Some folks spend years looking (or waiting if they’re idle gits) for the right place at the right time, but unwittingly repetitively keep committing two wrongs.
So true Spitty, when brothers Jimmy and Tommy Wong first opened their Chinese restaurant here back in the 80’s they had to drive out to Dublin airport to pick up supplies from China, they took the right turn at Dubber Cross instead of the left and ended up in Belfast, a most unusuall case of two Wongs making a right. ;-)
Voice controlled devices.
Do we really need these things? For God’s sake how much energy does it take one to make a few clicks to hear a recording of one of your favourite tunes? Get up off your arse and plug in a plug? turn on a light bulb? Look out the window to see if it’s raining outside? Draw the curtains? indeed for some that may be the only exercise they get all day. ;-)
And don’t forget these devices have to be recharged which means you still have to get up and plug them into the power supply, then get a new battery when the old one can’t be charged anymore, or maybe they are working on a box to do that too. 
It is ideal as an aid for those who are immobile or blind, and those who like to show off, but otherwise they are totally unnecessary in my opinion.
They are spending millions on adverts trying to ram this stuff down out necks, and according to what I’ve read most of us don’t want them in the first place, anyone who cares about pollution and too much plastic on the planet knows that more of this useless junk is not a good thing.
Why did they have to name one brand “Alexa”, that’s three syllables, why not just use one syllable like Jill, Joe, or May?, if one wants to go totally lazy that does not make sense, maybe it’s a government regulation that they have to use three so as to give the impression that one is exercising…be it only the vocal cords.
“Alexa!… throw yourself into the recycling bin!”
Seems to me they have a little box for everything now, reminds me of this old song.
There are many ins and outs in life, you have to save just a bit of energy for the final phase, and stop being Green with envy, and be Green for the next generation, hang on, Generation has bought us to the precipice.:-)
Two RAF Red Arrow jets escorted The WW2 Silver Spitfire along the south coast of England as G-IRTY returned to Goodwood Aerodrome after a four month trip around the world…27,000 miles in all. A great achievement 
Marvellous plane without a doubt, everyone’s favourite, they broke the mould after they made the Spitfire.
Notice that as soon as Christmas Day is over the TV is crammed with holiday ads?. Do people still trust these travel agencies after all the companies that went to the wall? Who would ever have thought Thomas Cook would fold. Ah well you pay yer money and take yer chances, good luck to you.
“Travel broadens the mind” that’s what they say, today Google broadens the mind from your own home, you can “walk’ up any street in the world without leaving your armchair.
But who wants a wide mind anyway, when all is said and done there’s no place like home.
Reminds me of that old Mutt and Jeff joke.
Mutt: “Jeff, your hair is getting very thin”
Jeff: “I know and I’m not worried, who wants fat hair?”
I never did see the point of forking out a small fortune on fares and hotels, travelling hundreds even thousands of miles to a strange place. not understanding a word the people say, knowing nothing about the food your eating or what could be in the bed your sleeping in, not knowing if it’s safe to walk down certain streets or take a simple glass of tap water, having strange money in your pocket and not being able to figure out when you are being ripped off, staring at famous places and buildings that look exactly like they do in all the photos of them you’ve already seen, and they call that a holiday? More like a stress test.
No thanks, had I wanted to see the world I’d have joined the navy and got paid for doing it.
I haven’t been down to Kerry for a good while, think we’ll go next year if we’re still around, we always have a great time there, and when you think about it that’s what a holiday is all about…having a great time.
Travelling…wanted to do that as soon as I could toddle. Mum used to say I had gyspy in me but could never prove it from my Mothers Irish side (dont ask as it gets complicated) Who ever or whatever gave me that urge I have thanked many times over.
