Dear Blog,
I do apologise if I bore you with my little letters to you, but I do enjoy our intercourse with each other. I do not have a lot to look forward to as most people in a face to face situation turn it into a face to back of the neck situation.
I have just got back from a few days sojourn to the White Horse, not the local pub but your very real life White Horse as in ancient monument White Horse on a hillside in Oxfordshire. We camped at strange camp site about half a mile (800 metres Blog – this conversion is rather tiresome you know!) away. The site was on a farm with four very large fields of many acres (hectares Blog – there I go again) with half a dozen porta loos in each. Given that there were only half a dozen families in residence on the whole farm so to speak, I wonder Why all the space, I wonder Why so many loos? I wonder How does the farmer make it pay? Presumably each weekend the Druids, or whoever it is who worship the chalk horse, turn up in their masses????? Anyways, It has to be the mega con of the century this White Horse thingie. Can you see it from the road? No you can’t. Can you see it when you visit the site? No you can’t! So how do you get a view????? Well I reckon the nearby army bods are running visitor viewing trips judging by the number of khaki unmarked helicopters of very large dimensions that flew overhead while I was camping. I reckon Phil Hammond at the Ministry of Defence is helping that nice Mr Cameroon solve the UK debt crisis by running a few tourist sightseeing trips to over fly the White Horse on the quiet and not telling Nicholas Cleggleg about it. And I reckon the army charge a few extra quids for a few minutes hovering time, judging by the number of helicopters that come, circle, hover and buzz off from whence they came. I expect that the rate of flybys while I was there, means the National Deficit should be back in the Black by about this time next week if the weather holds up. So it’s well done to that nice Mr Cameroon and all his mates. A public school education has come in useful after all. That’s what charities should be about in my humble opinion, helping those who are better off to be even better off. Reward your mates with a bank or two and sod the plebs. After all what is plebs for if not to help their better be even better?
I left my wife and daughter to continue their adventures while I return to look after the mansion with a capital ‘M’. Which means a touch of self-catering for me for a week. I am open to offers Blog, if you wish to invite me round to your place to save me from starving, vin rouge optional? No problem, my diary is pretty empty next week. I will even go as far as to say the blanche would be acceptable. My sister recommends that I go down to the super markets ( I don’t do super markets, sis, just as I don’t do mobile phones, or hole in the wall or takeaways or all the eyes paddies including the newspaper of the same name) and buy myself a ‘prick and ping’. She said it is a curry in a plastic bag which you put in the micro wave. I don’t do micro waves sis, just as I don’t do mobile phones or hole in the wall or takeaways or all the eye fones including the newspaper of the same name. I can’t remember whether she said in was a culinary delight or a complete pile of shite? The phone line was a bit crackly coming all the way down from Gods Own Country. I said I might give one a go if the fish and chip shop owner has me thrown out of her chip shop again for loitering – I keep telling her that I’m only after her cheap crispy scraps, her finny haddock doesn’t interest me!
Any ways, I must stop now as my trudge has made me a touch desperate for my broad bean / touchme ond pea / runner bean / sweet potato mains and my rhubarb and cream followerss. All home produced blog, I kid you not.
Seethe, Colin
No comments:
Post a Comment