NEW YEAR, NEW PANTS

Today’s my birthday.  This most special of all days, is a sacred day of no work (booked off 365 days in advance every year) dedicated to me and also to my most wonderful grandson who happens to share the same birthday making it doubly special.

 

Another year older

As 2025 is the Chinese Year of the Snake then I’ve made us an epic birthday cake featuring a ferocious sea snake rising majestically from cakey depths.  You can almost feel the iced sea spray on your cheeks as the scaly beast from 20,000 leagues slithers past on a fondant wave.  It’s awesome! 

Year of the Sea Snake

The perfect representation for the birthday duo – an old dragon and a little monster.  Take your pick. 

But back to more mundane matters, a pant pilgrimage to that familiar retailer of bottom coverings.  You guessed – M&S.  2025 is the Year of New Knickers so what better way to celebrate a birthday than with a nice sunny stroll into town for a spot of keck shopping.  

Now I know I’m old and spend a lot of time starting sentences with the phrase ‘When I was young, I remember a time when’ we had tellies from Radio Rentals, wore tartan Bay City Roller trousers and could buy 8 Black Jacks for a penny.  Whoops!  Call the Woke Police – she used the word BLACK.  I guess these days you’d have to refer to these as dark chewy sweets but nevertheless, you could stuff yourself silly with tuppence.  The point being that modern pants are not as I remembered from my ‘youf’.

How many could you get for a penny?

 

Cotton undies aren’t what they used to be.  For starters, the fabric is so thin you could strain your greens through it and secondly, they’re not 100% cotton but a dolly mixture of synthetics most likely to cause cancer of the butt cheeks in decades to come.  There is a myriad of styles to tickle your fancy - anything from the cheeky lap-dancer variety to the more resilient sumo wrestler nappy. 

Sexy little number

 

These days it’s substance over style.  I’m looking for something that will hold a wobbly bottom, not produce camel toe chafing or disintegrate after 3 low temperature washes.  Hopefully these will do the trick.

Ticks all the bum boxes

 

Now I’ve mentioned the word ‘washing’ then there’s the eco consideration too hence the purchase of BLACK pants or should these be re-named dark coloured under-crackers?  As we only use our washing machine for one load every week to save energy, water, pandas or anything else that needs saving then the official decree from Big Brother states that all underwear (if worn) must be washable in a colour cycle as WHITES will not get special privileges. 

On an ethical note, I see that these knickers were knocked up in Bangladesh so I do hope the £8 per pack kept a family of 16 in fruitful employment.  

As its my birthday then I’ll also be testing the aeronautics of my new kecks later on as I swing them round in the air like I just don’t care or should it be ‘pants on heads’ – remember that one kids? 

Happy new year everyone!

MERRY NHSMAS!

They’ve taken my blood, various body parts and now they’ve had my ideas!  

What better way to end the current year than with a few words on one of my favourite ranting topics – the NHS. 

NHS Christmas message

Aside from chucking more money into a service that really isn’t fit for purpose, for several months now the Government has been trawling the nation’s cranial seabed for ideas that might help patch up ailing health and care services.  A consultation web site Change NHS Online Platform was specially set up for the purpose of gathering feedback from all four corners of the land.  

https://www.gov.uk/government/news/government-issues-rallying-cry-to-the-nation-to-help-fix-nhs

Move over folks, keyboard commando coming through!  Being a frequent NHS flyer, I’ve had plenty of first-hand experience of waiting around in over-heated, under-staffed hospitals in the quest to find a solution to my long-term neck problem.  I’ve been more than happy to stick my oar in and have lovingly wrapped some of my best suggestions in sparkly tinselly paper ready for Wes to joyfully tear open on Christmas Day.

Specially for you Wes

As I see it, the NHS’s new 10-year plan should not be dumping any more care into the community (we all remember where that got us) or going digital as ill people are quite frankly sick of Apps but should instead be focussing its efforts to come up with the best approach that answers these three patient questions:

• 1)    What’s wrong with me?
• 2)    Can I be fixed?
• 3)    How long will it take?

When we’re not well, these are the key priorities swirling around in our germ-filled, pain riddled, I’m-not-putting-it-on minds.  People don’t want to consult Dr Google, wonder if there’s a cure the health service can afford or wait a millennia to get it. 

Pouring billions into meaningless preventative information campaigns is just a waste of time and money.  People are still going to get sick because some conditions like cancer are still going to happen regardless of how many leaflets are printed or how many ‘teaching granny to suck eggs’ lectures we have to listen to.  Rather than doling out paracetamol and plasters, properly fund hospices or interim convalescence care.  But you won’t, will you? 

Meanwhile, as we sit and wait at least 10 years for what I suspect will be a ‘no change there then’ NHS plan, here’s this year’s specially penned Christmas carol to see out what can only be described as another truly horrible year: 

 

Good King Wes has to go out

Visit his friend Stephen.

