Am I safe?

.

This Christmas I’ve been invited by a local school to take the organ round for a burst of carolling.

Am I safe?

Can I be trusted to play for the parents and children?

Years ago there would have been none of this suspicion with everybody being ‘guilty’ unless they could prove themselves innocent.

I haven’t been told that I do need checking but many people in other parts of the country have.

.

.

New rules state that from next year people working with children “frequently” will have to be vetted and registered. Until the registration scheme comes into force, government advice to schools is that checks should be carried out only on parents whose volunteer work brings them into contact with children at least three times a month.

Three times a month sounds a reasonable cut off point.

But……

Some schools are opting to err on the side of caution and are enforcing vetting systems for one-off activities.

The school here in Bourne End obviously realises that Christmas is a ‘once a year’ activity!

However not all…….

A primary school headmaster at Somerton in Cambridgeshire, said checks on the two dozen parents volunteering to walk his 330 pupils to the carol service at nearby St John’s church on December 17 were necessary — even though they will be accompanied by teachers and a police community support escort.

A primary school in Norwich is insisting on the checks for parents who want to attend its Christmas disco.

Some schools require checks on parents who volunteer to walk with children from the school to post letters to Father Christmas.

I think this sets up a really negative relationship which can put off adults and gives the children the message that either adults don’t want to be involved in their lives at all, or that all adults have got to be mistrusted and you can’t have faith in anybody.

All of the parents should organise their own event for the kids & ban the teachers from attending. See how they like not being trusted

"No gravy and po-TAH-toes"

.

That wasn't a very good picture of the sheet music on Tuesday...difficult to read the small print.

I have tried to blow up the text parts. It's about an 18-day diet from Hollywood in 1929.

.

.

This song was claimed to be "The Greatest Novelty Hit" since "Yes, we have No Bananas".

Fancy writing a song today about a diet.

.

.

Monday, grapefruit, breakfast and for dinner,

And at night some orange juice.

Tuesday, grapefruit, boys I'm growing thinner,

All my clothes are getting loose.

Wednesday, Thursday, I feel satisfied,

Then I change to coffee,

with grapefruit on the side;

Friday till Sunday is more than I can stand,

Before the eighteenth day,

I'll have a lily in my hand!

My wife is on a Diet, and since she's on a Diet,

Home isn't home anymore.

No gravy and po-TAH-toes,

Just lettuce and tomatoes,

Where are the pies I adore?

Oh! oh! oh! oh! What a disgrace,

I'm ashamed to look a grapefruit straight in the face.

My wife is on a diet,

And since she's on a Diet,

I'm loosing a pound every day.

.

I don't want to boar you but...

.

Broadband went down this morning right in the middle of my early morning blogging.

Went through all the usual checks and then ended on BT helpline. Put on hold whilst they told me how important my call was to them! Yes, only if I am paying for the call.....which used to be the case. It was an 0845 number but has now been changed to a free 0800. And so it should be as I got tired of waiting after 10 minutes and gave up.

Well, I was all out of routine so I decided to go up to ASDA for an early start and at least get half the weekly shop out of the way. (I do the other half at Sainsbury).

When I got back it was on again but I've forgotten what I was writing about, so I shall have to call on Gert and Daisy for a joke.....take it away girls.

.

.

Daisy was chatting over the gate to her very best friend Gertrude and told her about the goings on at the weekend.

It appeared the farmer asked his 8 year old son to take Daisy to the farm at the other side of the village where they had a ‘ready and willing’ boar.

On the way they met the vicar.

“Where are you going?” he said to the boy.

“I’m taking the sow to the boar, vicar.”

“Couldn’t your father or elder brother do it, or ....can I help?”

“No, sorry vicar.”

“It has to be the boar.”

.

I suppose I should post up the Boar's Head Carol, but I think as I'm in a rush I'll give it a miss.

.

"Heavy thighs of Relief"

.

Some months ago I was reading the blog of a charming young lady who was always trying to reduce the size of her……well, how shall I put it?…upper legs.

From now on there is no need to worry my friend.

“Women with skinny model-like thighs have a higher risk of heart disease and premature death than those with an average build.” a study claims!

(Where would we be without all these studies?)

.

.

Researchers found that people with a thigh circumference less than 24 inches (60cm) are more likely to develop coronary disease and die early than those with more chunky thighs.

(Their words, not mine)

However, the study, published in the British Medical Journal, also concluded that “Once you get above the 24 ins limit, there was no major benefit in having even wider legs.”

I beg your pardon, did I read that right?

Yes, it was what they said!

And see, I even have some sheet music.......

.

.

And then they went on to say:-

“The relationship between thigh size and early death and disease was even found after taking body fat and other high risk factors, such as smoking and high cholesterol, into account.”

The authors therefore suggest “That the risk from narrow thighs could be associated with too little muscle mass in the region.”

“This is problematic because it may lead to low insulin sensitivity and type 2 diabetes and, in the long run, heart disease,” they explain.

And what was the headline….

Thunder thighs could protect against heart disease and early death.

A cheeky picture for......someone's hubby!

.

.

And I think....a little dittie...

There was a young lady from Cheadle

Who sat down in church on a needle

Though deeply embedded

'twas happily threaded

And she had it removed by the Beadle !

.

Upon my Soul

.

.

Warwickshire County Council offers a service allowing “older people” to bring in their old slippers and replace them with a pair, which it claims can cut the risk of falling over.

For a fee of £5, participants receive a fitting session, a new pair of the Velcro fastening slippers, and advice on how to don them and avoid accidents around the home.

It has also been disclosed that the firm which makes the special slippers charges local authorities £3 a pair – £2 less than the council charges.

Matthew Elliott, Chief Executive of the TaxPayers' Alliance, said: “It is astonishing that while the council claim they have your best interests at heart by providing these slippers, they then fleece you for more than the manufacturer is charging.”

