Depends on external factors:lol:
I was thinking about this the other day, the Estate had more than its fair share of tough guys per capita, by definition, any guy not in this elite group could be considered weedy I suppose:-);-). Thing is, there was never any attempt to unify the “Tough” title, they all co-existed and shared the folklore, I hear most of um are dead now, its funny how resilient weeds are.
In summary, a “Plethora of unpaid Pugilists”.
True enough…and despite all the warnings from those older and in the know it was the ‘external’ factor that was the game changer for us young but unwise lot who always thought we knew better. 
Still… as you get older and you see the way it all pans out you know for sure there is a sense to it all and that good old nature has her way of making sure the genes… weedy or brawny… get a way of being spread around pretty evenly and us humans are just there to make sure that happens.
As my dear old agnostic Dad would have said with a knowing wink…“It’s all part of the plan” but as he never shared what that plan was you had to live and learn the hard way 
’
Lidl got in a small consignment of dinner gongs in complete with striker sticks, standing about 16” high they were lovely little brass coloured ornaments fit to grace any hallway, selling at €29 they were a bargain, some of the old antique gongs go for thousands, these were modern ones and probably only brass plated, but they looked the part.
When the wife went over to get one today they had none left, she asked yerman had they anymore coming in, he shook his head and said “Sorry missus, but you know the stores policy, when they’re gong they’re gong”
My apologies, I just couldn’t help getting that corny one in, I had to get it out of my system and I’d never get another opportunity like that again.;-)
I can’t say I ever had any problems with the genes and the body God gave me, I was never a Charles Atlas type, but then the missus never liked bulging muscles nor hairy chested fellas, everything is working fine still, as I said before I just have to be careful not to wear the body out. I never had the so called “feminine side” they speak of, I’m just a plain and simple old man, with the emphasis on simple.
As far as I can gather nobody understands quantum physics, they are all just groping about in the dark trying to nail down something they cannot see, hear, touch, or smell, that can be very frustrating to scientists, they get really annoyed and cranky when things don’t make sense to their logical minds. There’s a whole new world of stuff out there we know nothing about.
I did try the spinning coin experiment, touch two identical coins together then spin them on two separate surfaces, stop one with your finger and whatever side it lands on the other coin, no matter how far away, will always land on the opposite side when it finishes it’s spin, a bit uncanny how if one lands on heads the other always lands on tails, no scientist can explain why that is and it really pisses them off.
The little I know is that with quantum internet there is no limit the the speeds the signals will eventually travel, the 1-0 binary code can be split into multiple beams creating endless combinations, this in theory would mean that the signals would be travelling faster than your thoughts, so if you were logged in to your quantum computer the answer to any query you were about to pose would appear before you typed it out, go faster again and one is in the future and will know what happens next year, but then you are entering very dangerous territory, although handy for horse racing punters like meself.
But we really haven’t a clue about the possibilities or what we are trying to get into, thank God I won’t be around.
https://i.postimg.cc/sDrkqsYB/deranged-quantum-physicist1.jpg
A guy I used to banter with elsewhere mused that, when we can travel faster than the speed of light, will we need Headlamps.
Doing my usual leisurely reading of the daily tit bits I read an article where I knew I shouldn’t have laughed but you know when you just can’t help yerself. .
Enjoying history or anything to do with history I watch the Antique Road Show and often think I wish they would cut a lot of the pretentious crap they spout and give us plain english speak so…when reading that one of the exited experts had a sip from what he thought was an 150 year old port bottle only to find it was from a so called witches bottle …contents being urine, brass pins and hair…I saw the funny side and thought if that didn’t put a laughing spell on yer nowt will…and once I had stopped chortling my fantasy took flight as it is wont to do so and you wondered why and for whom the witch had made that bottle for…and so did a bit of guilt .
I scrambled to remember if I had wished ill…then came to my senses, forgot the guilt and like the exited red faced pretentious expert said to myself “it was too good of an opportunity to miss”. Dear lord I will never make heaven the way my humour takes over me :-D:-D:-D
How do you make something go faster than light?
