Tag Archive: Walsall


Where are we this week …?

I’m writing this on Friday and setting it to auto post as I’m doing a double shift of 48 hours this weekend and I’m unable to do much apart from check the app on my phone (See how with it I am in regards to technology).

Yes I know, it’s Father’s Day today but to be honest, I usually find that more depressing when my lot forget it each year. Maybe one day.

But as for yesterday and today, I’m trapped!

June 16 - In Jail Monopoly

So … while you read this, I’m hard at work while sipping the occasional bottle of Coke.

Have you seen the new thing Coca Cola have launched? The Friends Bottles. Now when I first heard about it, I wondered why they were going with a sitcom which finished ten years ago. I know Friends was brilliant, but it’s old.

June 16 - Friends TV Show

What?

Oh …

So, it has nothing to do with the TV series. Apparently, each bottle has the name of a person on and you choose which friend you want to drink with.

June 16 - Coca Cola Friends Bottles

Okay … It worked with this one above. You see that’s my son’s name. But have you thought what it’s like for us OCD folk? I have four children. How could I buy one name and not do the same for all of them? And then you have the sticking point. Yeah, I’m okay with buying names like Neil, Dawn, Amy and Mike and Rich, they’re my friends. However, what if I go into a shop and the only ones there are called Jeff. I’m not buying Jeff. Why would I? Jeff’s a twat. I’m not sharing a bloody drink with him.

Bit of an own goal by Coca Cola, restricting which bottles you may want to pick up. Then we have the kids in their lunch breaks. It was always bad in my day in a crowded shop as some idiot went, ‘I want one of those …. and one of those …. Oh, wait, let me think …’ Half-an-hour’s pause. ‘Oh yes, and I want one of those …’

Can you imagine the queue in the local convenience store as these little adults try to pick and choose which friends they haven’t fallen out with that day.

I’ll stick to Pepsi.

But that’s enough about me. Here is the news …

And a big question.

Alleged comedian, Russell Brand is set to appear as a panelist on debating show, Question Time.

April 8 Brand

Really? The only question I ever have surrounding Russell Brand is why anybody finds him remotely funny or interesting.

A bad case of wind.

Apparently, it is now far harder to get planning permission to build a wind farm than it is to build a nuclear power plant.

June 16 - Wind Turbine

Doesn’t surprise me, but I don’t know what the issue is. I think they look good and it’s quite therapeutic to sit and watch them go round. Did anybody ever have a problem with traditional windmills like those in old Amsterdam? No, they didn’t.

However, you try and put a wind farm up today and everybody in the neighbourhood is up in arms about them being a blight on the land.

‘Nooooo!’ they squeal. ‘Not in my back yard.’

I find it amazing that something which is good for the environment is deemed to be an eyesore and unwanted, yet nobody seems to notice or give a flying fig about the spiders web network of electricity pylons wrapped around the country. Many of which are in urban residential areas.

June 16 - Cat's Head Pylon

Nowt as strange as folk and what they object to.

And that’s a wrap.

I’ve been promising myself since Christmas I will try to stick the roast on a diet. Under 700 words this week. Well, it will be if I stop waffling.

Cheers.

 

Nick

Introduction.

I’m delving into the old Myspace archives again. Things not been great in old Walsall but I don’t want to go weeks without a roast. Therefore, I’m re-posting more of my now impossible to find roasts from the Myspace days. However, I’m going to go against my OCD and not leave where I left off the last time I re-hashed the old stuff. You see, I was up to December 2008 and I thought, looking today, it would seem silly when the sun is shining to be talking about the perils of Christmas shopping.

June 9 Father Christmas Sunbathing

Yes, not quite the season for Father Christmas.

Therefore …

Britain’s Got Talent Pushy Parents (Originally posted (7 June 2009).

I saw the clip of a little ten year old on Britain’s Got Talent. This is the girl who forced hard man, Simon Cowell, to give her a second chance after she broke down and cried with a hissy fit. Verruca Salt from Willy Wonka would have been proud of the performance. Am I being cruel and heartless, though to say that I found it incredibly funny? At the end of the day, there is a moral here about the pitfalls for our kids if left in the hands of pushy parents. Kids should be kids but some parents just want to bask in the glory.