Ride the rail replacement bus

On roads that are uneven.

Brightly thronged the ‘Spoons that night

‘Cos A & E was too full.

When an old man came in sight

Lost his winter fu uuuhh el.

 

Merry Christmas readers!

Joy to the world

 

TOILET TRAUMA

Too much information and none of it of any use! Have you noticed how useless Google searches have become? I’m trying to find the world’s smallest toilet for my downstairs cloakroom and searches bring up everything but. If I ask for toilets with short projections of less than 450 mm then that’s what I want, stupid machine. I don’t want to see anything else!!

Roper Rhodes Zest - the shortest projection toilet around

Hang on, I’m probably jumping the gun a bit here. I haven’t set my search criteria into context and that brings me back to my earlier post bemoaning all things ‘broken’ or in ‘crisis’. I want a new look downstairs loo.

Dear Santa - I'd like a new loo

When you’ve got a room the size of a shoebox, there’s really not a great deal you can do with it except look for ways to make it look bigger than it is. One way to do this is to furnish it in light colours or with fittings smaller than the norm. Honey, I shrunk the bog! If only….

Now it seems that whilst houses are getting smaller and smaller, furniture and fittings are not. You wouldn’t generally give much thought to toilet sizes but get the measuring tape out and just see how far your loo sticks out. Whoa! Mine’s over 50 cms. Who’d have thought it!

That's a pretty big bog

In a room that’s only 1.64 m long, having a toilet projecting over 50 cms is going to leave your knees knocking against the back of the door. Not a problem for short arses like me but anyone with long legs is certainly going to find it cosy.

Any bigger and you'll burn your knees

In a world that claims to have ‘everything’ what it doesn’t have is back-to-wall toilets that project less than 45 cm. I’m guessing that’s because anything less would equal a hole in the ground or one of those continental ‘squatter’ type loos. You know the sort – a couple of foot marks on a ceramic plate with an aperture to aim for. Yuk! Brings back holiday memories of stinking pitstops at French fuel stations where this type of toilet was the norm. Hold your nose and think of England every time you wanted a pee. Let’s hope French lavvies have moved on from that…

Phew!  What a stink!

And whilst the search continues for a compact and bijoux bog, I’ve been keeping warm this week by ripping up flooring, chipping tiles off walls and steaming wallpaper off ceilings. My downstairs cloakroom is no more.

Al fresco lavvies trending now

Burnt up loads of calories nipping upstairs for a ‘jimmy’ and shaved a few quid off the energy bill by generating copious amounts of body heat crow-barring plasterboard off.

Tiles off

After the plumber's visit

MERRY GRINCHMAS!

The spirit of Grinchmas is alive and well in our office where the annual SS (Secret Santa) has been cancelled due to lack of funds and festiveness.

This is who I go to bed with these days

Oh well – I guess I really didn’t need any more bottles of lavender bath salts or awful fizzy prosecco in my life so I’m not that bothered but it’s the message these things send out that really gets me. Not doing a team Secret Santa just means that like everything in this life, people can’t be arsed to make the effort. Humbug!!

Finally, our tree is up. Beautifully decorated with an array of hand-sewn baubles made by yours truly, needlework is something I do when not painting walls or smashing out tiles. These days not much time to devote to the former.

The eco tree - only one half lit up

You’ll notice our tree is weirdly decorated with only the top half lit up. There I was decking the halls when I said to myself – can you smell burning? I brushed aside a piece of tinsel only to notice a small flame coming out of a tiny bulb which had melted in the heat. Quick! Turn the power off and call the Brigade whilst I’ve got the mistletoe to hand. Needless to say, not having the second set of lights will be much more ‘eco’ on the old leccy.

Looking forward to Grinchmas so I can channel my inner Scrooge and shout ‘humbug’ at the cat when it’s trying to cadge yet another belly rub as I dart about the kitchen with hot pans in hand. I’m sure one of these days I’m going to trip over the damned moggy and fracture a hip!

What time is the festive feast?

But there’s another reason I’m looking forward to Grinchmas this year and that’s because I’m off to see my all-time Yuletide favourite – The Muppet Christmas Carol as its coming to Brighton.

Coming to the Brighton Centre

For me, Christmas doesn’t truly begin until I’ve watched the DVD and sung along to all those catchy Muppet songs.  ‘There goes Mr Humbug, there goes Mr Scrooge….’  Come on, sing along now.  I know you know this one. 

So, if you’re feeling a little bit Grinchy, just stick this film on. You’ll soon be rolling in good cheer and merriment, looking for an unfeasibly large goose to stuff in the oven and an impoverished Cratchit to donate all your worldly goods to. 

Aaahh - the true spirit of Christmas!