No.320 Of Brucey Baby & Morning Truths

I did 30 lengths of the pool today. The earliest of the early birds is a guy who we'll call Bruce because that's his name. Bruce used to annoy me. He was far too chirpy an early bird for my liking at 7a.m. in the morning. He always had something to say to the other swimmers, the lifeguards and me when all I wanted at that time of the morning was for my head to get a bit of peace as they say around these parts of the world.

Today for some reason I had a bit of an awakening for his craic was good and he had us all laughing as we waited for the lifeguards to let us into the pool. This moment this morning has taught me that I should try not to be so grumpy even though it may be just 30 minutes from when I was nicely asleep and tucked up in bed.

Brucie baby I have to accept that every day so far in those old baggie trunks of yours you've been better dressed in the pool than I. For you have managed to wear a broad beaming smile each time and brought smiles to others too.

Brucie I salute you...

No.319 Of Classic Autos & Autobiographies

The world is full of doubters. But I never doubted my baby would see out her inspection OK and come through with an MOT for another 12 months yesterday.

It was a close run thing mind. The AA managed to get her back on the road at 4.15p.m. At 5p.m. I was busy with the wing mirror, a bit of reflective plastic and some carefully placed tape before rolling up on the nose of 5.30p.m. straight into the test bay.

Watching the test centre rock this classic old lady back and forth on the ramps was unbearable and the test centre engineer was terribly rude. "You'll not be using this as your main car will yeh?" he asked. MGs have feelings too you know -- their owners too. We drove off the ramp safe in the knowledge that we had stolen another 12 months together and cheered our way back home.

I'm currently reading Obama's book "Dreams from my Father". This is an astonishing book. It's beautifully written. Having been penned before he was a Senator even it is one of the most refreshingly honest and sincere works of a politician you're ever likely to read. It's a book that really is difficult to put down which gives me a dilemma when I get home from work this evening. Spend time with my baby or with the President......?

No.318 Of Surfin Crocs

It's amazing what you learn when listening to the BBC World Service at 4a.m. in the morning. They've found out that Salt Water Crocodiles have learnt to surf which is why Crocs, who are not great swimmers, can cover over 300 miles in just a few days. Poor guys out on their surf boards say I. Not only do they have to contend with Great Whites Sharks they now have to watch they don't step on a surfing Croc. Take up golf instead say I.

I have an MOT today -or more correctly, my MG does. The problem is that it's broken down and I have to fix it by 5.30p.m. to get it through its test. I wonder if the AA have ever done a Relay service to an MOT bay before?

No.317 Of Slow People and Fast Geese

I spent my birthday weekend in Devon amid glorious countryside bathed in gorgeous sunshine. Lodging at the Two Bridges Inn, Devon Cream Teas at Bovey Castle, fishing trips off the coast of Beer -weekends don't come any better than this do they?

There's something about Devon that compels you to relax. May be it's the slow, slow pace. May be it's the people that never seem to rush anywhere. They even give you the impression that they're not too bothered to get to where they're headed anyway...I think the only time I got into second gear the whole weekend was when the geese went for my behind as soon as I jumped out the car. Vicious buggers....

My Mum's room at the Inn gave us the best laugh. It was dark oh so dark. The curtains were black. So was the bedspread. Over the bed was a dark framed sign which read "God is Love". The walls were decked in old portrait photos of people connected with the Inn. Had they even died in that room I wondered? May be they came off the walls every night and walked the old wooden corridors. Mum didn't sleep that well Saturday night. She said she felt she was in a funeral parlour and hey when you're well past your 45th birthday that can't be a nice feeling....

No.316 Of Scouting on the Moors

It's a beaut of a day with two forecast for the weekend as well which is especially good news bearing in mind I plan to spend them in Dartmoor.

I loved Dartmoor as a kid although the mean looking Victorian prison slap bang in the middle of it made me grateful that I only ever visited the Moors during daylight hours. I do remember however one time I was out with the Scouts walking up to Hay Torr when the fog came down. You could barely see your hand on the end of your arm. After about 10 minutes we heard what we thought was the prison siren go off indicating that a prisoner had escaped. It frit the life out of us. As assistant patrol leader to the Badger group in Lord Baden Powell's army I felt it incumbent on me to have my penknife out and at the ready in case a man came hurtling out of the fog in overalls decked in black arrows pointing to hell. The rest of the Scouts appeared marginally less scared out of their wits than me but they hadn't seen Hound of The Baskervilles nor Great Expectations like I had and could not comprehend the danger they were in.

The siren turned out to be the Scout leader sounding his car horn in the hope it guided us back to base. Stupid man...

No.315Ulster & Its Men

Well. It's official. I'm now an Ulsterman apparently. See here Memory Challenge

No.314 Of Problems with Builders

I have a problem with my builders and it's not one that the Federation of Builders are likely to be able to help me with. You see, I've come to the conclusion that my builders are Hot. This was not something immediately apparent to me (a man who bats firmly for the home side). However, it became increasingly obvious as more and more female neighbours called round to, allegedly, view the shell of my new extension. I wouldn't mind it so much but they get into chatter and three young, able, builders in their shorts get distracted from their main duty which is to do my building work in time for the summer.

I always thought problems like this with builders were more to do with telling them not to whistle as passing ladies and to tuck their bum in at the same time.

Guess I'll just have to let it be known on the development that that my builders also do "Full Monty" ladies nights and to contact the local British Legion for more details.