I have no problem in trying to reduce accidents, but to make a profit from the sale shows the council has no ‘soul’!

I wonder if the new slippers are marked 'left' and 'right' - just so they know which slipper goes where!

What do you think of my new slippers?

.

.

Another little tale, again in Warwickshire.

The local Police Community Support Officers in Solihull were handing out clip on bells for the old folk in the summer. The idea was that the bell was attached to the purse or handbag and any movement was rewarded with a crisp tingling noise.

The local supermarket, reported that on Thursdays, (when the pensioners were paid) it sounded like an invasion of Morris dancers.

The idea was that if they got mugged the bell would ring as the suspect made of with the purse! Of course the mugger would have to be thick to realise the bell could be removed by unclasping the bell clip.

And now for a song.......

.

.

This song was written by the black American, James Bland. James was born in 1854, attended High school in Washington and then went on to Howard University to study law.

As a light relief from his studies, he took to learning the banjo and earned a little pocket money from his performances.

He enjoyed music so much that he gave up his studies and joined a troupe of ’black faced’ minstrels. Ludicrous as it now seems, it was required for black people to assume make up when they appeared in minstrel shows.

He wrote at least 600 songs for himself and other minstrel performers, some of whom published his work as their own.

In 1881 he left America for Europe where he remained until 1900. By then, the vogue for Minstrel Shows was over and he died penniless in 1911.

.

Stuff your "Happy Holiday"

.

I was pleased to see that my first Christmas card this year was from no other than ‘Dear Old Royal Mail’ itself. They informed me of all the dates for ‘last posting’ and wished me a “Merry Christmas.”

I also noticed that this card had been sent to all 26 million household.

A nice gesture, but I did wonder if all those occupying those homes would have similar thoughts?

Ten out of ten to Royal Mail for not giving in to the PC brigade.

I expect the “Politicallycorrectomometers” to shatter their dials through massive overloading.

On the other side of the fence, we have David Cameroon sending out “Seasons Greetings”, We have councils holding “Festival of Lights” (Oxford I think for one), we have “Winter Festivals” and even a church here in Bourne End is holding a “Yuletide Fair”.

Two out of ten to them all…..and they can share it out amongst themselves.

.

.

As we approach Christmas, I believe we should remember our traditions which underpin our culture and society. Whatever our religious beliefs, let us defend the Nativity Play, the Christmas carol services, the words "Merry Christmas". Let us not slip further down the path of irrational and irresponsible political correctness by replacing Christmas greetings with the vacuous "Happy Holidays". Let us remember our traditions of tolerance, hospitality, respect for others, compassion, courage and love - and in so doing, uphold our heritage.

.

.

By all means, send cards to whoever you like, with whatever words you like and yes, lots of pictures of cats and chickens but……

I think “Christmas Cards” should have the word “Christmas” on them.

.

Laughter - A Wonderful Medicine

.

.

I have quite a number of copies of music given away free by companies advertising their products. Many were included in newspapers or magazines. A hundred years ago nearly every front room had its piano and so a free song or two was most welcome.

However todays bit is not about 'freebies' but about parodies. Particularly those on carols.

There are, or were, literally dozens and I expect you all have your favourites.

They were all 'in jest' and I am sure were in no way meant to be disrespectful or offensive.

Here are a couple you may have not heard before.

This first one dates back to the First World War when the ‘in joke’ was:-

“What is the difference between Lord Kitchener and a Beechams Pill?”

“One sends you out to the front and the other sends you out to the back.”

.

.

So it was either the Western Front or the Outside Loo!

Hark the jelly babies sing,

Beechams Pills are just the thing.

They are gentle, meek and mild,

Two for a man and one for a child.

If you want to go to heaven,

You must take the dose of seven!

If you want to go to hell,

Take the blinkin’ box as well!

If you want to go to hell,

Take the blinkin’ box as well!

This next one is from WW2..... at the time of the London Blitz.

It was a time when many songs were cleverly parodied…..here’s just two verses.

Good King Wenceslas looked out

On the Feast of Stephen.

When the sirens warbled out,

On note uneven:

Loudly roared the guns that night,

The barrage was a snorter;

When the warden came in sight,

Carrying sand and water.

“Hither stooge come stand by me

If you know your telling,

Have you got a stirrup pump

Handy in your dwelling?”

“Sire there’s sand out round the bend,

Higher than a mountain,

We can work the stirrup pump

From St. Agnes Fountain.”

.

I leave you with this thought.......

Are Santa's helpers all subordinate clauses?

.

Hallelujah!

"A choir-singing pensioner trapped in a hospital toilet was freed after singing the chorus to his favourite song, Handel's Hallelujah. "

George Hudson started singing after the emergency chord failed to work despite three tugs.

The 80-year-old, who was at the Kent and Sussex Hospital in Tunbridge Wells for a hip replacement operation, was then rescued.

"I pulled the red chord and I got no response," he said. "I thought, oh well, it's coming up to Christmas, so I gave them the opening verse of the Hallelujah chorus. The doors then opened very quickly.”

Mr Hudson, who sings with his local choir, said he did not blame staff for the equipment failure after he got stuck in the cubicle with just his Zimmer frame.

The married octogenarian has performed with the Cranbrook and District Choral Society since he was 27.

A spokesman for the hospital apologised for not answering Mr Hudson's call sooner.

The spokesman said: "We wish George all the very best for the future and apologise for not answering his call sooner by more traditional means."

I think that is a lovely tale with a happy ending.

I can just visualise him standing there with his Zimmer singing Hallelujah!

Now somewhere I have the music, not very interesting.......

.......but this is.

This, is I promise you, is very funny.

The intro is far too long so if you wish fast forward to 1:40.