1.Record an open flash light
2. Fast forward the video.
Witchcraft, a very ancient and a most interesting subject. All races have some kind of divine being they seek help from either for good or evil, it’s always been that way, I think there’s a bit of the mystic in us all, prayer for instance is a form of reaching out for divine assistance,
I’m not very religious but I must be some kind of male witch, whenever any of my family need a special intention they always ask me to say a special prayer for them, this has been going on for over 50 years now and it seems to work for them, I have a 90% strike rate, I kid you not, but there’s a snag, one cannot ask for money and there must be a delay of at least two months between requests, I tried the money thing and the quick repeat requests but it ceased to work altogether so I had to go back to doing it by the old rules.
I wonder would it work the opposite way if I was to curse someone from a distance, I’ve never tried it, any volunteers? perhaps some dedicated atheist might care to step up for a test run, say a mild dose of the flu for starters, it’s free and I’m free, won’t cost you a penny and it’ll be all over in about three weeks or so… if your lucky.;-)
Did I ever tell you that I once worked on a Dairy Farm, I was in charge of a Stainless Steel Trough, placed under the Milking Teats, to minimise waste, had to fight the Ladies off, tough call being the “Milk Tray Man”.
Now I know why Milk Tray named some of there chocolates… Strawbery temptation, Truffle Heart, Caramel softy, Surprise parcel…not forgetting Perfect Praline.
Cor Jem …imagine you a possible male witch wiv all that power…but oddly enough that brought a recall about an old much respected gypsy that used to visit us once a year. I can’t remember anyone refusing to buy a little something from her be it a lavender sachet or carved clothes pegs…they simply bought. Some cos they wanted to, others cos they were scared not to.
Being an inquisitive youngster I wanted to know about her way of life and despite my mothers dire warnings would ask the odd question hoping I would not disappear in a puff of smoke…or worse turn into a knobbly toad. Most folk are scared of a gypsies curse so I asked her about that and her reply was…"You dont lay a bad curse as it will come back to you twice fold. Food for thought there and well remembered. .
Anyhow it’s that time of year when you decide on the NY resolutions…or not :-D:-D:-D
To Scribbblers, their loved ones and to Mags for popping in daily
My best wishes to each and everyone for a Healthy and Happy 2020
Thank you for that lovely sentiment Solo, and the same to you and yours, not forgetting the Milktray Man and Mags.;-)
Lang, is that where that famous golfer Bernhard Langer was born?
I won’t tell you what the word Langer implies over here, say nah more Jem.
I had an encounter with a real gypsy and his old gypsy-set signet ring many years ago, I wrote it down and I’ll try to find it later on, very strange it was too.
I’m terrible at writing things down and then not naming the files or where I put them, some of the posts here trigger off an old memory and I jot it down so as not to forget it again, then it gets lost in the works somewhere, I must learn to be more tidy on the computer.
I have to keep the old brain ticking away for fear of the dementia setting in, I regularly play online dominoes to keep it active, following the horses with all the different names helps to keep it busy too, so far so good.
My dear mother was 73 when she was diagnosed with the dreaded thing and I’m 74 now, her mother and two of her sisters had it and there’s more of my mother in me than my father so it’s a sort of runs in the family thing. There has never been a case of it on the father’s side, he was 93 when he died and his memory was nothing short of fantastic for his age, especially if you owed him a few bob.
If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the Kitchen, and buy a Barbecue.
Ahhh families. They have a lot to answer for in more ways than one.
I have a similer genetic inheritance which I have always called ‘Guess your fate’ as one side lives long and t’other lives short so it’s anyones guess which side wins.
You could worry about this but worry they say shortens your life or you could see one of these clever know it alls who will scare you witless with loads of 'probabilities’and then a long will come some unexpected diagnosis that will take you completely by surprise as no one from both sides of the families popped off from that one and that gives you chance to …do all the things you had stopped doing for fear of some family infliction carrying you orf.
The certainty of knowing when your train leaves has a comforting ring about it and beats this guessing game hands down and the chances are by not worrying so much you might also beat the odds and annoy everyone by living longer. :-D:-D:-D
You could worry about this but worry they say shortens your life or you could see one of these clever know it alls who will scare you witless with loads of 'probabilities’and then a long will come some unexpected diagnosis that will take you completely by surprise.
