The Sturdy Soapbox

Those things that set you off...

When I walked up to Asda in the dark at just after 7 this morning, I passed through the market as they were setting up for the day.

That's changed over the years, but it has been there since the sixteen hundreds, so I guess you'd come to expect that.  These days, I see a lot more Asian traders there and the fact the market sets up a lot later than it used to.

I remember in the eighties, I had friends who had a stall on the market (a long established fruit and veg family, the Kings).  They would have their stall fully "flashed" as they called it, by at least 7:30.  I know Phil would be at the wholesale market in Birmingham around 3am buying the produce to be displayed that day.

These days, they are still dragging their arses at 8 o clock and having accidents reversing their barely road legal vans into each other in the dark.  I've seen that more than once.

Things do change and it really is not oft for the better.

I'm wondering, if it is this thing "modern retailing", that fruit and veg stalls no longer pyramid oranges, apples and the likes in visually appealing displays in favour of the "any bowl for a pound" system now favoured,  Little plastic bowls (easily refilled after a sale), all so easy. The MP3 of fruit and veg selling.

So, as I was waddling up Asda bound in the dark, to hear someone singing "grocer Jack, grocer Jack" warmed my heart a little.  

Then, when I was in Asda, I heard on their "entertainment system" the Jon Anderson / Van Gelis song State of Indipendence song made famous by Donna summer, but their original was better.  This also warmed my heart.

As you know, I'm convinced we're all in a handcart to hell, especially when you turn the radio on or the telly and you are confronted with a distinct lack of talent.

Grocer Jack, Grocer Jack, is it true what Mammy said, you won't come back. oh no, no.

Well, is it true ?

The power of the Daleks

So, I'm having a little treat of a bottle of vintage Cava (Spanish champagne) this new year's eve, except I couldn't get it open.

Tried a tea towel, tried gardening gloves and no dice.  Rang master somelier OBC for advice "try a damp flannel" came the advice from someone who's opened a lot of wine bottles through the years.

Only flannel I have has a Dalek on it.  Damped it down and it still took me five minutes and having to trap the cork in the doorframe wrapped in the flannel and twist it, to get it to budge.  Damned stuff was a disappointment.

I've had Tesco vintage Cava on OBC's boat which has been on special at six quid a bottle.  This stuff from Asda was a fiver and isn't a patch on that.  Not as dry for a start and not a lot of depth in the flavour.

I won't let it get me down, but the Dalek flannel has seen better days, it's got two holes in it now !

Not doing much this evening, I'm not that big on new year's eve.  If I am up at midnight, I am up, but if I get tired, I shall go to bed.

New year's day I do like, especially if it's sunny.  A new start and all that shit, fortunes to be made, romance to be found etc.

Got to be honest and paraphrase something OBC said, any day / year above ground at our age is a good one.

Tomorrow, I have a lovely roast planned, pork, with stuffing and all the other stuff.  Was tempted to cook it today, the piece looks that good, but I resisted.

Hope you enjoy your new year.

Just call me Johnny no mates !

Through this week, I'd visitors due twice, which included Darlo and Chalk on Friday night.

Now, everyone's cried off for one reason or another. Something tells me Justin Biba's party is more attractive an option than mne, cos Westlife and Little Mix will be there.

I've put the chicken in the freezer and am cooking the spare ribs in the slow cooker in hoi sin before transferring them to the oven to be basted again in hoi sin to glaze and finish them off.

I've also had a cold which meant I wasn't really up to entertaining guests, so it seems like this Christmas was ill fated. At least Shirley Bassey is still coming round on New year's eve, so I'd best get some Malibu in.

It really is Christmas when...

Well, it starts on Christmas even when Bob the Butcher brings the box a mate...

As usual, he was hanging material, been at it solid since 5:30 this morning.  And despite having finished retailing for the day, has a couple more orders to deliver, then family commitments taking him right up to midnight, so he can't even have a drink til then !

I gave him his bag of beer, some freshly made sausage plait, a Santa hat and a cracker to pull with someone.

Good bloke is Bob, never lets anything grind him down.

The other thing that makes it really Christmas, is carols fron Kings on the telly.

I'm not a particularly religious person, but I had a Christian upbringing and I genuinely like Christmas carols and the sentiment they convey.

Some, really do have a strong emotional tug.  Once in royal David's city for example.  I would be about eight or nine and was chosen to sing the first verse solo at the school carol concert.