Slow to start.....but wait until it does!

.

"Jibbery Dick"

.

.

My poor ears have been subject to endless renditions of "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" from plastic santa's, singing Christmas trees and Asda's PA systems. Everywhere, plastic decorations, plastic reindeer and 'plastic' music.

Well, I for one, am not dreaming of a white Christmas, I'll leave that to the BN party. I am dreaming of a "Dreamy Devon" for a certain blogger who can't get to sleep.

I have left several suggestions on her site but none seem to work. So as a last resort, before attempting to sing her to sleep, I suggest the following very old remedy from the Lake District.

Counting Sheep!

But you must count them in the old traditional way. No cheating!

Eeny Teeny Ethery Feathery Fino,

1....... 2...... 3 .......4....... 5

O-thery Mo-thery Co-thery Jibbery Dick,

6 .......7 ......8...... 9 .......10

Eendick Teendick Etherdick Featherdick Bumpit

1+10........ 2+10....... 3+10....... 4+10 ......15

Eenbump Teenbump Etherbump Featherbump Jickett.

1+15 .......2+15....... 3+15....... 4+15....... 20

I've put the numbers underneath, just to make it clear!

If this doesn't bore you to sleep......nothing will. ROFL

.

Bushel, Bushel….Sacksful.

.

I thought I may go out and wassail the old apple tree tonight.

No firing of shotguns through the branches though, just a few kind words and to drink it’s health for next seasons apples.

.

.

In some parts of the country the guns were used to wake the trees so that they would hear the stimulating message of the songs that were about to be sang to them, and bonfires were lit to scare off evil spirits.

Now in Devon, being a county famous for its cider, the farmers take all this very seriously as their livelihood depends on a good crop of cider apples.

Then, the men would encircle the tree and with large jugs of cider, toast the trees three times reciting the following:

Here’s to thee, old apple tree,

Whence thou may’st bud,

and when though may’st blow!

And whence thou may’st bear apples now!

Hatsful! Capsful!

Bushel, bushel….sacksful,

And my pocketsful too!

Huzza!

.

.

Cupfuls of cider were thrown over the branches and pieces of toast soaked in cider were lodged in the tree for the orchard spirits to ensure a good crop for next year.

The toast is supposed to attract the birds and when they’ve eaten it, they stay on to eat any insects lurking in the bark.

On second thoughts…..I’ll drink the cider and eat the toast with a nice coating of Marmite!

And look, even Marmite jars are telling jokes now!

.

.

However....I still LOVE sprouts.

.

Today is the 1st of December, perhaps we should call it

"Loss of Independence Day"?

This morning the eu will at last have the supreme government it has wanted for so long – unelected, unaccountable and, as even its own polls show, less popular with those it rules over than ever before. But what do the politicians care? They have the power, and we now have a government we can never dismiss.

The eu is a corrupt dictatorship wearing the clothes of a democracy.

.

.

Just five of the many things we lost at midnight.

1. Habeas corpus ad subjiciendum. Latin for "you may hold the body subject to examination". This undeniable right protects one from the state.

2. Courts de jure. Latin for "courts by jury". We have some 70 courts in our land geared for jury trials. Today your right to be judged by a jury of your peers evaporates completely.

3. Innocent until proven guilty. This morning we start playing a whole new game whereby you, the accused, are guilty until you can prove your innocence.

4. Loss of sovereignty. Under the eu our sovereignty is dead and buried. No more English, no more Scots, no more Irish, no more Welsh. We are all european now.

5. Democracy. From the Greek demokratia-power to the people. This morning we give away this unique method of rule for an oligarchy. Mandarins in Europe are not elected. They are selected.

.

.

However....I still LOVE sprouts.

I got that stick, by the way, in Sainsburys for only a pound!

.

"R O F L "

.

.

I had to ask what ROFL stood for the other day. I'm afraid I'm not quite up to speed with all this modern texting and stuff. The only ones I remember from earlier days were SWALK and NORWICH which was written on the back of envelopes!

.

.

Well, I learnt ROFL was "Rolls on floor laughing" so as I'd left a joke in the comments I was quite relieved.

It also gave me an idea for todays bit......Music Rolls.

I found this piano roll in the local charity shop for 50p. A bargain? Not really. I don't have a pianola to play it on, but it seemed such an unusual roll as it had the words to the music written vertically so that the child could sing along whilst pedalling.

.

.

More 'junk' to require a home. I ought to open a museum!

Now the winter is upon us with a vengeance, I tuck myself up in the warm and arrange and punch up a few more tunes. Of course before you can do this you need rolls.....and lots of them.

Being unable to buy these off the shelf we have to make do with what is available and convert it.

I use Fax rolls myself which come in useful 40 metre lengths.

The problem is they are too wide, so the first job is to cut them down to 115mm wide with a saw.

.

.

The roll is then transferred to the lathe where I take two cuts to take it down to 110mm.

.

.

It always amazes me that the paper does not fly all over the place. I just parts off in a nice little 'coolie hat'.

Just a quick check...........

.

.

110.03mm

That's less than a hair's breadth over...excellent

.

South Of The Border

.

O come with me, Ghosts walk tonight,
Victims of bloody border fight
Who made our English history,
Grey phantom Percies lead the way
Against the Douglas chivalry,
Grey ghosts of ancient mystery.

.

.

Recently I've been reading about Northumberland on Cherry Pie's blog.

It looks a facinating place.

I have been 'north of the border' many times, but seem to have always, quite literately, flown over the actual border and its regions. I guess I should have taken my fathers advice and paid it a visit. He always loved walking and this was one of his favourite regions.

