love the old parables from the bible, one of my favourites is the sower who sowed the seeds
As best I can remember it went something like this
There was once a very sore sower who couldn’t feel any lower
So he grabbed his bag of seeds wot were lying on the floor and went out the door
He spread his seeds to the right and to the left, and one over the shoulder for good luck
Then he slipped on a rock, fell by the wayside and uttered “Oh F…k”.
The wife has got a hearing aid for the first time and she’s trying it out as she goes about her daily chores. In my opinion she doesn’t really need it but she was dead set on getting one after her sister Maisie got one and told her it was the holy grail, anyway she keeps telling me now to lower my voice.
One thing she’s very bad at, smelling, she can’t smell gas or when something in the waste bin is smelling, unlike me in that quarter, I’m like a bloodhound and can smell a fleas fart.
This made me wonder, can one buy a smelling aid? is there such a thing? and if not why not, not being able to smell gas can be very dangerous, especially to older folks.
(I thoroughly enjoy this thread but don’t dare disrupt it.) 
“One thing she’s very bad at, smelling, she can’t smell gas or when something in the waste bin is smelling, unlike me in that quarter, I’m like a bloodhound and can smell a fleas fart.
This made me wonder, can one buy a smelling aid? is there such a thing? and if not why not, not being able to smell gas can be very dangerous, especially to older folks.”
Ah;ol’Jem,trying to hide his farts in the general scented melee’ of the kitchen,eh?
Right,Jem…it’s medical name is Anosmia. My v/g friend [yes,I had one - we no longer communicate…shuddup!] ANYFKNWAY…anosmia is usually caused by nasal polyps,as my one-time bestie Atillio discovered. He lost his sense of smell totally,falling off a horse in Rhodesia in his teenage years[azzit then was] and subsequently whacking his hooter on the ground. It didn’t bother him as a teen…and by the time he hit adulthood,it was just ‘part of being alive’,so he never gave it a thought. …until-fast forward 50 years…he had a heart attack. Ok,yours truly was busily doing his ‘family chauffeur’ bit and we were all sat with Atillio when the doctor popped his head in to say they’d discovered polyps up his inner conk and did he want them removed to aid his breathing &,more directly,his sense of smell.
Yurr…and I was there. So,during his stay in hospital,the polyps were removed…and he realised I stink. Ergo; end of very long friendship. #sigh# SHUDDUP!
I once knew a terrible old fart
You knew where he was in the dark
When he entered a room, all the ladies would swoon
And he say “oh my goodness they’re tarts”
All of the dogs would follow him ‘round
Keeping noses close to his ground
They would fight to get close, to his rear ended post
But when he let rip they would fall to the ground
The end of this story is sad
As he was otherwise a terrible nice lad
But he once let rip higher standing next to a fire
And now this poor laddie is gone
It’s still warm here, good job the fire ain’t on, I’m ripe for a rip.
Thank you Surfer.
As for disrupting, hop right in anytime it’s a wide open thread for nonsense and whatever comes into your mind at the time, sure the whole thread is a disruption in itself, meaning nobody sticks to the point, one word borrows another and so on.
The only thing is we try to steer clear of politics, serious politics always cause trouble in my humble opinion.
So we’d love to hear from you and I promise you the lads will be on their best behaviour, if not out comes the shillelagh.
Nice poem there Gummy.
I love that nice story Pug, and very well told in your own unique style.
It begs a question I could never figure out, do some people use a lot of scent because they smell terrible without it, or as a line in that old Kinks song “Dedicated follower of fashion” goes “He thinks he is a flower to be looked at” so they want to smell like roses every minute of the day.
In the old days men didn’t have much of a choice choosing smelly stuff, when we were going out to a dance it was a toss up between “Old Spice” and “Brute” and didn’t Brylcreem smell awful when it went rock hard and stale, it didn’t just hold your hair in place, it welded it to your head.
Looking nice and smelling well go together, but should the look match the smell? Wouldn’t it add a bit of fun to a fancy dress party to make it compulsory to smell the same as your character or costume? The flowers and vegetables would be easy to do. Sherlock Holmes would reek of pipe tobacco, Doctor Watson would smell of Ether, and so on.
Smelling like a flower was always acceptable where women are concerned, even though some weeds smell great, Wild Mint, Thistle and Elder flowers for example, but you’d never get away with saying to your woman “Darling you look lovely tonight, (sniffing the air), and smelling like a weed too”
Oh,COME now, young [!] Jem
For long, has it been a tradition to name young ladies after weeds.