June 9 Girl cries on Britain's got Talent

There she is, in tears after that cruel pair, Ant and Dec, told her the show hadn’t time to give her a second chance. Cue the tears, enter Simon Cowell … On with the second chance.

Sense of fair play, 0 … Spoiled Brats, 1.

And I hate to say it, even though I don’t watch the show, I catch bits occasionally and it’s still full of tiny tantrums in the making which the audiences go gooey-eyed over.

You have to wonder about the parents. Ahhh, if only they could keep them young forever. They’d milk millions from them.

Also during that week … Britt’s adventures eating out (Originally posted (7 June 2009).

I spoke the other week how us with the Britt name get bad experiences, wherever we go, particularly while eating out. Well, four years ago …

I went out twice this week. The Indian Restaurant was nice, even though I had to avoid having the Travellers on the other table offer to do the guttering on my house. They even tried it on with the old couple on a nearby table and three of the waiters into the bargain.

Normal Nick service was resumed when I went to Pizza Hut the following day. Not the usual one where we get bad service from aggressive staff. We tried that one and were told there was a 25 minute wait for a table. Therefore, myself and companion of the time, went to the other one around the corner in the Shopping Centre. There we were seated straight away … then had to wait 25 minutes for somebody to take our order.

I say seated straight away … that was after this huge lady came into the place and made a beeline for the table we were being showed to without approaching any staff and almost knocked my companion over in the process. The staff allowed this and also served her first because she shouted louder. So it was great fun for us to wait for our order to be taken as she wolfed down her starters. Still, at least we got the bill before her and left with satisfaction when I commented that I hoped she choked on her gateaux.

Bitter, me?

And I still hate Pizza Hut. I always have some bad experience. I don’t even own up to going there any more. And I’m not the only one. Former footballer, Gareth Southgate even wore a paper bag on his head in this Pizza Hut TV commercial.

June 9 Gareth Southgate Pizza Hut Advert

Weird. He has a paper bag on his head, yet it still looks like Gareth Southgate.

Callers who leave me cold. (Originally posted (7 June 2009).

I had a call the other night from a company called Space Designs. I’ve had them before and the woman put the phone down on me as soon as I said I wasn’t interested.

This time, when I said no thank you, the guy from Space Designs got aggressive with me, shouting, ‘What do you mean you aren’t interested? You haven’t heard what I have to say yet.’

WTF? It’s my bloody phone isn’t it? They rang me on my time. I can say what I bloody well like. Therefore, in revenge, I managed to engage this pillock in an argument which lasted over five minutes. That’s five minutes of his sales time when he could have been contacting somebody who actually gave a damn.

Message to all Cold callers, don’t mess with the Empty Souls.

June 9 Blondie hanging on the Telephone

Okay, I couldn’t find a picture which demonstrated dealing with cold callers. Therefore, here’s Blondie singing Hanging on the Telephone.

I will add, Empty Souls was my pseudonym on Myspace.

Let’s talk about sex, baby … (Originally posted (7 June 2009).

Or rather, tantric sex.

I was reading an old article about Sting and his experiences with Tantric Sex. Basically, this practice appears to be where people forego any physical intimacy and instead, do it on a spiritual path. By using their inner eye, they can apparently focus on their partner and reach sexual satisfaction without all that tedious, messy shagging.

My God, you have to admire the invention of the woman who came up with that one. You know, some poor lass who wanted an excuse not to have some fat hairy bloke humping and grunting on top of her for ten minutes while they were more concerned with trying to breathe. I mean, the old I’ve got a headache, darling, must have been wearing a bit thin and they obviously needed a new approach.

Imagine the scene. Tired woman wants to relax but there he is, in the bedroom, undressing with expectant grin on face while trying to hold the muffin top belly from exploding over his boxer shorts.

‘Darling,’ she says, ‘I’m going to suggest we try something different tonight.’

At this point, hairy bloke will get excited because he thinks she may be about to abandon all that messing about called, foreplay.

