Cold Ale - The Blokes' Thread!

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Originally Posted by Gilliatt Gurgle

“In islands like Guernsey, the population is composed of men who have passed their lives circling their field, and of men who have passed their lives circling the world. They constitute two sorts of laborers, the tillers of the soil and the toilers of the sea.” Victor Hugo – Toilers of the Sea

Gentlemen I must take leave of this bar; my second home, for a fortnight on the open sea.

The tiller’s rigged,
gunwales are polished
jibs are full
and her stern is firm.

Visions of the Mariner’s Albatross along with Barbara Eden, a result of the recent solar smack down, will accompany me on my journey across the Gulf.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nABM1...eature=related

(At least hold on long enough to see her moves from 1:06 to 1:23)

Parker, thanks for the farewell Turkey shot, I’ll have the ship’s hold laden with rum upon my return.

I believe you chaps refer to it as a holiday.

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Fair sailing Gilliatt.

Is your wife going? did jamaica?

(a very old joke) Happy sailings!

Well what a ding dong there was down the old allotment yesterday. There have been a spate of break - ins with doors to sheds vandalised. Apparently there was a party in one of the sheds with quavers being eaten, booze being drunk and probably - according to the lady on the committee - drugs being smoked. To top it all off, they then vomited into the middle of the shed and left. (It wasn't specified whether one or all the miscreants vomited. I suppose a comparative test vomit would establish the likely number of persons contributing to the pile).

So the Community Police Officers came to meet the plotholders yesterday, and were subjected to a barrage of complaints by one or two of the fifteen or so people present.

The site was declared a crime blackspot - by one irate plotholder, who suggested that it starts with vandalism and ends with plotholders being attacked with knives and axes. (I think he forgot that he probably has a shed full of long hard tools that would make a mere knife wielder think).

In effect the whole of civilised society was seen as going to pot, and that we should form an Allotment Watch of men patrolling the area at night. (I suggested we call it an Allotment Militia).

Yes, blood pressures have been running high for a couple of days now. Even as I was cycling out and stopped to chat with a bloke near me, he declared that he woulod "Get the buggers with a brick hammer!" He then wandered off with his limp and stick and violent intentions.

The Annual Allotment Committee Meeting is going to be fun this year.

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Originally Posted by Paulclem

Well what a ding dong there was down the old allotment yesterday. There have been a spate of break - ins with doors to sheds vandalised. Apparently there was a party in one of the sheds with quavers being eaten, booze being drunk and probably - according to the lady on the committee - drugs being smoked. To top it all off, they then vomited into the middle of the shed and left. (It wasn't specified whether one or all the miscreants vomited. I suppose a comparative test vomit would establish the likely number of persons contributing to the pile).

So the Community Police Officers came to meet the plotholders yesterday, and were subjected to a barrage of complaints by one or two of the fifteen or so people present.

The site was declared a crime blackspot - by one irate plotholder, who suggested that it starts with vandalism and ends with plotholders being attacked with knives and axes. (I think he forgot that he probably has a shed full of long hard tools that would make a mere knife wielder think).

In effect the whole of civilised society was seen as going to pot, and that we should form an Allotment Watch of men patrolling the area at night. (I suggested we call it an Allotment Militia).

Yes, blood pressures have been running high for a couple of days now. Even as I was cycling out and stopped to chat with a bloke near me, he declared that he woulod "Get the buggers with a brick hammer!" He then wandered off with his limp and stick and violent intentions.

The Annual Allotment Committee Meeting is going to be fun this year.

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Your life is an Alan Bennett BAFTA nomination waiting to happen, isn't it?

I thought the whole allotment thing would be a tedious affair, and had confined myself to the growing, and it is tedious, on the whole. But you get these amusing gems pop up every now and then. I don't want to be on the committee, just sniggering on the periphery.

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Originally Posted by Paulclem

Fair sailing Gilliatt.

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Originally Posted by prendrelemick

Is your wife going? did jamaica?

(a very old joke) Happy sailings!

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Originally Posted by Paulclem

I thought the whole allotment thing would be a tedious affair, and had confined myself to the growing, and it is tedious, on the whole. But you get these amusing gems pop up every now and then. I don't want to be on the committee, just sniggering on the periphery.

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Thanks for the send off well wishes. The Albatross yielded to Seagulls and Pelicans and the visions of big hair and Barabara Eden immediately vanished upon the sight of 21st century bikini clad deck hands milling about. The Rum cache had been devoured so I ended up with a bottle Vodka and a bottle of Spanish wine, both of which ended up in the hands of my neighbor for his role in collecting mail and taking care of the dog.

Paul I hope you continue to persue the allotment affair, I/we look forward to each installment of the Allotment Tales.


Are you blokes sitting down?....


http://i963.photobucket.com/albums/a...2/IMGP2445.jpg




Gilliatt in front of Ernest Hemingway's home in Key West

I'm liking the shorts there Gilliat.

Paul: Any man who eats Quavers in another man's shed is beyond the pale.

Sorry, I'm now having visions of the crew of the Black Pearl clad in 21st century bikinis.


Leans back in chair clutching single malt in a heavy glass, light from roaring fire flickering on oak beamed ceiling, wind and rain hammering on window.


Reminds me of the time my neighbour, Fred, thought his diesel was being pinched. A tidy man, Fred, never seen without a brush or shovel in his hand. He'd noticed a few drips of diesel on the floor by his tank. He had never split a drop of the stuff -ever- so theft was suspected.