Getting paid to be sent to odd places helped enormously and as you can’t always depend on the luck of the Irish I deliberately chose the job that would send me forth to exotic places.:-D:-D:-D
Along with the good times like watching street food vendors perform in the way you would never see here was the dreaded Delhi belly, Singapore belly, Pharoahs curse, Montezumas revenge, Rangoon runs… all of which no matter who you travelled with be it Thomas Cooks or the poshest hotels you stayed at…you did not escape those dreaded travellers ills.
You never told your Mother though in the obligatory post cards home. That would never do as she would have said “I told you this would happen going off to those funny foreign parts”. Me …well I would never have admitted it could have been down to Abdullas infamous delicious blue curry. :-D:-D:-D
Some are born to travel and some are just homebirds like myself, Phyllis is not one for long haul travelling either, my older brother loved travelling, it used to break me heart seeing him off at the airport.
There used to be an expression out when I was a kid in the 50’s, it was probably out across the water too, I wouldn’t be sure about that though, if something looked good or worked very well one would say, “Very g’nick”, my reckoning being that it was a shortened version of “Very good nick” meaning great condition, anyway like all old expressions if faded out with time.
You can imagine how surprised I was when my 20 year old grandson was here today and I showed him a pair of “Johnny Depp” sunglasses I had bought online and he looked at me and said “Very g’nick Granda”
I asked him where he heard it and he said a lot of the students at his university use it to describe something that looks good. Strange how things come back from the dead ain’t it.
By the way I’m not sure whether he was talking about me or the glasses.;-)
I came across some old Victorian Christmas cards on Google, seems they had a sense of humour about the Holiday.
Here’s two I selected, the first one confirms what we all know well, Father Christmas has been robbing us blind for centuries.
The second one confirms that the “Bah Humbugs” have always been with us.
https://i.postimg.cc/tRBhLyrf/santa-21-1260x778-copy.jpg
https://i.postimg.cc/J4gjzxC5/weird-and-creepy-victorian-christmas-cards-640-04-copy.jpg
Motorbikes, getting ones leg over was never so difficult, or dangerous, lets see what happens.
We await with bated breath
The old Christmas cards certainly had a way of expressing sentiments …nicely. These days the same sentiments would have to be accompanied with an F word.
Did a catch up on Who do you think you are with Guest Gareth Malone. He wanted to trace where his musical gene came from and he certainly came from a line if entertainers which led him eventually to Dublin whhere his G,g,g…Daniel Lowry had been in the Erin Music hall…now called the Olympia.
I mention this Jem because maybe you have been to the Olympia and how wonderful it must be for a performer like Gareth to go back like this and stand/perform where your past relative did and all thanks to records and data being kept
http://www.whodoyouthinkyouaremagazine.com/gareth-malone-episode-summary
I have many great memories of the Olympia Solo, and we didn’t always have to pay in, when my son worked at the printing his boss was on the board of directors and he got us free tickets for many plays and shows, good seats too. It’s a lovely cosy theatre, full of atmosphere of the past, you can feel it as soon as you enter the place. I still have the printed programs from all the plays, some of the names went on to greater things, Liam Neeson, Gabrial Byrne, Angelina Ball, to name a few.
“Motorbikes, getting ones leg over was never so difficult, or dangerous, lets see what happens”
One is inclined to get more leg ups than leg overs as the years progress Spitty.;-)
The nearest I got to a motorcycle was a Honda 50, and I was pinched by a copper because the girlfriend hadn’t got her leg over, she was in a leather skin tight skirt and sitting side saddle behind me, he pulled me over and I was fined 10 quid afterwards in court. I never knew that it was an offence to sit side saddle on a mechanically propelled two wheeled vehicle.
There was no way she could have straddled the bike in that skirt. We had to go back to her house and she changed into jeans.
I only had a provisional licence so when that expired it was the end of my involvement in road traffic, I sold the bike and decided for the good of humanity and the environment never to drive or ride anything again, Sherlock Holmes himself couldn’t find my carbon footprint even if he had a mine detector.
But for six short months I was king of the road riding along on my trusty Honda 50.