As England's 'Border County', it is not surprising that many great battles have been fought on Northumbrian soil between the English and the Scots. Most notable were the battles at Otterburn (1388) and at Flodden Field (1513), but there were many other lesser known battles and Border feuds fought in Northumberland. Until the Union of the English and Scottish Crowns in 1603 life in the Border County could be extremely dangerous and was often a one of strife and misery.

The only music that spring to mind is:-

"South Of The Border (Down Mexico Way)"

South of the border, down Mexico way.

That's where I fell in love where stars above, came out to play.

And now as I wonder, my thoughts ever stray.

South of the border, down Mexico way.

Sorry no sheet music cover today.........but on the subject of borders:-

There seems to be quite a large variation in welcoming parties for illegal immigrants at border crossings....

North Korean border, you get 12 years' hard labour.

Iranian border, you are detained indefinitely.

Afghan border, you get shot.

Saudi Arabian border, you will be jailed.

Chinese border, you may never be heard from again.

Russian border, you will be branded a spy and your fate will be sealed.

Cuban border, you will be thrown into political prison to rot.

UK Border, you get

Free healthcare

An unearned income

A home

Free education for your kids

Furnishings for your home

Free dentistry

Free use of an infra-structure paid for by the toil and taxes of previous generations

The free use of all social facilities

Free translation services

Agencies that will help you settle in

Free round the clock police protection

You will find the law is weighed in your favour

And I expect you'd like a 'border' joke to finish...

A young boy arrived late for school.

“Why are you late, Norman?“ asked the teacher.

“I’m sorry, miss, but I had to get my own breakfast today.”

“All right, Norman. Settle down. We are doing geography and here is a map of Asia. Can you tell me where the Pakistan border is?”

“Yes miss, in bed with Mum. That’s why I had to get my own breakfast.”

.

I Drink it when I’m Happy.

.

"Drinking Songs".....There must be hundreds, but they all seem to be - Beer Drinking Songs.

They range from "Down at the Old Bull and Bush" to "Roll Out the Barrel".

.

.

I was after a wine drinking song, but no luck. So can you pretend the above is a Wine Barrel?

Now what is all this about?

“British households are pouring £470 million worth of wine down the plughole every year.”

And has someone asked every British household?

No? …..so where does this figure come from?

The figure has been collated for the Waste & Resource Action Programme (Wrap) as advisers to the Government.

Latest data shows that 1.8 million tonnes of food and drink from households end up in sewers, of which some 1.5 million tonnes of waste, valued at £2.7 billion, could have been avoided through better storage or planning.

And has someone asked every British household?

No? …..so where do these figure come from?

According to diaries kept by 319 households across the country the most wasted drink is milk, followed by fizzy soft drinks and then fruit juices and smoothies. Together they account for almost half of all avoidable waste by the 319 households.

So they select 319 households, read what they claim to throw away and then extrapolate to come up with a ludicrous figure for the total country of 26 million households!

.

.

And, by the way, WRAP are urging people to “freeze leftover wine and use it in cooking sauces and casseroles as part of the campaign to cut the nation’s carbon footprint.”

I think they may find that some people (like DD & me) do not have leftover wine.

I challenge them to find any waste wine in my drain, though as with most statistics of this type, I suspect it is largely made up. There is no way anybody can possibly know the true figure, and asking even 1000 homes doesn't give you a true national average. I don't throw away any leftovers, I freeze them or just put them in a tub and eat it the next day.

You can’t beat good old “Bubble ‘n Squeak”.

And..... Wine.

I drink it when I’m happy and when I’m sad;

Sometimes I drink it when I’m alone;

When I have company, I consider it obligatory.

I trifle with it if I’m not hungry and drink it when I am.

Otherwise I never touch it........Unless I’m thirsty !

And to finish....

A man went to see his doctor because his hands kept shaking.

“Do you drink much?” asked the doctor.

“No,” said the man. “I spill most of it.”

.

The Loss of a Queen

.

.

It is always sad to see bits of our past disappearing and it is equally sad to see bits of other countries past disappearing as well.

I was reading an article on the 'Sternwheelers of the Mississippi', and I was saddened to read how many of these magnificent boats are operating under the shadow of a death sentence.

It would appear that the US Safety-at-Sea laws are being applied strictly to the letter of the law and not 'the spirit'. They are applying laws that were really meant for large ocean going liners to these fine old wooden rivercraft. The expense of bringing these up to the new standard is colossal and many are being abandoned.

One such vessel is the Mississippi Queen, a sister ship to the Delta Queen shown above.

There can be few more pitiful scenes along the Mississippi than that of the once magnificent Mississippi Queen steamboat tied up at the Perry Street Wharf in New Orleans, where it is disintegrating and falling prey to looters.

Clyde Ory, a 65-year-old New Orleans native who has spent his life working on Mississippi boats and first serviced the engines and pumps of the Mississippi Queen recalled….

“Now that’s gone. All the shipping’s gone. We ain’t got no more work. It’s all gone. You see how dead it is? I remember one time you got ships lining up along this river right behind each other and over there they would be anchored, waiting to come in.”

He pointed to where a large window, now boarded up, on the vessel had been smashed by a port worker so that he could use a crane to steal a grand piano.

You may not think there is a link to music, but there is.

Just listen to this Calliope Music played by Rosalinda DeLeon at the start of the June 2006 Great Steam boat race from Baton Rouge LA to St. Louis MO.

Stirring stuff.

.

We can't afford to lose this sort of thing, can we?

.

Now there's a Cracker!

.

After being 'stumped' for a song to go with yesterdays bit on Christmas trees, I of course later thought of two!

"Gather Round the Christmas Tree" and "O Christmas Tree". The former is a relatively new one, brought out in 1991? (that was the copyright date) whilst the later is a good old traditional German Carol.

So staying on a Chrismassy theme.....but again unable to muster up some sheet music...I give you Crackers......not the ones you have with cheese, but those that contain an excuse for party hat and an even bigger excuse for a joke!