I was not a stage struck infant (though I was the king of hearts in Alice in Wonderland when I was ten, the headiness of which has stayed with me ever since).

Back to Christmas nineteen sixty something...  I remember I started off well "Once in royal David's city stood a lowly cattle shed..."  Then the nerves got me and I dried up.

I was in shreds afterwards, because I let the whole school down, but teachers and parents alike kept coming up to me hugging me and giving me presents.  It's then that I discovered that as long as you're prepared to put your metaphoric nuts on the chopping block, if you fuck up you still get the goodies.

Another Christmas childhood memory was of me and one of my pals in the street who was a catholic.  Phil Billingsley, who was also a choister at his local church.  I remember he and I went carol singing, just the two of us on our estate and made a fortune (well, at least two bob each), as we both had pretty good pre pubescent voices.  

I remember more than once, we were invited into people's homes to sing again, so they could hear us proper (this earned us extra money and nice things to eat).

Reason I treasure this memory is that Phil was killed a couple of weeks after he passed his driving test at 17 years old.  Not only am I still pretty moved by this, but also how I saw religion help his mum and dad (who doted on him), carry them through this tragedy.

Sadness aside, I remember the many times that Phil and I laughed til we were almost sick.  Like the time we were speeding on a home made kart and hit a rock which threw us all over the shop.  We got over our scraped knees and elbows, but I was really upset cos I lost my penny arrow (a chewy toffee thing).

I thought Phil was going to expire, he laughed so hard.

I also remember being "allowed" to watch him take part in a communion at St, Mary's in Bilston, I had to sit at the back of the church away from God, but the service was fascinating to me.

If I have to be honest, I think I prefer Christmas eve to the actual day, because it brings back all these memories and although Phil is no longer with us, the memories of his friendship are so warm.

Sad thing is, I can't sing for toffee these days, not even a penny arrow !

As long as someone's feeding him...

Irene's turn to feed the oinker !

Special service from New Street

Someone at London Midland has a sense of humour amidst the Christmas travel chaos.

Via twitter

Time for a sausage plait

OK, so you know I'm not one for pastry or baking. For example, a couple of Christmases ago, I decided to make my own samosas.  Bought filo pastry, made all the gubbins and when it came to cutting the pastry into neat little shapes etc, teddy flew out the pram and the mess of the first samosa went up the wall, the rest of the stuff went in the bin.

For years, on Christmas eve, I would traditionally make a sausage plait, with spring onions rather than ornery ones.  Then, with poverty, poor health and an increasingly cold kitchen at the old flat, I stopped bothering.

Spurred on by a warm nicely appointed kitchen thanks to WATMOS and my sister (who provided a posh AEG cooker), I decided this year to rekindle a bit of Christmas eve fun I always used to enjoy.

It's not really a recipe, a tube of sausage meat, some frozen puff pastry.  It's better if you can find the eggs to egg wash it with, like I couldn't til after it went in the oven, but what the hell...

Then stick it in a medium hot oven til it puffs up and goes a bit brown...

 

Fun with plod

For some time now, I have been following and twittering with a couple of the lads at the local cop shop (so local, it's across the road).

PC Stanley, does an excellent job, he tweets, he blogs and he Facebooks and none of it is "contrived".  He's a genuine community copper.

For the past week, he's been trying to track down a fat bearded man in a red suit, responsible for the theft of mince pies, sherry, carrots and the likes.

Earlier there was an official tweet that the man matching the description turned out not to be the one they were looking for.

I teased em :

 

This is why I love Christmas and why I am warming to social media !

 

Anyone who's anyone tracks Santa

Just had a call off Wireless Tone asking for the link to track Santa.  A text from Pat confirms the welder is already at his laptop watching the proceedings.

I can confirm that as I write, Santa's over Russia and has already delivered in excess of fifty thousand presents.

 

And for all you non believers

Would a big outfit like NORAD put up a website every year, using satellite and stealth technology to track a fat man in a red suit, with a flying sleigh led by reindeer ?

Get yourself here http://www.noradsanta.org/en/index.html  To live track the big man himself as he skeets round the globe (including the International Space Station) in real time, delivering pressies to all who've been good (so that rules the welder out, but not Pat).

I'll have the lights on the balcony for when he lands here tonight.

Keep you posted of developments.