If you had a good Motor bike back in the day it was was the next best thing to an E type jag. Both were magnets in there different ways. Did some courting in and on both. Ditched the Jag owner and married the biker.
Used to love the Music Hall shows with all the varied acts and one of my favourites was Danny LaRue. Risque, funny but never smutty or vulgar and always got a standing ovation when he played.
Whatever the reasons and I guess there are many there is nothing like him now mores the pity as this world needs more like him and his humour.
Yes indeed, Danny was a true professional and a real gentleman, and whenever he wasn’t a gentleman he was a real lady.
Back in the 70’s while you had an Irishman in the shape of Danny La Rue pretending to be a woman, we had on the cabaret scene here an Englishman doing the female impersonations in the form of Alan Amsby, who went by the stage name of “Mr. Pussy”, he was a very popular attraction and always drew a big crowd, Phyllis with her gang and myself went to see him several times, hard to believe he was a man, he went on to do some acting, I think he still lives here, he’s in his 80’s now.
Good job I remembered the fellas name, God only knows what would have come up if I googled Mr Pussy.:shock: 
“Alan Amsby was born in 1937 in Peckham, London, England. He is an actor, known for In the Name of the Father (1993), How to Cheat in the Leaving Certificate (1997) and The Podge and Rodge Show (2006).”
I got lucky!, I found a photo of the two female impersonators together.
https://i.postimg.cc/vBKcpJ2F/Alan-Amsby-with-Danny-La-Rue.jpg
I personally don’t do politics at all, as far as I’m concerned they’re a bunch of self interested liars and i’ve long washed me hands of them all, different parties all with the same goal in mind, power and money. Whatever happened to “A government of the people for the people”? the crop of chancers we get are way out of touch with the people, they’re from a different planet altogether.
As Terry Thomas would say. “Stinkers of the first order”.
The sooner the better they get robots to do the job.
Just to say, and for the day thats in it and in these uncertain times, I sincerely hope things work out for my friends and all the people of Britain today in this important general election, I wish you all the best of luck no matter which colours you wave.:-)
On voting day the people will have their say
And hopefully cast the corrupt politicians away
But alas it doesn’t work that way
The system is geared to make the rotten ones stay.
Brings back memories of that blundering candidate seeking election in the late fifties here in Dublin, Billy (Budgie) Branigan, up on his rostrum he said that if he was elected he would “Put shoes on the footless” instead of putting shoes on the shoeless, and “The poor won’t be spared any neglect” in place of the poor will not be neglected. and on the unemployed he proudly shouted out “I was never work shy, I worked when there was no work!” then quickly changed it to ”There was no work where I worked…we were on strike”
He never got in, but at least he was always good for a laugh.
Here’a an old cartoon from the past, note the boss is still the boss even today.
Well said Jem. As my dear old Dad used to say “It doesn’t do to air your views on Politics”…and it could not be more true today. Best to keep quiet rather rather than be insulted for daring to have a mind of your own.
He kept his views close to his chest no matter how hard pressed he was and that was in the days when a canidate hoping for your vote would come to the door and offer to drive you there and back to the polling station. We kids loved the build up though as there was always a derogatory ditty to sing to wind up those who you knew voted a certain way…and if the candidates were handing out free biscuits etc you could change allegiance ditties at the drop of a hat. None of this tactical stuff you get today …this was good old fashioned no nonsense political bribary at it’s best and we were definitely up for that.
We would trail after any candidate to watch how they were treated with either booing, hissing, cursing and swearing… or if they were lucky cheering and it all seemed so much more down to earth then as we all knew B/s when we heard it…but it was at least honest B/s.
Giving biccies was a good guide as if they gave you posh stuff like expensive shortbread you knew they were on the make so not to be trusted and best left well alone…and no matter how politely we asked they never let us have the empty tins. Us kids learnt early
https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/514yCprm5WL.SX425.jpg
All the kids loved polling day, a day off school and a few bob and plenty of sweets off the canvassers to go around shouting “Vote No,1 Paddy Murphy!” or whoever, true as you say, all good open honest bribes right in front of your eyes, it was then only a matter of picking the least harmful devil from the bunch.