Let me explain how tidy fred is. A few years ago he bought 5 gallons of green paint, to do his barn doors and guttering. To his dismay he only used half of it, meaning he was left with a half full plastic container of paint - or clutter - as he saw it. His solution was to bury it for a year or two, until the the doors were due another coat, when he dug it up and finished it off. Another time he was caught trimming his stack of hay bales with a pair of sheep shears, because he thought it looked a bit untidy.

One night the thief returned. He brought a ladder and climbed up to the "burden hole" - that is a door high up on the barn wall that was for forking
hay through in the old days. He pulled his ladder through and let it down on the inside, he carried two 5 gallon drums and a lengh of hose down the ladder and approached the tank.

At such times I suppose one's senses are heightened, because to Kevin (a local nere-do-well) the sound of a 12 bore closing somewhere in the deep shadows of the barn sounded like a knell of doom. The lights came on and there was Fred with manic grin and gleaming eye, and a shot gun definitely but nonchalantly pointing at Kevin's midriff. Fred said afterwards that he didn't know why Kevin had brought a ladder because he hardly seemed to use it as he left.

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Originally Posted by prendrelemick

...Leans back in chair clutching single malt in a heavy glass, light from roaring fire flickering on oak beamed ceiling, wind and rain hammering on window.


...my neighbour, Fred,
..being pinched.
...the "burden hole"...
...12 bore...

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Great story and I especially like the scene you painted with the "flickering fire...rain hammering..."

Is "Fred" a common name for neighbors over there?
I was recalling Paul's allotment neighbor.

"Being pinched", "Burden hole" and "12 bore"

Sounds like names to...never mind.
Perhaps it's best not to pull them out of context.

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Glad you had a good trip Gilliatt - great photo, and the shorts are of a very worthy standard for the club ie. a deterrent.

An evocative image you've painted there Mick. ....buried his paint... hilarious.

I know two local Freds. One lives opposite. He's the one whose Dad - old Fred - had the two spaniels we were charged to look after - one of which died. He's a recluse who likes musical theatre, and who, a few years ago due to his washer not being plumbed in, used to buy new clothes every week or so. I don't know whether he's had it done since.

The other Fred is my allotment neighbour Fred. He's a nice carribean guy who drinks his beer in Rose Cottage.

Great story, Mick.

I feel like I know Fred.

I knew a Fred in the army. He was a sergeant of the field artillery and he had somewhat of a contrary personality. So everybody called him "Derf" (Fred spelled backwards). There was never a dull moment around Derf.

I was out with the dog last night lurking on the green. I came to the bridge over our local brook and waited for the bloke with the small dog on the other side of the bridge- probably an irascible Jack Russel like mine, to put on its lead. Once done I crossed over and hailed the bloke with a cheery evenin'. He didn't respond, and so, in thanks for securing his dog I said it again.

He gave a reluctant alright and proceeded to mutter something that ended up with f**k o**. Perhaps he was peed off about something, but immediately my hackles rose and from my Yorkshire roots an "Eh!" (hard short vowel sound),sounded acrooss the green.

He responded with a weak sounding alright and disappeared off into the gloom, leaving me wondering where this "Eh!" had come from.

It was an indicator of my roots of course. Thinking back, it was the kind of aggressive exclamation you made when someone annoyed you - as this chap had. I've come out with it before if I've had a comment from someone I didn't like and who I felt needed an aggressive response. it's not something I'd use at work - there the professional negotiator is in charge, but out in the streets with people I don't know, there is this more basic, aggressive persona that can manifest should the need arise.

I mulled over the nature of the "Eh!" It is a question - despite me putting the exclamation mark there, which is more implied than stated. It's an agressive sound, and with the hard e it is effective in conveying that intent. It demands a response, but seems - or feels - uncompromising. It would never come out in polite conversation anywhere, but just seems ready primed for the right moment. I wonder if it's triggered by a situation or particular feeling?

It's like that time Robin Hood and Little John met on a narrow bridge and they fought with staves.
As to that "Eh!" You can shake off your leaves, but never your roots.

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Originally Posted by Paulclem

...I came to the bridge over our local brook and waited for the bloke with the small dog on the other side of the bridge-

...I mulled over the nature of the "Eh!" It is a question - despite me putting the exclamation mark there, which is more implied than stated. It's an agressive sound, and with the hard e it is effective in conveying that intent. It demands a response, but seems - or feels - uncompromising. It would never come out in polite conversation anywhere, but just seems ready primed for the right moment. I wonder if it's triggered by a situation or particular feeling?

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=doeJS...eature=related


Perhaps you should look further into the EH tymology of the "Eh!"


I just posted the following in the 3rd sentence 21st page thread and thought it had some relevance here:

"It is one thing to make use of the language and sentiments which are common to ourselves and our forefathers, and it is another to invest them with the sentiments and dialect exclusively proper to their dialects"

(My son left his copy of Scott's Ivanhoe beside my left hand.)

Speaking of Scott, I wonder how ole Jocky is doing?

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It's been a while since he posted. It'd be good to hear how old turncoat is doing.

I got lucky down the allotment today. I stepped on a nail which went right through my boot and up between my toes. Lucky lucky.

Thus I was able to get in afew rows of Broad beans. My first early potatoes are in, and my second earlies are chitting in the shed. More broad beans will be going in on the morrow.

A scarf, a cup of coffee and Monty Python, it's enough to make a grown man weep.
I too fell victim to the aroma, but Parker's cousneling brought me back and I'm a stronger bloke for it.


Paul, did you make it back out to the allotments?