Wednesday, 20 May 2026

Cold Caller Baiting #34 Lady Bracknell

From Facebook Archives

20 May 2024 at 12.23
Phone rings. 
0151 number.
Pick up. 
Satellite delay. 
Oriental male voice "Am I speaking to Miss Bentonbag?"
"Who are you?"
"Good afternoon ma'am I am Arthur and I'm calling you from National Households about an emergency alarm system that you can wear around your neck or as a watch and you can just press the red button if you need any help."
"Why on earth would I need one of those?" 
in my most arch Lady Bracknell tone.
And there he was gone.

I know I'm a pensioner but…

Mrs Lasagne  This really made me smile imagining the expression on your face Ben.


 

Tuesday, 19 May 2026

Essential Item In The Bagging Area

Every picture tells a story

Last weekend I was away with The Coven (Chester, very nice town, we’d recommend it).

I can’t remember exactly when gin became a requirement for these weekends, although I suspect it was Paula’s influence.
Nor when either Bess Cavalier or Dr E issued each of us with a glass and (plastic) cutlery to bring as there are never enough/any in Travelodge or Premier Inn rooms and we are not yet reduced to drinking gin out of teacups.

Emails

May 6, 2026, 8:59 PM  -  Mrs Eft 

Don't forget your Coven glasses. Xx

May 6, 2026, 9.04 PM  -  Bess Cavalier 

I'll bring the blackberry gin - 2024 vintage.

May 6, 2026, 9.07 PM  -  Mrs Eft

Woohoo!

May 7, 2026, 11:13 AM  -  Bentonbag 

I’ll see what needs finishing in the drinks cabinet and whether we have any fancy mixers left.  xx

May 15, 2026, 12:56 PM  -  Bess Cavalier   

B***er.  Just got to the station and realised I've forgotten my glass and the gin!
Will go out foraging once I've booked in at TL!  At least we're in the town centre.

May 15, 2026, 1:00 PM  -  Mrs Eft

DON'T PANIC!  Bentonbag has gin!!!  We're OK for gin. 
I'm at Bentonbag’s, we are waiting for Dr D.  When she's here, we'll set off.  
I have just seen Bentonbag put a bottle of gin in her case, so we are OK.  xx

See Also


Monday, 18 May 2026

Frogs Flush Snails Locks

Did you miss me?

I’ve been away to Chester with the Coven.

From Facebook Archives

18 May 2010 at 22:35

There are 2 frogs in the pond so we have hopes of them spawning - but we had 3 in last year with no result - perhaps they were all boys or girls or gay.

18 May 2012 at 18:16

Bob the fitter's flushed my filter 😊
How's that for a tongue twister?

18 May 2018 at 22:40

No snails tonight, or last night, and only one frog in the pond.   
Lots of rustling in the twiggy mass of forsythia, elder and pyrocanthus by the back fence - roosting fledging starlings maybe?

18 May 2020

Wot with being in hospital and the barbers being closed down due to the present unpleasantness, Ferretfingers’ curly locks have all grown back.
He had golden ringlets until he was three.


 

Thursday, 14 May 2026

Beware Of The Dog

Edited from Facebook Archives

14 May 2022 at 1202

In a Zoom meeting this morning a local politician mentioned how shocked she was about the MP who was seen to be viewing porn in Parliament.
"He's such a nice polite family man, I couldn't believe it of him."

Which reminded me of something which happened in my youth.

After graduating from university in 1978 I had a year doing not much.  I went home and worked for a while as a barmaid in a local pub/restaurant.  Most of the profits came from the restaurant but the bar was also important.   

It was the village local and the landlord knew it was an important part of the community.   
One of the regulars was Dad's oldest best friend, a poacher, who I'd only heard stories about.  

The Poacher and Dad grew up in the 1920s when some families were very poor:   

he caught rabbits and duck 'for the pot'.  
Dad reckoned “he was as good as a dog, he could smell a duck and run it down."  
Grandma disapproved of him “That boy’s sitting on the gate waiting for you again.”

Dad joined the RAF in 1934 (he was 18) his friend joined the Army at the outbreak of War.  Chatting at the bar one evening the Poacher told me he'd been posted to a camp right next to a big country estate 

"Well, I mean, I couldn't help myself.  Of course they found out and do you know what they did?  The buggers made me a forager and sent me out to the Far East."

He was a rogue, naughty but nice, and his lovely tidy wife worked as a silver service waitress in the restaurant.  She always looked neat and polished, nicely made up and proper.  If he came drinking at lunchtime Mrs Poacher would pop her head through the hatch into the service corridor and give him 'the look': 

"Cold tongue for tea tonight boys."

One of their sons was the same age as me and very like his dad; full of banter; we used to fight for the back seat of the secondary school bus.  There was another son older than us who was blading, bespectacled and hardly ever spoke.

After a while I got a temporary job working for PGL Adventure holidays as a kitchen assistant in the Ardeche.  It was initially only for a fortnight over Easter so I was soon back at the Plough.

One of Dad's postmen friend's wives, Ethel, was really glad to see me back.
"Well, that one that replaced you was no better than she ought to have been!"
"What did she do?"
"Flirting - and her a married woman - I went out to the carpark after closing time one night and there she was - snogging Poacher's older son."
I was astonished
"Poacher's son! Are you sure? I mean he's so ... quiet!"
She looked at me very wisely and said
"Quiet dogs bite Ben."

A piece of cautionary advice I've remembered ever since...

Dad, Mum and me at Henffrind's wedding 1980