‘I’ve been reading about this thing called Tantric Sex, and I think it would benefit us. What we do is both remove our clothes and sit six feet apart from one another. While we concentrate our energies, our inner eye will focus on our bodies and eventually, we reach sexual satisfaction. Oh and you may find it helpful if you close your eyes while you’re doing it. Plus, I’m going to be glancing at Hello Magazine as it aids my spirituality and hopefully we can both enjoy this fantastic experience.’

Therefore, while he is sitting cross legged with eyes closed and inner eye exploring the contours of her clitoris, her inner eye is pricing up pink sparkly heels.

If I tried something like this, my mind would switch off and I’d be asleep within minutes. Perhaps that’s what the desired effect is.

July 8 Sting Smug Git

Tantric sex, as promoted by Smug Git of the Year, twenty times running, Sting. He wouldn’t be so smug if he worked out wife, Trudie, just wanted a peaceful night when she suggested tantric.

So long, and see you next time.

Okay, hope you enjoyed that. I do aim to re-post more old blogs rather than have them lost in the catacombs of Myspace but hopefully, next week I shall be back to normal.

Cheers.

Nick

More recycling nonsense.

Last week I recycled old Sunday Roast material as I hadn’t anything new to say. And it got me thinking. In those pieces of old, I spoke of recycling when it first became a fad in my locality a few years back.

Before the present recycle collections, our local council used to issue us with a small box for recycling virtually nothing, while the rest went into the large green waste bin. Any recycling like plastic bottles, we had to take to collection points.

However, I applauded Walsall Council when they told us to use the huge green bins in order to recycle … well, just about anything. We were also issued with smaller grey bins for what little you couldn’t recycle.

May 26 - Waste Bins (C) Antony N Britt

There they are. In the larger green ones, as I say, the list was endless and Walsall was hailed as being at the forefront of environmentally friendly. Until last year.

Suddenly, us residents were doing it wrong. No longer was it okay to put in all of the previously indicated items. No, we had a compressed list of 20 suitable ones.

May 26 - Recycle Leaflet

Actually telling people would have been a good idea but these leaflets only went out after bins were left uncollected and jobsworth inspectors came along with their clipboards and put stickers on to say you’d done it wrong.

In hindsight, if things were not done correctly, then at least the council should have held their hands up and said they’d made a mistake with their previous guidelines.

Walsall Council own own up to something like that? Nah, that would go against the divine right mentality in the God complexes of those who run our council.

And another false way of helping the environment.

I’m always seeing products in my supermarket which have cheaper and supposedly, environmentally friendly refill packs.

May 26 - Refill Packs (C) Antony N Britt

Yes, just like that. Horlicks bedtime drink and sweetener. These usually come in plastic tubs or jars, as shown. I’m told this will save the environment. Really? You see, I can recycle the jars, however, not the refill packaging. So how is that better?

Also, it is supposedly costing me less as these refills are a few pence cheaper and I can save the money by just emptying the contents into the old jar.

Yeah, right, have you ever tried to pour a refill into an old jar? Take the sweetener. No matter how careful you open the plastic packet, as soon as you attempt to pour, most of it goes over the side and creates a white cloud akin to an Icelandic volcano. Therefore, my fifty pence saving is no longer still in my pocket, it is in a squidgy mess being mopped up with a paper towel from my kitchen surface. A kitchen towel, I will add, I cannot recycle.

Now something I can recycle …

Look. This is the scene in my front porch, as I speak.

May 26 - Pizza Menus (C) Antony N Britt

Tell me, just how many pizzas do these fast food places expect me to be able to eat?

And what else is being recycled at the minute?

The FA has announced yet another new football kit to fleece the parents of every kid who wants to wear it. However, I can see their thinking on this one.

May 26 - New England Kit

The new kit is identical to the successful one used by Germany all these years. Therefore, by pretending to be Germany, the England football team can now hope to recycle a little of our European neighbours triumphs.

And on the subject of football …

Well, loosely connected to football … and very loosely connected to recycling …

Father of former England stars, Gary and Phil Neville, has been arrested.

May 26 - Gary and Phil Neville

Yes, there are the brothers but what on earth was their grandfather thinking when he named their dad, Neville?

