Hell&related Stuff

How will I be able to live anymore?

It's the end of an era!

Music is the loser here!

The brothers Gallagher have finally split and last night had to cancel a gig in Paris as Noel spat the dummy/ copped on.

Oasis are no more *

*please note that whilst keying this in I am gnashing my teeth, wailing like a banshee and pulling out my hair.

How bizarre is this: Just recently I've found a neat, quiet little disused church in Botley, down here in Hampshire.

I've become quite fixated with it as at first glance there appears to be no great things there, but paradoxically there is.

I've done loads of photographs of the place and when you go into the churchyard this quintessentially rustic view meets the eye.

Sweet isn't it.

Imagine my suprise when today Simon Schama, the bastard, can be seen on his TV programme 'History of Britain' standing outside my church.

Bloody hell. If a bloke can't find his own little place of peace and tranquility. He finds instead that it's a TV location. Grrrr.

How do I get a widget that's not on the blog.uk. list, onto my page, ie import my redbubble widget link????

I've just seen an advert for one of those magazines where each month you get the parts and instructions to build something in easy stages.

This one was for a Lancaster bomber which looked impressive on the tele, with a wingspan of about three feet. What I did notice at the bottom of the screen as it falshed up for about two seconds was that it takes 125 issues to get all the kit parts. At a cost of £4.99 per issue it equates to damn nearly £625.00

Six hundred and bloody twenty five quid.

For that money I'd want to fly in the bugger.

Dennypoos........................actually knows where the only airworthy Lanc can be found.

Ok, contentious, so I'll make it short.

Should we, shouldn't we?

Did he, didn't he?

I'm reminded of a shakespearean quote in which it is said that the quality of mercy describes the nation.

I am both pleased and proud to belong to a nation so described.

Dennypoos............would like it known that he is not a lily-livered, guardian-reading, sandal-wearing, bearded, muesli-eating, wind chime-tinkling, kind of guy.....but knows what's right

Since when has The British Isles been known as 'Great Britain and Northern Ireland'? I ask this as I've just noticed that our athletics team, plucky Brits to a man, compete under this title.

Am I mistaken or is not Northern Ireland an integral part of the all encompassing 'Great Britain'? If not perhaps the Scots and the Welsh may feel badly done to as they don't get a name check.

It's not as though we were fielding a team from all the island nations, including Eire, as we do with rugby and the British Lions.

So whats going on, or has it been like this for a while and I've been in a daze these last few years?

Dennypoos...........................a part of 'Team GB'

What's he on about, I hear you say. It's a snap of some old Bid taking a photo of a piece of modern art. He's really lost it this time.

Not so foolish accolytes. Click on the image to enlarge and look through the frame made by Jennifer's right arm and you'll see why the title makes sense.

Dennypoos................... knows it's a saturday but wishes folk would get up to speed soon.

click on image to see whole picture.

So there I am sleeping with the one nicely turned ankle poking outfrom underneath the sheet and look what happens! A fucking feeding frenzy, thats what!

Managed to splat one of the bastards in the kitchen but dennypoos would like it be known that he is not a mozzie feasting zone.

Click on picture to go....."oooh that must itch".

No you silly billy's not me, the seasons/climate change etc.

I was out mooching in a bit of the garden I keep 'resting' houseplants in when I discovered this:

Now I do put my amarylis out for a good feed and a bit of sun during summer but have never had one that's decided to flower in August.

Dennypoos..............................encountering the bizarre at every turn.

...I shall mostly be avoiding Mackerel.

'an I've just learnt how to spell it too.

Dennypoos.......................................is now a Mackerel free zone.

argh....how did that get there? They're following me from my dreams.

The bloody Mackerel have lost their colour overnight.

I'll have to think of another way to attack the photo conundrum.

Bollocks!

I paraphrase what Jesse from the fast show would say:

" Today I shall mostly be photographing Mackerel".

...and the reason is that I've been given half a dozen yesterday, caught off the needles that afternoon. I'd forgotten just how vivid the colours were on fresh fish and am resolved to do 'em justice.

snap of the fish getting a rinse in the sink.

dennypoos..................ever the martyr, will be indoor whilst the rest of you may take the suns rays at your leisure.

Finally got around to stuffing the marrow which I had for supper tonight. Should have added a few more mushrooms and chorizo, but I can always grow another.

...I'm now one of the 'older generation'.

Returned from yesterdays cyclo-jaunt to find that I have been officially designated as an 'older person'.

"How do I know this", my hoards of fans and admirers scream at their screens, " surely not Dennypoos the aged as well as dennypoos the git?".

I know this because a letter personally addressed to my goodself enclosed the following letter and 'helpful' magazine.