Daisy,Jasmine,Clover,so forth.
Whereas we chaps, well,we had little choice-either named after a film star,an elderly relative, or an explorer. F’rinstance;Earnest,Christopher,John,Stanley,et al. It was in no way appreciated when I broke with this tradition,naming my first-born son Daphne. Innovative,progressive,non-traditional. He seems not to like his name…'though I can’t see the problem,myself.
Pug how could you inflict that name on a boy! shame on you.
Still Daphne is not too bad a name for a lad, it’s not as common as Sue, a popular name for boys after Johnny Cash started the trend, Daphne it right up there with the great authors, heres a Daphne quote that might appeal to him.
“I wish I was a woman of about thirty-six dressed in black satin with a string of pearls.”
― Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca
Why will nobody admit to being a Yuppie?
Remember the upwardly mobile Yuppies of the 1980’s, the straight out of college chappies with the ten ton mobile phones and a fat Filofax tucked underneath the arm, where did they go and what did they turn into? They had the answer to everything, the ideal blueprint for the perfect life, every possible angle covered, all financial matters in hand, be in possession of all the facts and everything will be tickety boo, well was it tickety boo?
I ask this because my eldest grandson recently attended a reunion dance of Teddy Boys his girlfriends grandad organised, he told me he had the time of his life at it, the best of craic.
We have Mods and Rockers reunions, Hippy reunions, Punk festivals, even Beatnik reunions, but alas no Yuppie reunions, why so, have they all gone into hiding? I was telling me grandkids about the age of the Yuppie, they never heard the word before.
Why are ex-yuppies not proud of their cause? was it all a big flop? Perhaps some brave and proud Yuppie, who’d now be approaching 60, should finance a statue and have it erected outside the stock exchange, no need to name the person just call it “The Unknown Yuppie, lest we forget”
I say to all you Yuppies in hiding, come out with your Filofax’s above your heads and show yourselves, you will not be harmed, slagged to death maybe, but not physically harmed.

Simple one this Jem, Yuppies were solitary souls, anti gregarious, they do go to reunions, but, only invite themselves.
I invite meself to me own reunion every night too Spitty, when I’m at home that is, reminiscing and playing a few old songs with me port and smoke, the wife is usually asleep on the couch, snoring sometimes, then at bedtime I wake her up and tell her the party is over, time for bed.
No I just wondered what happened to upwardly mobile people nearly 40 years on, a good subject for a TV documentary maybe.
I had a brother in law, dead now, who was a bit upwardly but he never got very far up, he was good at spoofing and big on corny get rich quick ideas, I remember he had his new mobile phone repossessed, (they cost a fortune when they first came out)He would never answer the door to folks he owed money to, but the phone crowd tracked him down easily enough, a chap from the company came into the pub one Saturday afternoon with an official looking document in his hand, he flashed it to yerman and grabbed the phone in the middle of a phone conversation, the face on the brother in law was a picture to behold. Laughter abound in the pub, not fair to laugh I know but nobody loves a smart arse and that’s what he was, he shat millions but in reality he hadn’t got a penny.
HE’S NOT A REAL YUPPIE!!!
LOOkatim!
Shirt by Givenzi,tie by Lauren,suit by Armani,'phone by Motorola…
…wristwatch by TIMEX! ARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!
Bleedin’ fake items-BANE of my life,I tellsya!
Why,only last WednesFriday,I bought a genuine,vintage,limited edition,certificated 18th century Toshiba laptop…only to discover it’s a fake!
I mean,not everwurn’s as perceptive as me…so it was only due to my intense scrutinisation of aforementioned fake,that I spotted the cross-head screws in it’s lower casing…and,although a lesser person may not know this,I happen to know the cross-head screw wasn’t invented until 1801,when Napolean screwed his saddle onto his horse ready for the ride to the Easter Islands,where he ruled using the steam-powered telegraph he invented there,to send reflections of himself looking important to…well…himself. Bit awks,as there weren’t any other telephones on the island-but that ain’t the point! Anna Nuvvafing…I have a feeling the swans-quill keyboard on this laptop may be a bit dodgy,too! Nobody else’s laptop ever runs out of ink…so,ergo,ipso facto and etta demonstandum…the ink must be leaking inside it…BLOODY crappy 17th Century technology! It sucks!