An older sister, Moobag, and her little brother Foo, Went floating in their bobbing yacht across the ocean blue. They hoist the main brace, scrubbed the decks and hitched the bowlines fast, They climbed up to the crow’s nest and slid down the mizzen mast. Foozle was very bold and brave. He wanted to explore. “Let's take our yellow submarine down to the ocean floor. But Moo replied “We always use the yellow one. I think The purple one is heaps of fun (and yellow's on the blink)”. Foozle agreed and laun...
I am currently inconvenienced (hopefully in a temporary way) because my car is malfunctioning. The electronic indicator panel behind the steering wheel says, unhelpfully, "ALTERNATOR WORKSHOP!!" (sic) and the battery light has come on. It's not really clear exactly what this capitalised alarm phrase means, but it was soon really clear that the battery wasn't charging. Oh well. One of the joys of car ownership is that stuff like this happens, so one grits ones teeth and considers ones options. Calmly, pat...
I have met some doormen in my time. Occasionally, some were polite and friendly, but others were distant and disinterested. Many were unnecessarily surly, perhaps unaware that I really did only want a pint with a mate, or maybe just to throw some shapes into the early hours. Ah, those were the good times; these days I'd be more likely to throw a spinal disc herniation. The belly would wobble more in this second decade of the twenty first century than it once did, too. I had a baby-face when I was younger...
I first stuck my head outside this morning at around 08:00, not quite believing the forecasters promise that, just for one day, we might be having a respite from the torrential downpours that have plagued us in the past week or so. I didn't have much confidence that I should leave the brolly at home and ventured out with some trepidation. Happily the London skies were clear and blue, the trees were verdant and springlike, there were some bluebells gently swaying in the London breeze, and an emerald green...
It's official. London is having the wettest drought on record. Ok, it's not official -- I can't find any stats on the BBC's weather pages. I just feel like it should be official. It's no fun at all. This morning, I went to the station to catch my usual train (which, as usual, was cancelled). By the time I'd reached the platform, I was absolutely drenched. I have to wear a tailored suit, but none of the creases remain. Instead, I cut a dashing figure of baggy knees and sogginess. Umbrellas and raincoat c...
Before you read this very funny and entertaining blog post (I'm my own harshest critic), I should warn you I'm asking for some help here. Will you assist? If you'd be decent enough to read on, I'll explain everything... Leaving the office this evening, I encountered a substantial cardboard packet, empty except for a small piece of bubble wrap. It was large enough to accommodate a Pit Bull Terrier, a glass-fronted beer fridge designed for home consumer use, or a small child. I had no need to despatch an...
I recently had the good fortune to visit Scotland's grandiose and majestic capital city, Edinburgh. Being a Londoner, I'm a huge fan of cities, but Edinburgh is a different sort of place, with Reformation and 18th century architecture being the central styles in the Old and New Towns respectively. This is interspersed with a dash of medieval and, occasionally, a splash of the modern that makes any major cultural capital complete. I wandered round, armed with camera (as well as my lovely wife and happy, ...
It's a cruel thing, the climate in south eastern England. Not (usually) in the extreme ways that other nations suffer; there are no monsoons causing annual flooding and suffering for thousands of already impoverished families, and there are no hurricanes laying waste to entire cities. But in a subtle way, us poor, pampered, had-it-too-easy-for-too-long Londoners are waging an ongoing struggle. An example from my office this week: my good friend and colleague Anthony (not his real name; his real name's S...
Being a Londoner, I am absorbed by anything London related in the media, and currently I am transfixed by BBC2 documentary The Tube. It's a thoroughly fascinating insight into the London Underground, a fly-on-the-wall look at the people who work in the vast and most ancient labyrinth of tunnels, trains and tracks, and a glimpse at what goes on behind the scenes. We've met the people who have to close stations and open them the following day. We've met the men who remove and replace the huge posters you s...
