The Sturdy Soapbox

Now don't laugh...

Wally the Welder rang me so excited.  He's just upgraded all his office IT stuff, got it cheap off a man in a pub. 

 

  

  

Now I did say don't laugh...  After all, we are talking about the bloke who bought a Dell, because he was too embarrassed to ask the lady in the shop for a Fujitsu Siemens !

Hmmm

 I saw something a lot like this in the shop windows when I was in Amsterdam.  you had to put batteries in those too.

Cor...

I wish I'd found this before I slagged off the unwashed chavs I encountered in town the other day, what a perfect illustration it would have made for the post.

Hmm

Looks like underneath my desk at the moment.  One day, when I have nothing better to do, like laying a new damp course, I'll pull the desk out and untangle all those wires.

Well I found it amusing

 

You all know I dislike children, so this really make me smile.  Make bathroom time fun... 

A handfull

Was having a tidy up of old disks and found this from about 10 years ago.  Taken in Wales, it's Growler, with Bertie, Harvey, Jack and Bramble.

I always said BigUn's idea of heavy petting was taking four dogs for a walk...

The pig has a tin opener...

Those who know me personally, rather than just through the pages of the soapbox, know of my financial and computer ills.  They go hand in hand.

Around October last year, OBC gave me one of his old network terminals, because at almost 6 years old, my faithful old Packard Bell was being a bit difficult.

Because my sister in law Anita needed a computer for word processing, the PB was the perfect PC for her, seeing how her idea of multi tasking is carrying three shopping bags at a time from the supermarket.

I worked on the logic that a three year old PC was better than a 6 year old one, but I was wrong.  The newer machine had an unstable op system and if you read back over these posts for a couple of months, you will understand why I am now wearing a wig, because I tore most of my hair out in frustration at the fifteen minute lock ups blah, blah, blah.

I didn't say anything to OBC like "about that computer you gave me" and  despite Anita offering it  I did not take back the Packard Bell.  I don't do things that way.

OBC called me last week and muttered "you jammy git.  There's a PC here with lots of RAM on it".

Now you will recall the time I called him and because he was up to his ears, I abandoned my conversation with him sharpish and left well alone.

So, he dropped me off a machine on Firday which looked very nice.  It lit up, but it didn't do anything, as there was no op system.

I let him know this, very sheepishly, because you'll recall, I was sensitive about my problems becoming his problems when he was so busy. 

He called me on Saturday and said he couldn't do anything bout the op system until Monday and then commented "I bet yo'm like a pig with a tin of truffles".

This went over my head and I thought he meant overjoyed at having a new machine...  Then I thought about it.  Sure, pigs like truffles, but how many do you know that can work a can opener ?

Now, another thing you don't know about me, is that whilst I am generally an untidy slob, I keep my computer hard drive as clean as a cat's arse and the setup of the PC has to be "just so".

Consequently, it was only this afternoon I believe I finished installing and finely tuning the proggys I use and by weekend, I will have this little puppy running like a five bob watch (as we used to say in the motor trade).  Growler who's an engineer says running like a bit of egg, which I always thought odd, but if you think hard at it, a five bob watch wouldn't run well for long, yet we apply the term for something that's running to perfection.

So, whilst he's kicking up his heels in Hong Kong, then Australia then New Zealand, I will laud his virtues and thank him for the electric box (as my brother calls them), which will alow me to work at the sort of speed I am used to.

And to conclude, The pig has a tin opener at last !

"You'll get used to it" they tell me

I never did like going to the hospital and now I have to go to one 12 miles or so away, via 2 trains.

12 miles is no big deal, bit the shit heads you encounter when you are out there amongst the great unwashed.

I began with a brekky in McDonalds.  Now be aware, I eat in Mickey D's about twice a year.  As I sat there with my double sausage and egg McMuffin and capuccino, I looked a the dross around me.

Honestly, you see better dressed and cleaner looking people in line at the soup kitchen.  And why is McDonalds suddenly chav central for the dispossessed ?

During the course of the day, I was run over three times by inconsiderate breeders with buggies the size of small Fiats, with n'er a word of apology, but I really could have kicked one bitch, who ran over my foot with her case on wheels, which then wouldn't trundle any further, no matter how hard she tugged, because my foot was in the way.  when she deemed to look over her shoulder to see what was the cause, I'd managed to move and off she went, not a word of apology.  I'm still hoping she falls in front of a train, BITCH !

I recounted my stressful journey to the hospital and back to Channie in Manhattan who calmly replied that when you've been using mass transit as long as she has, you get used to it.  All bow down to Miss Chan !

I was brought up in a poor working class family.  I say please and thank you to people who serve me.  I hold doors open for people and I am only rude to others when they are rude to me (like the bitch with the suitcase on wheels).  A little civility and a few manners cost nothing, even the effort to use them is minimal.

Darlo and Charlie Chalk are from similar backgrounds to me, except when Darlo was growing up, they had fruit on the sideboard and yet nobody was ill in the household...  Both of them are polite well mannered people.

As I walked past McDonalds on my return leg of the journey home, there was a line of chavs sitting on the window ledge, cussing and spitting at passers by, a social under class, yes, working class, with no manners and no regard for any other living soul but their own.  Something is breeding that sort of contempt and it's not a lack of youth clubs or jobs or religious instruction.

The pity was that window ledge wasn't on the second floor and then someone could have opened a window and given them all an introduction to basic physics, the laws of gravity.   It's got to be bad for business at McDonalds too, because had I wanted to go there for lunch and I saw that gamut of awfulness, I'd have detoured to Burger King down the street.

Anyway, enough of the social comment.  My brother called me yesterday and insisted he take me up the pub for a pint this afternoon, after he finshed work.  Who am I to argue ?  Also, lucky me, he bought me a big bag of potatoes, a bottle of Chardonnay and a pack of salmon fillets.  then, when I got home, I made stir fry with some chicken breast, sweet chilli sauce and fresh noodles, which put me in a very good mood, but I still don't feel any more benign towards that bitch with the suitcase on wheels.

Sad thing is, I have to repeat my journey to the hospital AGAIN tomorrow to have this heart recording device taken off, so it'll be chavs a plenty and I will be gagging to get home away from it all.

TV triumph for Coopers Butchers

Well, two weeks ago, Bob did tell me he didn't have a lot to do with the BBC film crew, because he was busy and in a bit of a mood.  When the piece aired on TV tonight, they did a lot of fade in and outs and most of them were over Bob's shoulder as he filletted cuts of meat.

Then they cut to the the factory out the back where Rob Cooper  showed us what they do with all those unmentionable bits of the animal that's made into stuff Black Country folk have relished for over a hundred and fifty years or more.

Then, the reporter took some of these "delicacies" to Brum (Birmingham, that city over the hill, where they call us yam yams) and he tried the fayre on young folk.  Result, no one hated it (until they were told afterwards just what it was made of).

I recall Growler and Tarn tried Channie on faggots when she was over from New York (it's a meatball made from sheep's heart, liver and then wrapped in something that comes from the lungs I thnk).

She never did tell me what she thought of them.  Darlo Sue is famous for her home made ones, but personally, I thnk they are disgusting.  But I love lamb's liver... 

When I see Rob Cooper again, I'll get the detail on what chitterlings and brawn really is and I'll tell ya !

Link BBC Inside Out  and here's the clip from the programme Clip

Hark at the pot

Three birthday cards turned up today, including this one from the welder.  Talk about the pot calling the kettle black...