Wonder what the collective name is for a group of devils? just googled it, it’s a Legion of demons.
Fooling the multitude for personal gain is as old as mankind, a very very long time ago a greedy smart arse came up with a real gem of an idea, what if I go up a mountain, stay there for a few days, come back down again and say I had a visit from an all powerful alien while I was up there, he told me to tell everyone to obey ten major rules, which he had already thought up and chiselled onto two stone slabs he found handy, if they didn’t obey not only would they suffer in this world they would also suffer for eternity in another world when they die, but if they obeyed without question they will be rewarded when they die.
All the loopholes were sealed with that little beauty at the end, “When they die”, and the chap who was talking to that alien would be in charge naturally as he was the only human who could understand the very important messages straight from the aliens mouth. There would be many more messages to come he promised.;-)
Everyone fell for it, even today that mans name is spoken with reverence, and we think we are the most intelligent species in the universe, laughable ain’t it.
All that still continues to the present day, only now we have more and more people meeting their own special aliens and special leaders appointed by said aliens with different rules but more or less the same message, obey me or your banjaxed.
https://i.postimg.cc/xTXZWRTB/moses.jpg
Very cold weather we’re having here, 0.3 today all day, what used they say, there’s a brass monkey in agony outside looking for a welder.
So you won’t be watching for the 3 wise men bearing gifts Jem :-D:-D:-D
The beauty of childhood was we were mostly unmarred by most cynicism/facts and doubt. I did believe in Father Christmas and as the Christmas star was in the sky there for me to look at (and still is) I did not doubt the nativity and why should I have…especially when a gorgeous missionary told me the story who would never have lied to a small child.
It was nice till the bubble burst and commercialisation became the new all powerful religion. I know which I preferred.
Which brings me to Christmas food. Had a very early wander round the shops for essentials and trying to find the basics at this time of the year becomes a ‘hunt the bread, milk and whatevers’ as they are now craftely and deliberatly hidden by packets of vol au vents, nibbles of every type, dips and dabs, pies stuffed with cranberies and loads more to make your shopping… pure hell. 
I was so contented at Christmas to have a piece of pork pie with home made chutney or a ham sandwich and some delicious piccalilly on the side…and a lettuce leaf wasn’t needed then for decoration either.
Like most things today it is overkilled and the true spirit and taste of what used to be a lovely time of the year is now commercially murdered.
At least my robin who cares nought for such festive goings on gets his usual bit of cake
Lovely looking Robin that Solo, nice slim figure, it reminds me of the first time I brought Phyllis to meet the grandmother for tea, there wasn’t on pick on her at that time, slim as a snake and she had hot pants on.
When we were going home the granny says to her at the door “Are you a good singer me girl?”
“No, not really”
“Well you ought to be you’ve legs like a Lark”
They became great mates afterwards.
I had a poor but happy childhood and I was never ashamed to admit it to anyone.
On some Saturday afternoons we would get a lift from the milkman on his horse drawn cart into town.
We would have helped him collect his weekly money and he’d be heading back to his base at Lucan Dairies, we never knew his name, everybody just called him “Lucan”, he would give us all a sixpence each to go to the pictures in town and drop us off at Guinness’s where their boats were docked, we’d mess about on the many barrels for a while as we would be too early for the cinema.
The “Mayro” picture house only charged fourpence in for kids so we would buy sweets with whatever we had left.
A very enjoyable day for a young boy, a bit of work, a bit of play, and a long rest in the picture house guzzling toffees.
Three Dublin boys, Tommo, and the two O’Farrells
Went down by Anna Livia to thread on the barrels
Then off the boat came a Guinness’s Sailor, now you don’t see them often
“Hey ye young brats, get the hell off 'em!”
There’s always someone to spoil your fun when you’re a kid isn’t there.;-)