.

.

So what do we find in yesterdays papers?

"New politically-correct Christmas cracker jokes will replace the old this festive season".

PC cracker jokes......just in case someone could be offended and sue them!

Among dozens of jokes getting the boot is: 'What lies quivering at the bottom of the ocean? A nervous wreck'.

But its replacement - 'What lies in a pram and wobbles? A jelly baby' - is hardly a brave new world for comedy.

In a sign of the times, others have been axed because they are now considered politically incorrect - such as one about transvestites.

Mother-in-law jokes and schoolboys' favourites involving cruelty to animals of the 'frog in a liquidiser' variety have also been dropped.

My solution to this would be to have labels on the boxes.

You could have box of "Mother-in-Law Joke Crackers" or a box of "Irish Joke Crackers".

Those who might be offended needn't buy them.......and wouldn't be able to see the joke unless they pulled the cracker.....then in that case it was their fault and they would have no grounds to be offended.

To me the biggest laugh of all were these two 'academics' who have cushy jobs doing all this 'research'.

First off we have a Professor :-

"Garry Whannel, Professor of Media Cultures at the University of Bedfordshire, said: 'Pulling a cracker is a ritual and part of that ritual is knowing the jokes are not very good.

'It's not the quality of the humour that makes crackers fun. The pleasure of them is in the shared recognition that the jokes are groan-inducing.'..."

Do you realise he gets paid to do this!?!

Then also trying to justify his salary we have a Doctor :-

"Dr Chris Ritchie, who runs the world's only degree course in comedy, at Southampton Solent University, added: 'They have got rid of some outdated negative stereotyping by losing the mother-in-law and transvestite material, but have kept the essential corniness that we all love about cracker jokes.' ....."

After this I'll have to finish on a joke. A bit too long for Foody's hand-made crackers.

Two American ladies were touring Wales when they decided to stop for a bite to eat in the village of Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch.

One of them asked the waitress “Before we order, I wonder if you could settle an argument for us? Please can you pronounce where we are, very, very slowly?”

The girl leaned over and said…. “Burrr…..gerrrr King”

Now there's a Cracker!

(Apologies to any lovely American or Welsh ladies)

.

"I'm Stumped"

.

Professor Sir David Read, told The Times that one of the crucial findings of a recent report, was the importance of woods in river catchment areas. “Trees intercept rainfall and retain water, and one of the problems we are seeing now in the Lake District is [that] there is nothing to stop the water running off the hills,” he said. “We must look again at the contribution of forestry in the uplands and returning them in the direction they once were before we deforested them.”

.

.

And then further on I read.......

“Eight million real ‘Christmas’ trees are sold in Britain each year and the Nordmann fir has become the favourite because of its dark green needles, which do not drop.

Growers last night warned hundreds of thousands of the most popular varieties will not be available here this year - pushing up prices in the process.

The shortage is being blamed on the poor exchange rate, which makes it less profitable for foreign producers to export to Britain.”

Well I say “Good!”

Do we really have to ship dead trees around the world just for decorative purposes. There are so many excellent artificial trees available - it isn't necessary to cut down the real thing only for it to be dumped a couple of weeks later.

If you can’t abide artificial trees then it makes more sense, rather than purchasing a cut-off stump, to simply buy a small "Christmas tree" to make a permanent feature in the garden. This could then be decorated each year. Much better than wasting millions of good trees every year for a few weeks' fun.

When I was a child we had a small one growing in the garden. This was dug up each year and placed in a large pot. In those days the Christmas period started twelve days before the ‘big day’ and finished on 2nd January, so the tree was not long indoors. Of course there was no central-heating either to dry it out. It survived many years of this until it got too big for its pot.

Plastic trees are also reasonably good and have improved vastly in recent years.

It seems such a waste to kill a tree for one day's festivities.

Don’t get too upset …..this is only me and my old fashioned views.

But..........

..... out upon the hillside,

Where the Christmas trees had stood,

All was completely barren,

But for little stumps of wood.

The little trees that flourished

All the year, were there no more,

But in a million houses,

Dropped their needles on the floor.

.

Stumped?.....Yes I was stumped for sheet music,

although I did find "The Cherry Tree Carol".

.

Help!....Chicken out of Date!

I need a bit of help. Well I may need a bit of help or Foody at Singing Chicken may need it.

I noticed and she noticed that she is stuck down the bottom of my favourite blogs list. It is out of date......she has done loads of posts since then but they don't show up.

Now if I go to my "Configure Blog List"......I can see a list of names. Now one of them has a small box alongside it with a small red X on it. Yes it is 'Singing Chicken'. I have no idea what it means.

I have 'removed' her.....and added her back and still I get this 'red hot X'!

So is it something set or not set, in her configuration? ie not allowing feeds?

That little box looks like the 'feed' symbol.

This only seems to have started since her laptop needed repairing....??

Any ideas please.

.

Tom, Dick and Harry

.

Tom, Dick and Harry were lazing around telling jokes.

.

.

Tom said that yesterday he nipped down to his 24hour one-stop-shop for some bananas.

When he got there the shopkeeper was out the front locking up.

"Hey", he said, "That sign says you're open 24 hours".

"Yes", said the shopkeeper, "We are, but not necessarily all in a row!

Dick then told of a postman confronted by a small boy and a huge dog.

The postman said to the boy "Does your dog bite?"

"No," replied the boy.

Just a second later the dog sprang at the postie and bit him on the leg.

The man yelled "I thought you said your dog didn't bite?"

"He doesn't", replied the boy, "that's not my dog!"

Harry then offered up his story......

A woman walked into the kitchen to find her husband stalking around with a rolled up newspaper.

"What are you doing?", she asked.

