Wednesday, April 20, 2016
Sexed Up River Keepers Upbeat for Disney
been a bit busy and only now, with a week to go before the start of our trout fishing season, is their time to attend to a few loose ends and parish messages.
Tree work is all done. The logistics of how to move what remained of the two hundred year old ash tree were finally worked out and a sledge fashioned from tin to drag each ring of over three feet in diameter behind the tractor to the woodpile,
where I must now summon the strength and my trusty axe to smash this arboreal leviathan to smithereens, or wood-burner size pieces at the very least.
The rump of a balsam poplar that I have been trying to remove for much of the winter has finally yielded to my chronic persistence with the medium of fire. Little now remains and the short stretch of bank that it had rendered impassable is once again open for anglers.
Oh no, not Victoria Wood.
A genius, she even managed to ease a laugh from Madam, mid labour with Child B,
a lady mid contraction must go down as a turn's more difficult audience, but the ballad of Barry and Freda set Madam chuckling.
You may recall that I was visited by a proper writer some while back, who had been commissioned to write a play for a travelling theatre company in the south of England. Well I picked up plenty from our meeting and subsequent emails; principally that there is a bit more to chucking up written stuff than I had first thought and my secondary school English teacher may have been on to something in his annual report:
"Chris is blessed with little else but a native wit"
Anyway, circumstances conspired to make us miss the play in Andover, so we attended the performance in Winchester.
"not at all, he's a full head of hair, sings like a lark and can play the guitar properly, not like any river keeper I know"
Thank you Deborah Gearing, for your advice and kind words in the programme, and well done William Wolfe Hogan for "sexing up" river keepers.
It's called Upbeat, and I've already written to Disney about a prospective film as it trumpets all the right messages about rivers and the aquatic environment.
Just back from the dentist, a genial cove of a similar age who we have known for twenty years or more. He is now required to ask each victim laid before him how much alcohol they drink each week.
We exchanged a knowing glance, before he resumed reporting in tongues on the condition of my pre molars and molars.
I don't know the reasoning behind the question, but diktat may have been issued and a graph will one day be compiled to indicate a patient's consumption across the ages.
But shouldn't my NHS doctor be my first point of contact regarding discussion on alcohol consumption, and my NHS dentist charged with concerns over sugar, on how much J20, Coca Cola or Ready meals I plough through in a week?
Dons loin cloth retreats to cave fist waving angrily at outside world.