Neville Neville? Recycling names takes a bizarre twist.

And recycling old, tired faces.

Karaoke talent show, X-Factor has long been guilty of recycling the same old garbage. However, they are now recycling judges well past their use-by date.

Sharon Osbourne is to return to the show at the cost of £1.5million.

April 22 explosion Sharon

There she is, in a recycled pic I posted last year when I blew her up.

It’s ironic. Sharon Osbourne, a person with absolutely no showbiz talent, judging a showbiz talent show.

That wraps up my recycling for this week.

Hope you have a better week than I’ve been having lately but for now, I’m off to the bottle bank to avoid being told off by my local council

Cheers.

Nick

A curse on Ye …

I have often wondered if there is somebody, somewhere, sticking pins in an Antony N Britt doll.

May 12 - Voodoo Doll © Antony N Britt

You see, things … happen to me. If there is bad service to be had, I will get it. If something can go wrong, it will go wrong, as four years worth of Sunday Roasts will testify. However, it is not just confined to myself. I recall a number of years back, an incident with my brother. He hadn’t been on a train for nearly twenty years whereas I’d been delayed by them daily during that time (Yes, mine were always late or cancelled). My brother had to go on a course in London, so he broke his absence of train rides one morning but got no further that the edge of town when he had to leave the train as a tree fell on it. I remember it now. It was on the local news and you could see him with many others, trudging along the line with his suitcase in hand. So it’s not just me and maybe, it is the Britt name which is cursed. This was reaffirmed this week when my eldest son was involved in a very near miss.

He was inside a bus stop, obviously waiting for one when the screech of tyres and crashing of metal alerted him to the motor vehicle sailing through the air like a scene from Final Destination.

Thankfully, he moved quick and was only trapped by his foot as the car landed upside down, demolishing the bus shelter he was in.

Perry Barr Fire Station Bus Crash

Above is a picture blatantly swiped from the Facebook page of Birmingham Updates. However, thanks to Perry Barr Fire Service for getting him out and for the good treatment he received from all the emergency services at the scene.

Not so, Sandwell Hospital. Chris was taken there, waited hours and after an X-Ray, was sent packing without any kind of dressings or a walking aid to support him. Days later, he’s still in pain and couldn’t put any weight on the foot. Remind me never to have an accident requiring treatment while in Sandwell.

He’s recovering. A real lucky escape but I am sorry to say, Chris, welcome to the world of being a Britt. Be prepared for things like this. Always add extra time to your journeys, carry a first aid kit and make sure you have a backup meal at home for the inevitable when the restaurant you go to serves up a pile of manure. Plus, wear a hard hat for the next time you encounter a low-flying car while trying to catch a bus.

God, help us.

Apparently, Michael Jackson was trying to get in touch with the afterlife when he took the jabs which killed him.

May 12 - Michael Jackson This is It

Success rate of 100%, then, don’t you think?

Does fame turn everybody into idiots?

And he was not alone …

Former Eastender star and one time drug addict, Danniella Westbrook has claimed she once spoke to God while under the influence of cocaine. The experience strengthened her faith and she talked about it on the religion propaganda show, Songs of Praise.

May 12 - Danniella Westbrook

Okay, Danniella, who else did you speak to while off your head? Elvis, Mother Teresa … or did you go the whole hog and see Lord Nelson fighting the Loch Ness Monster in your garden pond?

Talking of Nelson …

A memo sent by Admiral Nelson on the eve of the Battle of Trafalgar is expected to fetch a few thousand. In the note, Nelson speaks of all things, about a worry over onions.

May 12 - Lord Nelson

Hmmm … He’d have been better to have spent more time worrying about the skills of a French marksmen on the Redoubtable.

Faux-pas of the week.

Having been told they were getting a talk on piracy, members of the Parkham branch of the Women’s Institute dressed themselves up as swashbucklers to make a joke of the situation. However, faces turned as red as their bandanas when the speaker turned out to be Captain Colin Darch who was present to speak about his kidnap by Somalian Sea Bandits.