"Hunting Flies",he responded.

"Oh. ! Killing any?", she asked.

"Yep, 3 males, 2 Females!", he responded.

Intrigued, she asked, "How can you tell them apart?"

He responded, "3 were on a beer can, 2 were on the phone!”

And did you know?

Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana

.

.

My Mother had a Flit Gun,

It was not devoid of charm.

A bit of Flit,

Shot out of it,

The rest shot up her arm!

.

They must be Barking Mad.

.

Had quite a response to "Puppy-Pie" post yesterday. I knew a few doggie lovers would be on to me like shot. Of course there may be no truth at all in the tale. I can just imagine two hundred years ago, old men sitting in the bar in "Dog and Badger" (a real pub in Medmenham by the way), telling tales and passing on tall stories. I bet some of these tales were brought up the river from London by the bargemen themselves.

So still on the Doggie theme, look what I found.

.

.

They must be Barking Mad.

"Bracknell Police came up with the idea of a 'Doggie Identity Parade'. They thought it was a good way of picking out the dog that bit a woman. They tried to force a woman savaged by a dog to pick out her attacker from a line-up of mutts."

But there is something very wrong about a dog identity parade. What if an innocent pooch were picked out by mistake?

He would have no recourse to explain himself, or give an alibi.

He would not be able to tell police he could not possibly have been in the park on the day in question, because he was locked in the utility room for making a mess on the carpet.

"In their ultimate wisdom, Bracknell Police decided on the canine collection to confirm the identity of this ladies attacker after the dog was returned to its owner.

The woman, who had to have 65 stitches after the attack and was in hospital for four days, said the identification parade was "totally ridiculous"......."

I’m not sure of the exact circumstances surrounding which dogs were included in the line up, but judging from the victim’s reaction, I’m guessing it was more a case of six different breeds rather than six dogs of the same breed. Which seems utterly ludicrous.

What’s next? A parade of cats to find which one defecated on next door’s lawn?

A line up of rabbits to identify who chewed the curtains?

Something to keep you smiling.....

I am a bunny rabbit,

Sitting in me hutch,

I like to sit up this end,

I don’t care for that end much.

I’m glad tomorrow’s Thursday,

’Cause with a bit of luck,

As far as I remember,

That’s the day they pass the buck!

.

"Puppy-pie"

.

When London’s getting hot and dry,

And half the season’s done,

To Marlow you should quickly fly,

And bask there in the sun.

There pleasant quarters you may find –

The “Angler” or the “Crown”

Will suit you well, if you’re inclined

To stay in Marlow town.

1886: A Marlow Madrigal, J. Ashby-Sterry

About three miles upstream from here is the town of Marlow.

I have to admit that I have not previously heard of Ashby-Sterry but I, and I expect most of you, have heard of the poet Shelley.

.

.

He lived in Marlow for short while and the house, still standing, is marked with one of the usual round blue plaques.

An extract from his wife’s diary states…...

"During the year 1817 we were established at Marlow, in Buckinghamshire. Shelley's choice of abode was fixed chiefly by this town being at no great distance from London, and its neighbourhood to the Thames.

Poems were written in his boat, as it floated under the beech groves of Bisham, or during wanderings in the neighbouring country, which is distinguished for peculiar beauty. The chalk hills break into cliffs that overhang the Thames, or form valleys clothed with beech; the wilder portion of the country is rendered beautiful by exuberant vegetation; and the cultivated part is peculiarly fertile."

We have a beautiful suspension bridge here at Marlow which gets a mention in a story and film and has acquired a certain notoriety in connection with a "puppy pie".

.

.

From the Railway Children by Edith Nesbitt -

"You mustn't take no notice of my Bill," said the woman;

"'is bark's worse'n 'is bite. Some of the kids down Farley way is fair terrors. It was them put 'is back up calling out about who ate the puppy-pie under Marlow bridge."

"Who did?" asked Phyllis.

"I dunno," said the woman.

"Nobody don't know! But somehow, and I don't know the why nor the wherefore of it, them words is poison to a barge-master."

.

.

The background to this is thus explained:-

"The landlord of the inn at Medmenham had received private information that certain bargemen meditated that night a foray on his larder. He was a humorous man, who had just drowned a litter of young puppies. So he had their corpses baked in a pie, which he placed in the larder, and did not sit up to keep guard. The larder was robbed, the pie was carried off and conveyed to Marlow Bridge, where the plunderers feasted, as they supposed, on young rabbits."

.

Let's Weather the Weather

.

.

Was is Rain?

.

.

Well, if it looks like rain and feels like rain.......

.....It must be rain!

.

I noticed that several areas recorded record rainfall for November. Gale-force winds are expected and the Met Office has issued 30 flood warnings and more than 70 flood watch alerts.

There seems no end in sight to the rain this month.

.

.

Among the many events that have been cancelled due to bad weather was the World’s Biggest Liar Competition, scheduled to take place in Santon Bridge, near Whitehaven.

Cumbria Organisers said that when they tried to tell people the event was cancelled, no one would believe them.

.

Whether the weather be cold

Or whether the weather be hot;

We’ll weather the weather ,

Whatever the weather,

Whether we like it or not.

.

"I’m Hexpecting a Hegg"

.

Well I don't know how everyone else is managing to make ends meet these days, but I have been reduced to looking at, indeed buying, supermarket's 'Own Brands'.

'Value', 'Economy' and all that.

Actually they are good for a lot of things. On the bag of apples for instance, it stated "All shapes and all sizes but same Quality". Who cares about the shape? They are rejecting too much good food these days anyway.

On Wednesday I bought a huge carton of mushrooms for 77p, which was quickly converted into six cartons of soup and frozen.

But the funniest I have encountered so far were these economy eggs.

Obviously they save money by not grading them?