It's the thought that counts, but I'm only 55 for fuck sake. a callow youth, a mere stripling, still with own hair, teeth and brain cell, (singular).

Dennypoos................is shortly to dust off the zimmer frame and go to the shops. I SAID GO TO THE CHOPS.

Too hot for my planned cyclo-jaunt into the New Forest yesterday, but today looks more promising, if a tad dull.

Yesterday spent tidying up the garden which was actually a chore as I wished I was doing something else. Still, looks less like undergrowth and more like the productive little plot it is/should be.

If I see canal boats hoisted out of the water near a row of cottages I shall be gobsmacked.

Dennypoos............avoiding grockles is my aim for the day.

And the reason I need to do this is that when I've planned my assault on Southampton city centre so as to miss the cruise liner tourists and the kids on holiday, I find I am assailed on all sides by clipboard carrying youngsters who wish me to donate to this charity or that charity.
Now tight curmudgeonly old git I may be, but I suport Greenpeace and Oxfam and thats it. Finito-benito.
My usual gesture of the upraised palm with a firm NO is usually enough but yesterday one young lady, in a bid to establish a dialogue, after having been given the upraised palm, came up with, " I like your purple jumper".

Boys and girls, I may say here and now in my best M&S advert voice, that this was not just any purple jumper, it's a Marks and Spencer purple jumper.

Not sure as to the message on the T shirt but something along the lines of:

NO!!
I JUST LIKE
SO DON'T DO
CLIPBOARDS.
WHATEVER!

Alternatives which don't include the phrase: "Just fuck off" are welcome.

Dennypoos..........................thwarted at every turn.

More like an odd week really. No motivation to do a damn thing except sit in front of the idiots mirror. Not eating well and as for getting a good nights kip...nah.

I have however been having some weird dreams. Not portents as to my doooom, or anything quite so dramatic, just odd, odd, odd.

F'rinstance: last nights sleep was split into about four segments for no apparent reason and yes I did go to the loo twixt 90min sessions but that wasn't vital as I wasn't 'bursting'.

The final sleep was ended by my waking and remembering what I had been dreaming of and in a random sort of 'as it comes back to me' I'll relate it:

I'm cycling along a flat bit of road, a dual carriageway. The weather's sunny and it's lunchtime-ish. Across this unknown road I notice a pretty scene where it appears some canal boats have been lifted out of the water, (presumably a canal) and are sitting in front of some pretty brick built cottages. As I get closer to take a few pictures I notice that this row of cottages is on the edge of a larger urban area and that many of the buildings coming into view around a slight bend are odd in their construction.
On which first catches my eye seems to be made of steel plates which have been riveted together but when I go round the side to get a better picture, I notice that is only half steel and the other half is Victorian red brick. Then, as I'm leaning back against a temporary fence in order to get in shot another building, it kind of gives way, leaving me sprawled on my arse on the edge of a field.
This temporary fence has been errected because there's some kind of major building work going on and some cables have to be strung across this road. This seems to be a source of entertainment for the locals as loads of folks are there to watch what is happening. I move forward to get some more pics but for some reason look down after hearing a noise from the footpath only to notice that the front end/casing of my camera has fallen off. Bending down to retrieve it I noticed that the area between my feet was festooned with bits of my camera including almost microscopic screws and even the unextended lens.
I turned to the lady next to me and tried to make light of the situation, (she was wearing a tweedy red suit)....and then I woke up.

There are no canals in the area.
I know of no houses half made of riveted iron sheets.
Why would people gawp at men stringing a cable across a road.
My camera is fine.

Come along now dream-reader-ologists. What's it all about.

Dennypoos.............the final sane days.

...was the idea.

But... I listened to the album this came from and thought I'd do it in a different way. So, from the live album 'Together' here's Townes van Zandt doing a lullaby and Guy Clark doing a neat toon also.

What I was going to do was four songs, two from each person. One being from when they were at their peak. The other just before they died, though knowing that this was what was going to happen.

This'll do for this evening.

Dennypoos..................still trying to open peoples lug-holes.

So, there I am at the invitation of a Southampton quiz team at a relatively new quiz at one of the pubs in town. What a washout/waste of time!
The 'quizmaster' was someone who would probably have to wait till next year to get a driving licence, enjoyed sharing a beer with other teams and took ten minutes between questions, then fucked off so-as mobile phones were used to max effect.

Pah! I spurn this activity as even more of a waste of time than my usually time wasting activities. I major in lethargy.

The only good thing is that my ego has been massaged by me doing the best play-doh sculpture of a bar stool, knowing that the famous person who helped with the problems of 'soft ice-cream' manufacture was Maggie Thatcher and getting the tie break question right: which was:

" What is it when the more you take, the more you leave behind?"

De'Bono..............eat my shorts.

We were runners up, I took the wine home.