Can’t help laughing. He’s there recounting his ordeal of imprisonment and torture, and the women are all dressed like Captain Pugwash.

May 12 - Captain Pugwash

Have a good week, all.

Hope to see you again, and be careful, especially if you are waiting for a bus.

Cheers.

Nick

A busy schedule and a road trip.

You may have noticed the absence of a Sunday Roast last week. This was because it was my rest day, and that was smack bang in the middle of the shift pattern from hell. On that day off, I went to see David at his college in Wales and stop over for his review the next day.

After doing a long shift and travelling over 100 miles to see him, though, what does he want? Yes, I have to drive a further 40+ miles as he wishes to ride on the Blaenau Ffestiniog to Porthmadog Railway.

Once there, you’d have thought I’d asked the impossible of the ticket collector when I tried to pay on the train as we had to jump on quick in order to catch it.

It’s a lovely journey, though. Well, it would have been but for the rain. However, this was Wales. It always rains in Wales.

I do admit, I made a mistake now catching that earlier train and opting to spend three hours in Porthmadog as there is … well, nothing there. Totally bugger all to see once you’ve had a look at the trains.

Blaenau Ffestiniog to Porthmadog Railway © Antony N Britt

We did find a half decent cafe to eat in and it was entertaining to watch the young lass on the counter have to pull up her trousers every two seconds as they kept falling down. However, it was soon a case of asking the unheard of, again. David wanted chicken nuggets but the menu only had them as a kids meal. That meant David was only going to be given four of them. I asked if they could do a further four and I’d pay an extra couple of quid but no, apparently that was too hard. I did think of buying two kids nugget meals but by then, it was a matter of principle.

Don’t think I’ll go to Porthmadog again. There was a tiny shed which said that it held the Maritime Museum and there was also a model railway fair, billed as taking place … next week. Couldn’t help laughing at the below attraction which we passed during several walks up and down the street to kill time.

The World's Worst Crazy Golf Course © Antony N Britt

Yes, the world’s most boring and basic crazy golf attraction. It’s a strip of tarmac with a few obstacles stuck on. And I was expected to pay for that? No thanks.

And the traffic rumbles on.

Previously on the Sunday Roast …

I spoke of my irritation on motorways and how I get held up by cretins in heavy goods vehicles who hog the middle lane as they take two years to overtake another heavy goods vehicle in the inside one.

IMGP8932

Yes, that sort of thing. It was just a theory when I wrote it but being fresh in the memory and taking my road trip, I kept an eye out and found it’s so true.

Every time I came across a slowing of traffic and a little congestion, I found the answer at the front of the problem. Two bloody lorries playing cat and mouse as they overtook one another.

Arrrggghhh! Keep to the inside lane. You only save a few minutes on your journey by doing this madness and you cause problems for other drivers.

My brain is dying.

The reason – At work, I have had the misfortune to be subjected to Heart FM … at great lengths. Okay, not as bad as some stations but Kerrang, it ain’t. The odd good track but mostly middle of the road bilge. And if there is one song I hate, it’s that Michael Jackson oldie – Smooth Criminal.

May 5 - Michael Jackson Smmoth Criminal

Annie are you okay, are you okay Annie? Annie are you okay, are you okay Annie? Annie are you okay …? And he goes on and on and on, asking the same question.

Annie, for Christ’s sake, just answer the bloody man so we can get on and hear a decent song.

What kind of moron gives a loaded weapon to a five-year-old?

Answer: The kind who is allowed to by law.

Toy ones are scary enough but hey, some folk think they have the right to blow each others brains out. Whatever happened to giving kids a Johnny Seven and be done with it?

May 5 - Johnny Seven One Man Army Toy Gun

And a postscript to Thatcher’s funeral.

May 5 - Margaret Thatcher Spitting Image

I’ve made my feelings clear on the woman without, I hope, stooping to the distaste of some. However, in times of hardship, it was, I think, too much money to be spent on a state funeral for somebody who caused so much misery to the people now forced to fork out once more to bury her.

Apparently it didn’t cost as much as anticipated. For the taxpayer, it was only 6p per person.

Still too blooming much. She took enough off me back in the 80s. I want my money back on this one.