.

.

It was a chicken egg.....and it did have a double yoke! Lovely.

That little glass eggcup on the right, contains one of those artificial eggs used to encourage hens to lay. That eggcup is another one of those 'items from my past'.

It is the sole survivor from a set of four given to my mother for a wedding present. Just think of all the eggs that little fellow has carried over the years.

Now I tried hard for 'Egg Music' but with no success, and all I could find on chickens, was 'The Chicken Dance', which is probably not the correct title anyway.......so

A little of a Pam Ayres poem.

.

.

I’m Hexpecting a Hegg, a Hillicit Hegg,

A Hegg lyeth here, in my breast,

While the trees were bright-leaved

I rashly conceived,

A Hegg, Houtside of the Nest.

The crow stood on one leg, said “You’re having an Egg,

And the other birds feel your are bad,

But if with me you came,

You’d be free of your shame,

Of having an Egg with no Dad.”

“For a nominal fee, I will take you to see,

My friend, who lives up the back doubles,

If you swear not to fail,

To pay on the nail,

He will duff up the source of your troubles.

She was made to sit in, a bathful of gin,

And she was obliging and meek,

She was made to consume,

Some soap and a prune,

And her feathers fell out for a week!

With apologies to Pam Ayres

.

For all those 'Chicken Fanciers' I am told that the picture is of a Polish Bearded Golden-Laced Chicken!

.

Is a chicken crossing the road….poultry in motion?

.

Finally

'We've got chickens in our backyard

We feed 'em on Indian corn,

Some lay eggs and some lay pegs

And some lay nothing at all.

Chase me Charlie, Chase me Charlie,

Lost the leg of me drawers.

If you find it, never mind it,

Stitch it on to yours'.

.

"Belgian girls of vast proportions!"

.

.

THE Belgian politician poised to become president of Europe was last night dismissed as a clown.

Herman Van Rompuy faced a massive surge of opposition as other leaders began the task of rubber-stamping his elevation to the powerful new job of leading the entire eu.

Don't laugh yet! There's still a chance Blair might get it.

So the eu will at last have the supreme government it has wanted so long – unelected, unaccountable and, as even its own polls show, less popular with those it rules over than ever before. But what do the politicians care? They have the power, and we now have a government we can never dismiss.

But 65 years ago we did not despair.

Where there is life there is hope...my Granny used to say.

.

.

There'll be bluebirds over,

The white cliffs of Dover,

Tomorrow, just you wait and see.

There'll be love and laughter,

And peace ever after,

Tomorrow when the world is free.

.

.

I can add a few more verses (in jest of course)

There’ll be Swedes of charmless candour

Coming over to philander,

Spreading Left-Wing propaganda,

About wealth.

Belgian girls of vast proportions,

Who have failed to take precautions,

Driving over for abortions

On the Health.

There’ll be Spanish senoritas,

Jamming all our parking meters

With their miserable pesetas,

Don’t you know!

While Senoras do the Samba,

Shouting ”vamos” and “caramba!”

And believing that the amber

Light means go.

There’ll be men from Lithuania,

From Rumania and Albania,

From Tasmania and Pennsylvania,

I’ve no doubt.

So, dear immigration panel,

No more P.C. no more flannel.

Please protect our English channel,

And keep them out!

.

Goodbye to Bideford Rock

.

He was the not-so-gormless Lancashire Lad who became the idol of millions......the favourite of Royalty......a legend in the history of Show Business.

He did it with a toothy grin, wonderfully comic, melody filled songs - and his famous "little ukulele".

Ladies and Gentlemen I give you George Formby.

.

.

Is nothing sacred in this rather crass world of ours?

The forces that dumb down so many aspects of our daily lives have even been at work on that age-old seasonal gift……seaside rock.

No longer is our choice of lettering limited to “From Bideford” or “For Mum”.

You can now buy rock from an extensive range that lets you insult you nearest and dearest as you hand over your sugary memento.

Here are just a few of the ‘trendy’ options now available.

“Slaphead”, whatever that is! “Minger”, “Tosser”, “Slapper”, and the especially charming “Dipstick”.

.

.

We seem to have come a long way in the wrong direction from those days of “Kiss me quick” hats and these saucy postcards.

Sad, don’t you think?

.

.

PS Dennis tell me the amount raised at Saturdays Grind for MacMillan Cancer Support was £189.65.

A good days work and a good day out.

.

On Bells and Scrolls

.

.

The above song dates from 1932 and was sung by Gracie Fields. It was also known as the "Big Ben Chime" waltz as the first eight bars match the chimes.

Way back in 1932, Bill Harding would have been twenty.....he is now 97 and is believed to be Britain’s oldest bell ringer.

Mr Harding walks two miles each day to pull the bell that weighs 250kg at St Mary’s Catholic Church, in Brewood, Staffordshire.

He said: “I’ve been doing it for about 23 years. I got asked whether I’d like to do it and I’ve never stopped.”

He also trains children at the village’s primary school to follow in his footsteps. Mr Harding added: “Maybe one of them could be the next generation of bell ringers. But I hope I can keep going until I’m 100.”

And the very best of luck to him. Lets hope he doesn't encounter any 'Elf 'n Safety" bods or even those 'killjoys' that are trying to silence the ringing of Church bells....referring to it as 'sound pollution'!

Whilst on the subject of bells, here are the "bell ringers" that I have just bought. They were made in Holland and put me back a 'bob or two'.

.

.

I couldn't have made anything as good as these. Sometimes you have to admit defeat....never mind I can still claim the organ is 99% "all my own work".

.

.

All that remains now is to paint those scrolls. Every where I spot an organ I photograph the scroll work to get some ideas. There seems to be an infinite combination of colours and styles.

.

.

This is from one of the many organs at Amersham.

.