I have a saying you know, forget a prognosis or diagnosis, only a fool would fail to recognise they are in trouble when Probability outweighs Possibility.
Then if your lucky enough to beat all the bad inherited stuff there’s always the possibility of being knocked down by a No. 9 bus.
I reckon that if we go the whole natural hog we live three lives, when we’re children, when we’re adults, and when we’re old people, three different existences in the same world in a body that’s self adjusting to each life. if you are the contented type you will have enjoyed each life, if you are the greedy type you’ll be tearing out your hair on your deathbed having to leave all your possessions behind so your lazy relatives can live it up, oh I just love when that happens, and believe me I’ve seen it happen quite a few times.
Watched Norman Wisdom in “Up in the World” on TV yesterday, I like Norman Wisdom’s slap stick style comedy, he’s very skilful at it, and I’m not knocking him, I’m obliged to him for plenty of laughs, but when he starts to sing his singing is so false, every syllable every word he tries to get out has to be perfectly pronounced, suddenly from an ordinary Joe Bloggs we get an explosion of elocution, his mouth has to warp and twist into strange shapes to achieve this in his mostly crappy love songs, if you turn down the sound he looks like an eager speech trainer in full swing, “The rain in Spain falls mainly…”, for an ordinary humble lad like him it’s all so unbelievable.
When he’s singing he’s a completely different character to the characters he plays in his films, one would expect him to be like Benny Hill and burst into something like “Spitty the fastest milktray man in the west”, but no, out comes a mushy love song, and his mouth dances a ballet to it. 
But then maybe it’s just me who notices these small things, anyway I never liked the idea of a randy crooner singing into a woman’s face, most of the women look mortified trying to smile and pretend they are enjoying it, come to think of it one of the wife’s sisters went out with a fella who used to “sing” to her at the gate when he left her home, she nearly died of embarrassment one night when her mates passed by and yerman was in full swing with “Love thee dearest”, but then he was a real odd ball and she dropped him after that night, as she said to me years later “Ah yes, I remember poor Harold, he hadn’t a note in his head nor in his pocket”
This is an example of what I mean from “Follow a Star” don’t mind his eyes watch his mouth go all over the place getting the words out ever so properly.;-)
I think all the Ladies and Gentlemen on the Shop Floor in the Factory had a very “Matter of Fact” approach to Life and Death. They could not wait to “Clock Off”.
Norman Wisdoms style of acting never appealed to me Jem let alone his over egged singing efforts…but not for the reasons you see. He was a man who never seemed to know what to do with his hands and maybe you noticed in that clip…he twiddles and strokes that mic…and not in a nice way.
Now don’t get me wrong I like a good stroke along with the best of them but his way of stroking is uncomfortable and I can’t abide a fiddler at the best of times. You want to say " If you don’t know what to do with the blasted thing Put it down"
Still there is always a bright side to everything as I suppose it does distract from that mobile gob of his so that you don’t notice it going in all directions. :-D:-D:-D
Now spitty I never had a job where you had to clock in and clock out but had friends who lived and died by this method.
Dashing to clock in on time and counting the minutes to clocking out. Got nowt for clocking in early and nowt for clocking out late either…and that was a matter of fact but at least you knew you had been to work instead of wondering into some place…doing a bit of work for a few hours …then wondering out again. Something to be said for old methods when it kept you on the daily hop :-D:-D:-D
Talking about clocking in and out, I never worked in a place where that was done, all small workshops and no need for it, if you were late you were late and as you had to pass the offices on the way to your bench you were noticed and docked accordingly on the Friday.
There used to be a character over here who worked in the building industry as a labourer, he never stayed in a job for long and was known as “Jackin up Jack”
A newspaper got wind of him and sent a reporter out to the site where Jack was working at the time. When the foreman pointed Jack out to the reporter Jack was five stories up on the scaffolding boards, the reporter shouts up to him
“Hey you up there!, are you Jackin up Jack?”
“I sure am, hang on a minute and I’ll be down for me cards”
You talking about Hybolock Jack.