No more road trips for a while.

One .. I’m working. I’m posting this in the spare ten minutes between shifts. Two … David has made sure my fuel allowance for the next month has been eaten up in one big meal. I could raise some money, I suppose. Yeah, to purchase a car park, stick a few loose bricks around it and call it a crazy golf attraction. Sorted.

Cheers.

Nick

Shooting Ghosts, another short story of mine, got an honourable mention in the Darker Times Monthly Competition for April. It is available on the Darker Times website by clicking the link.

Link to Shooting Ghosts (Via Darker Times Fiction).

Darker Times

Cheers.

Nick

I mentioned recently that I’d had two stories achieve some success in Darker Times Fiction. Both are still available to read via the Darker Times website with the links on the Published Online page, but they are now also in print.

The two stories: The Monster Who Lives in the Cellar and Trick or Treat are published in Darker Times Anthology Volume Three.

Copies can be purchased by clicking this link.

Darker Times Anthology Volume 3

Cheers.

Nick

This week, the Forest Art Centre is home to a murder mystery musical from Aldridge Musical Comedy Society: Thursday 25 to Saturday 27 April (7.30pm plus 2.30pm Saturday Matinee),

For over 40 years, AMCS has been putting out quality performances and Deduction, will be no exception. Written by musical director Ben Batt, this original production pays homage to murder mysteries of old.

Great detective, Noel Uckholmes is invited to a fancy dress ball in order to witness the reading of the last will and testament of Lady Stourbridge, a woman killed in suspicious circumstances. Each of those gathered is not only a potential beneficiary, but also suspect for the murder and as the evening progresses, we find she is not the only one to meet a sticky end. But will you be able to deduct whodunnit?

The show is at Forest Art Centre, Hawbush Lane, Leamore, WS3 1AG. Tickets are £10/adult & £8/Concessions with a family bundle (2+2), £30. They can be obtained by calling 0845 111 2898 or by going to the AMCS website.

www.aldridgemcs.co.uk.

Deduction - Aldridge Musical Comedy Society

Cheers.

Nick

Adjust the Tracking

In your own world,
smiling.
People look at you
very strange.
What goes on inside that head
which appears confused to us?
Perhaps it is we, the unusual
and you, correct.
Rational.
We can only gape in awe,
wondering how you cope.
You glance at us,
see madness,
frustrate at our disabilities.
What’s the matter with our world
that everything seems so weird?
There is nothing amiss.
You are a vinyl record
playing at the wrong speed.
Tracking needing adjustment
so we can understand a happy soul
content in his own universe.

© Antony N Britt

Autism Awareness Day 2 April 2012

An explanation.

I have been absent of late. There are reasons which will become clear so I want to get the ball rolling again with a tribute to the most fantastic person I’ve ever met. My mom. So, a little belatedly … A Happy Mother’s Day, with flowers from one of your favourite holiday spots. Roundham Head, Paington.

Roundham Head, Paington © Antony N Britt

Speaking of holidays …

Some people have a good sense of direction. Unfortunately, not my mom. The reality was never more evident than on a break, way back in 1977 when both she and my nan got lost in the Ocean Hotel in Brighton. To be fair, it was a massive hotel which had over 300 rooms and it is understandable people could get confused. However, add the fact my mom could get lost in a caravan, then you had a recipe for disaster. It didn’t help she was with my aging nan at the time, who was even worse than Mom.

Still, they set out from the restaurant one morning to make their way back to the bedroom. The rest of us followed a while later and were surprised to find both of them missing. Therefore, search parties were sent out and we split into groups to begin combing the area.

A good half-hour passed until finally, I heard hysterical laughter coming from the other end of the staff quarter corridors and there they were, doubled up after taking a wrong turn and ending wandering aimless before being caught lurking near the rooms of the entertainment staff.

Okay, it was an easy mistake to make and I am reminded of my adventure within the catacombs of the Aldelphi Hotel in Liverpool. How history repeats.

Clearing the clutter.