"Wine, ..... and Song"

.

The health benefits of being married are so large that single men are at greater risk of dying than smokers, says a study.

.

.

So perhaps I'd better take up smoking then........And drink more red wine as that's supposed to good for the heart.

Scientists have frequently found that married men and women tend to be in better health than their single counterparts.

This is partly because of the "social support" of having a wife or husband - and perhaps because both single men and women have a worse lifestyle - and no-one to look out for their wellbeing.

However, the latest study, by researchers at the University of Warwick, looked at thousands of records from the British Household Panel Survey and the British Retirement Survey.

It found that, even when the effects of smoking, drinking and other poor lifestyles were taken into account, married men had a much lower risk of death.

Over a seven year period, the married male had a 9% lower risk of dying compared with an unmarried one.

.

.

"It makes perfect sense to ask how a ring of gold can possibly do this.

"But the honest answer is, that we don't know."

And a suitable postcard from my collection!

.

.

Sorry ......there was nothing on the back!

.

No Shortage of Wind Yesterday.

.

.

Come on! Get that Organ turning!

My word, it was a blustery day in Oxfordshire.

Our organs need quite a ‘bit of wind’, but not in the quantity that was coming up from the south yesterday.

I didn’t get to see if Santa arrived in one piece, in fact he was safely ensconced in his grotto when I arrived. I was staggered to see that it cost £14.95 for a family ticket (2a +2c) to get into the grotto! Just what you got for that I have no idea, but there was long queue of wind-swept children waiting with their patient parents.

The organs were set up in the dry, in an area just outside the restaurant….so handy for those warming cups of tea.

I played from 1 ’till 2, whilst Dennis and Doreen went for their lunch.

I have noticed, whilst turning that it is always people with children that stop and talk to you. The children love the sight and sounds especially when the organs have toy monkeys and other cuddly bits and pieces.

If possible I always let the children have a ‘turn’. Of course they never get the speed right but they look so amazed that they are actually producing the music.

A thousand times better than just pressing a button on an MP3 player!

.

.

Only last week I read that:-

“Learning a musical instrument helps to boost children's memory”

I would have thought learning anything would improve a child’s memory. Or, for that matter, anyone’s memory.

But here we have a government-commissioned study suggesting…..

"Learning a musical instrument is beneficial for children’s behaviour, memory and intelligence.

Research found that learning to play an instrument enlarges the left side of the brain, enhancing pupils’ power of memory by almost 20 per cent."

.

.

Susan Hallam, of the University of London’s Institute of Education, carried out the research as part of a drive to encourage more children to take up a musical instrument.

The study revealed that over time music lessons increased pupils’ IQ by seven points, compared with 4.3 points for drama lessons

The Government aims to double the number of opportunities for children, aged from seven to eleven, to learn an instrument for free by 2011.

This has to be one of the few bits of good news to surface recently.

.

The Things you Read on the Back

.

.

I wasn't sure about a theme for today, apart from the weather.

I'm off to a Garden Centre to help out with a bit of organ grinding and I'm told Father Christmas is arriving today and they want us to play appropriate music!

I think the above should suit!

Poor old Kath has gone off to Glastonbury Carnival for the weekend. It sounds as if the event may be a washout. I think she said she was staying in her caravan.......I only hope it doesn't get blown over.

Perhaps more appropriate music!

.

.

I think today I will include a couple of postcards from my collection.

The fronts are nice.....but the the things you read on the back!!!

.

.

Dear Ma, when you open this postcard

You will see all the news I’ve not got.

I’m not living here, I removed there last year,

So come round and see where I’m not!

.

.

Dear Liz, if you don’t get this message,

Please answer at once and I’ll know,

My sister’s got wed, our little dog’s dead,

And I hope you’re the same….. Darling Joe.

.

It's No Laughing Matter.

.

Michael Rosen, the former children's laureate, set up the “Roald Dahl Funny Prize” to champion the role of humour in children's books.

Each winner was given £2,500 and a bottle of wine from the personal cellar of the Dahl family.

Now, whilst children's book prizes might not attract the same attention as the Booker Prizes, the publishing industry views them extremely seriously, as popular titles frequently outsell adults' books many times over.

Two of those to find themselves in the top six were:-

1) Philip Ardagh, with his book ‘Grubtown Tales‘, a story of a small town community plotting to rid itself of an odious man.

Sounds a bit familiar….a politician perhaps?

2) David Walliams, the comedian and actor, famous for dressing as a "laydee" in the television sketch show ‘Little Britain‘. His book was called ‘The Boy in the Dress‘, about a young lad who likes to cross-dress.

The comedian Bill Bailey, one of the judges, said “The subject matter tackled by the books on this year's shortlist – such as challenging authority and cross-dressing – showed just how much children's books had changed over the years.”

Certainly has!

Mr Bailey went on to say:-

"I remember kids' books not being particularly funny – they were either tales of derring-do or quaint, cutesy tales like Beatrix Potter".

And what may I ask is wrong with that? I used to like Beatrix Potter tales.

“Kids communicate with humour, they use it all the time.” he said “If you can tap into that you have got an incredibly fertile resource and a way of getting to kids at a young age."

“Getting to kids at a young age”? sounds a bit sinister to me.

Well if “……. a small town community plotting to rid itself of an odious man.” and “……..about a young lad who likes to cross-dress.” are the funniest story lines they could dream up, then heaven help us all.

I think the biggest laugh of all is that they walked away with two and half grand and a bottle of plonk!

.

.

On one of our 'sunny days' this year I was sat under a beech tree in Great Missenden chuchyard.

I noticed a father and his two children sitting by a grave.

Had they lost their mother, I wondered......or perhaps their Grandfather?

No, they were just getting close to their favourite author.

.

.

The days of true humour are numbered.

.