"God Give Me Strength".

Well done to “Telefonica” once more, who have once again brought me to boiling point for the umpteenth time since I moved here. Not content with arsing me around for days on end when I first got the phone line connected (so´s I could have broadband). They have now inexplicably been round and changed my phone number, - I haven´t got the slightest inkling why they did this, everything was working fine as it was. But now of course, my internet connection has gone south and when I got in touch with the local paper who provide my connection package they sounded as baffled as me. After some thought they said that I could either try and phone them and try and get my old number back, or to keep the new number and start all over again – 5 to 10 days waiting time. I plumped for the latter, as the first option would include having one of those useless, incompetent, bumbling toe rags round here again, and frankly, if I catch sight of one of their vans outside my gaff again I´ll simply pull the curtains, hide under the sink and per chance lob a grenade out of the window.

On a lighter note I recently read Paul Daniels autobiography, which was a surprise, not least because it isn´t called “You´ll like this – but not a lot”. He´s got some good working men´s club stories in there, of which this is one –
“It was also time to change my name, Ted Daniels as it was often mis pronounced by concert secretaries as Ted-d-d Daniels (with a stutter) or it became one word – Tedaniels. A very good act called “Les Pollux” I once heard being pronounced as “Lez Bollocks” (as if it were a man´s name). When the concert secretary had his attention attracted by the band, they tried to tell him that it was in fact the French pronunciation “Lay”, and that there was two of them. - He turned back to the microphone, apologised and then announced them as “The two bollocks”.

"Has Anybody Seen My Quiche?"

The quiet week leading up to Easter and resultant sparse work commitments meant me going back to Blackpool and being acquainted with my girlfriend´s new dog – he´s the biggest pup I´ve ever laid eyes on - a sort of Pit Pony/hearth rug cross called Rigsby. He´s quite an endearing chap actually and fairly agile for his size has he proved when managing to scoop out the leftover half of my cheese and onion flan off the top of the oven when I wasn´t looking.


Also in Blackpool were Nigel and Yvonne from the Cumberland Bar and we met up for a livener in the British Legion on Friday afternoon, this short liaison was stretched to a walk down the road to the “Catholic Club” on Queens Street where a delightfully grumpy Glaswegian bloke kept us entertained as he battled the drunken locals who were coerced by him into a game of “Hoy” which is a sort of playing card bingo with no rules (or so it seemed to us). Whilst on our travels we bumped into a couple of our members from the Cumberland Ex-Servicemen´s Club –“ Jimmy kneecaps” and “Jukebox” Johnny. – Much laughter and jollity ensued and we just sort of lost track of time.

Unfortunately for me the day after was set aside for a house removal of Nikki´s gear from a flat in the town centre to a house on an estate in Bispham and, as I´d woken up feeling awful and gradually deteriorated from there, I was eventually reduced to a shambling (and retching) wreck and she was lucky that the new sofa bed arrived in the same colour that it was when it set off.

The wonderful array if characters in England´s premier tourist spot constantly amuse me, and apart from the eccentric oddballs found in the clubs, I bumped into a chap ambling down the street with a ferret on his shoulder. And do you know what, - I´m not certain that he knew it was there.

Back in Benidorm now where tomorrow night I look forward to trying to entertain the backs of necks of the massed ranks in “Sinatras” as they crane their heads towards the Manchester United Bayern Munich champions league quarter final being played out on the widescreen television to stage left. I can´t wait.