I am perplexed, anxious, confused.
I stand here in some discomfort.
My problem? Unable to pass water to be frank-well, not unable- just mustn't. Believe you me I am keen, nay desperate. But I must not.
"Why?" you cry.
It would seem that somehow, since dressing, the hole at the front of my underpants has magically disappeared! My usual escape route has gone. I am denied egress. It is the morning of Saturday 2nd December. I have a busy weekend ahead. This can't be happening.
Today I will assist (with Ady) Roy and Annie on Panther down the Marsworth flight to the Red Lion where tonight will be held the Cow Roast Boaters' Christmas Gathering.
Adrian's new boat "Moorhen" is already at Marsworth (see previous blog) and tomorrow we will bring Moorhen back to Cow Roast after we have held a short ceremony to dispose of the ashes of our friend Geoff.
Last night I finished up on Roy's boat to discuss tides and other nautical matters and to aid clarity of thought sampled some single malt. The word "some" is inadequate in this context. Why oh why did I not have the early night I'd promised myself ? Especially whilst still recovering from the worst cold since records began.
In my confused state it would appear, after further investigation, that I have put my underpants on the wrong way round. It takes time for my mind to clear and for this fact to dawn.
Breakfast is a rushed ,unhealthy affair. The usual car swapping needs to be undertaken and I am to meet Adrian at Marsworth, bring his car back to Cowroast and return with him to Marsworth and walk up the flight to meet Panther.
Those of you who haven't fallen asleep might just have realised that my logistical planning was as arse about face as my underpants.
Why did I not just meet Ady at Cowroast,leave his car there and drive us both to Marsworth and save myself a totally unnecessary two way trip? This does not bode well.
Last week I went Aldi and took with me my one remaining old £1 coin. My cunning plan to get rid of it was to use it for the trolley.
I pushed my goods round the shop with an extra smugness at my guile . Having paid for my shopping and packed it in the car I returned my trolley.....and got my old £1 coin back ! This wasn't meant to have happened but why I ever though there would be any other ending God knows.
Still mustn't get one's knickers in a twist.
|Bob looks more like Rick Wakeman this year|
We had a grand do on the Saturday night with the Red Lion producing some very fine grub. and the raffle with other bits raised 424 quid for the RNIB in memory of Geoff. (It would have been £425 with the old pound coin some mean scrote slipped in at the end! hee hee) Numbers were a bit down which did mean a bit more seating/eating space
|Carrie trying to pay attention but knowing she is having her picture taken|
|£15 worth of raffle tickets and look what I won!|
We retired in good order not having over indulged with a reasonable chance that the hole in the front of the pants will be to the fore in the morning.
Come the morning and we have a small ceremony to perform. The Ashes of
friend Geoff whose funeral was at the end of October are to be scattered at Marsworth and his brother and cousin David with wife Joan joined Adrian and myself, Roy and Annie and Mike and Judith at 12 noon.
A prayer, a poem a few words by Adrian and Brian and the ashes were scattered in a spot that Geoff knew well near a pub we often used together. Not having done such a thing before I put together a short Order of Service and did a passable impersonation of an itinerant Rabbi. I also wore Geoff's Blackpool scarf
|Brian scatters his brother's ashes|
Thomas Aquinas summed it up for me. "There is nothing on this earth more to be prized than true friendship" ....and Geoff was a very true friend. Goodbye old mate.
And so we returned to Cow Roast and moored the newly acquired Moorhen alongside Independence where Mac and Carrie had a guided tour
My last posting talked of my two "locals" , The Cow Roast and the Lamb in Berkhamsted. The rumours as usual were rife but the picture below with the added concrete barricades suggest nothing is happening for a while, if ever at the Cow Roast. It is as always an indication that not only don't Punch Taverns give a toss about pubs, customers or employees but they have no qualms about making the street scene even uglier with a shuttered pub and a concrete monstrosity. A pub that is shut because of their greed.
|Doesn't it look awful.!?|
The other rumour is that the Lamb re-opens on this coming Friday-assuming Punch don't burn it down on Thursday.
Whilst I'm in a deep depression over the publess state of this once great nation it would seem an appropriate moment to congratulate the Australians on winning the first two tests of the Ashes series currently being played over there . They have matched and beaten us in every department of the game and there is little hope of rescuing the situation. I am told that Mr and Mrs Howe who live in the colony will soon be visiting their and my friends Mac and Carrie but fortunately that will be on the Orkneys where a complete absence of electricity, internet, phone signal or a postal service will mean their gloating will be restricted to a couple of sheep and a goat-which sounds to me like a good night out in Australia.
So that was my weekend-knickers in a twist-a jolly start to Christmas-and goodbye to two lots of Ashes.
Bye bye for now