I left home a good 25 years ago. When I moved, a fair number of boxes of clutter which had accumulated during my childhood and early twenties, remained at my mom’s house. All this got shoved up the loft to gather dust for many a year until it had to come down for insulation to be fitted. For years, my mom badgered me to sort it out and remove the items as they more or less took up half of my old bedroom. I never did, though and she got round the problem by every now and then, giving me small piles of objects which she said I may want.

I was in my own loft the other day and found the last lot she gave to me. A football annual from 1971, newspaper cuttings and a certificate to say I trained my dog in 1984. This said the dog could walk in a straight line without deviating and trying shag somebodies leg. Finally, there was a card which congratulated me on passing my driving test in 1982.

I only recently sussed that after much pleading, she’d decided I was never going to take the stuff so she adopted the policy of stealth. She would feed it to me in dribs and drabs without me realising she was handing me piles of crap that I didn’t want, but wouldn’t throw away.

I always wondered where I got my devious nature from.

Don’t mess with a Britt …

To look at her, Mom didn’t look remotely threatening, but get on the wrong side, and you’d find out otherwise.

I recall an incident where a man was hurling abuse and threatening violence. My mom shouted him down, putting him in his place.

‘Oh shut up and calm down, you stupid little man,’ she said to him as he retreated to the safer haven of his car on the busy main road.

Yes, I guess I know where I get my ability to stand my ground from. Thanks Mom.

Don’t ever try to put one over on your parents.

I learned this valuable lesson at the age of five and it came about as I started infants school. My mom had got me kitted out in an all new uniform and in particular, a P.E kit and pumps in a hand-sewn bag (For my US friends, pumps are gym shoes and P.E is gym/sports). On my first day, pump-bag in hand, I walked into the hall where I would be doing P.E. I took one look at the gigantic climbing bars which reached up to the ceiling and thought, ‘Fuck that for a month of Sundays.’

Therefore, when the first P.E lesson came along, this five-year old had the excuse. I said I didn’t have a P.E kit. This went on for a few weeks until the day I was summoned into the headmistresses oval office. When I try to picture the head, forty-five years on, I can only see Alistair Sim as Miss Fritton in the Saint Trinian’s movies. Strange that. So perhaps that’s what she really looked like.

I explained as best as a five-year-old could, that I couldn’t pass on the letter she wanted me to take home about the lack of P.E kit, as my mom did not like getting letters. You see, I explained I did not have a P.E kit due to the fact that we couldn’t afford to buy one. I will point out at this juncture that even then, I had perfected the art of coming out with perfectly believable bullshit.

All was sorted, or so I thought until the dreadful home-time later that day when my mom came to collect me and a showdown in the headmistresses office took place. It was explained that if we could not afford things, the school would could help financially.

Mom retorted that I did have a P.E kit (which was actually on my peg in the cloakroom all the time). I will leave it to your imagination just what sort of reaction I got from Mom and how much trouble I was in. Let me just say that on rare occasions afterward, the subject of the pump bag was brought up by Mom, just to make sure I haven’t forgotten it.

Look, I was five, and the climbing frame was bloody massive. They really should not expect children that age to endure torture chambers as such. It still took them four weeks to suss me out, though, until my mom did it for them.

Out Shopping.

One of the random things I love about Mom is the way that when I accompanied her to the supermarket, I would have finished with a full trolley and she would still be on the fruit and veg, weighing up the pros and cons of different brands of apples. Another, also in the shops, would be how she used to go through all the different cakes on offer to find the one with the most cherries in as she knew I liked them. A lasting memory. What more could you want than for your mom to make sure you had the perfect slice of cake.

It was Mother’s Day, two weeks ago.

Mom was rushed into hospital the Wednesday before. She just about managed to read and enjoy her cards, commenting to the nurses, she always had lovely ones from her children. She passed away a few days later. The funeral is this Wednesday. She will be so missed.

I can’t complain. I know people who lost their parents when they were young, even some who never knew their folks. So to have Mom for nearly 50 years, I reckon I’m lucky. Still doesn’t make the hurt any less.

All I want to say is, thanks Mom, I could not have wanted for more. You are the best.

© Antony N Britt

Mom, with some dubious looking children.

Cheers.

Antony

*Signed with proper name, just for today.

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