“I loved you…”

by Alexander Pushkin

I loved you, and probably still do,
And for a while the feeling may remain...
But let my love no longer trouble you,
I do not wish to cause you any pain.
I loved you, and the hopelessness I knew,
The jealousy, the shyness - though in vain -
Made up a love so tender and so true
As may God grant you to be loved again.

The posher the shop the more obnoxious the customers

I have shopped in a variety of shops, haven’t we all?

In particular I have shopped in a variety of supermarkets.

What I have found, in my fairly limited limited survey of shopping habits and the behaviour of customers, is that the “posher” the shop the more obnoxious some of the customers can be.

I have shopped at corner shops, and at mini-supermarkets, I have shopped at three – no, four – of the main supermarkets, but I have not shopped at two of the larger supermarkets, both with very short names.

In recent years we have continued a habit we started in the year of Covid and have had two deliveries a week, one from Tesco and one from Sainsbury’s. Occasionally we will get an order from Waitrose because they have such wonderful coffee, the best fresh chicken we have ever tasted, and a mature vintage cheese which I have to be careful in its used because I could easily eat half a block, along with a handful of small sweet tomatoes and as couple of digestive biscuits.

Now clearly other customers do not bother me when I shop online.

When I do go out, however, I tend to notice the other customers and am amazed that once off the roads those customers who drive to the store tend to act as though the normal rules regarding driving no longer apply.

In the two stores mentioned above as our main providers of food and household goods it can consist of slightly careless parking or pushing a trolley around without paying attention.

In the main, however, they do not stop directly behind a car just as the driver puts it in reverse, or stand in the doorway chatting,

A large number of customers at Waitrose, however, often act as though they believe other customers are there just to annoy them.

These are the ones who will push past you to get the last fresh chicken, or who take it for granted that they have the right of way, in the store and in the car park, whether as a pedestrian or driver.

My recent trip to the local Waitrose had me wound up before I even entered the store.

I was behind her car as we both headed up to the area designated for disabled drivers (I have a blue badge) and for customers who have children with them. She stopped the car and let out her passenger, an elderly lady.

I then waited for her to either drive away, intent on returning for the elderly lady, or park in one of the disabled bays, of which she was parked in a way that three of them were blocked.

Eventually she did move her car, swinging it toward the mother and child bays and then reversing to straddle two disabled bays, at which she stopped the engine and then sat back and lit a cigarette.

Now I am more of a Clark Kent than a Batman, and generally just walk on by. This time I dropped my mild manner and went up to the car and politely tapped on the window, which was immediately lowered, and asked her if she was aware that her car was straddling two of the bays designated for disabled drivers. To which she replied that she would only be a few minutes as she had just dropped her mother off.

Wrong answer.

It should have been: “Sorry, I didn’t look, I’ll move it now.”

Instead she went to wind the window up as though that ended the matter.

So I continued: “What happens if other disabled drivers arrive and one has nowhere to park because of your selfishness.”

She at least stopped the window from winding up and grudgingly said: “OK, I’ll move it now, just chill out.”

I would have expected this from a teenager, but not from a woman who you might have thought was above it.

It gave me no sense of righteousness, or superiority as I went on to do my shopping. When I went back to my car the woman’s vehicle was gone.

I loaded my shopping, started the car, put it into reverse, having checked my rear view mirror, and began to back out. At this moment I saw a man appear in my rear window, having ignored the sight of a car reversing.

Fortunately my instincts still work at their peak and I braked without hitting him. He just walked on, completely unaware that he had just missed being knocked down.

That was not even an average Waittrose.

I found the staff in the store to be polite and efficient.

The Send-off

by Wilfred Owen

Down the close, darkening lanes they sang their way
To the siding-shed,
And lined the train with faces grimly gay.

Their breasts were stuck all white with wreath and spray
As men's are, dead.

Dull porters watch them, and a casual tramp
Stood staring hard,
Sorry to miss them from the upland camp.
Then, unmoved, signals nodded, and a lamp
Winked to the guard.

So secretly, like wrongs hushed-up, they went.
They were not ours:
We never knew to which these were sent.

Nor there if they yet mock what women meant.
Who gave them flowers.

Shall they return to beatings of great bells
In wild trainloads?

A few, a few, too few for drums and yells,

May creep back, silent, to still village wells

Up half-known roads.

Plenty of fun on Facebook groups but some just go a step too far

Many people on Facebook began with a small group, mainly family and friends, and they would put up pictures taken on a day out, even pictures of their breakfast.

Then you find a friend of a friend who puts up interesting posts and you befriend them and these new friends allow you access to their friends and family and so it grows and you find yourselves with a thousand friends most of them being people you would never normally befriend.

The next move is to join Facebook groups which are based around something you are interested in.

I began with a group interested in old Rhyl (see above: the Rhyl Pavilion in its glory days) which linked me to my childhood and early teens. Then I found the Rhyl Little Theatre group, which brought me back in touch with friends I made from 1963 to 1972. As a bonus they had lots of pictures from productions during that time, including some featuring my favourite amateur actor – ME.

Pictured below: Rhyl Little Theatre production of Macbeth and there I am, bottom right, horned helmet and hand on my sword.

Recently I was alerted to a site based on the Kings Liverpool Regiment which includes the four Liverpool Pals battalions which is the regiment my grandfather, Harry Lloyd, volunteered for in 1914. He is pictured below, front centre, with the pipe

Soon after I was referred to sites about seaside postcards which, in the 1960s, I used to look at on the racks outside the amusement arcades and ice-cream and rock stalls on Rhyl promenade.

Initially the postcard group was good. Enthusiasts would post anything from one to five postcards at a time which mainly highlighted the 50s to 70s boom in saucy seaside postcards.

Postcards in the 20s and 30s were far from saucy and often showed suitably clad holidaymakers parading on a promenade with a message on the lines of: “Having a great time at Clacton” or: “It’s breezy but bright in Brighton”.

It was after the Second World War, late 40s and early 50s, that the postcards began to get saucier and saucier. There had been earlier saucy postcards, especially those of Donald McGill, but they began to push the boundaries in the 50s and eventually some authorities in seaside towns banned the sale of certain cards under the Obscene Publications Act.

In fact they were quite tame compared to postcards and even greetings cards from the 80s onwards.

The cheeky cards of the 60s were more in tune with the “Carry On” films of the time as compared to the mucky movies found in Soho.

Even the “Carry On” films began to outstrip the saucy postcards, especially “Carry on England” and then the disastrous “Carry on Emmanuele” which really left nothing to the imagination.

It’s easy to tell the CERTAIN he is after

The point is the McGill and Bamforth postcards were a bit of fun, the good old double entendre and the slightly smutty comment.

This shift from that cheeky age to the in your face crude humour which followed can also be seen on the saucy seaside postcard sites where people now put up blatantly sexy and sexist images many of which are really so-called humour greetings cards, or even “naughty” postcards with the caption altered to an in-your face unfunny quote which had nothing to do with the artists like McGill who always left something to your imagination.

I am not a prude, I grew up in the 60s after all, but I prefer some things be left to my imagination.

How can a simple door end up ruining a potentially good day?

Ever had one of those days?

I did today.

My intention was to pop over to Waitrose in the morning and then at 2pm my darling wife and I were off for the treat of the day (NOT), a trip to the surgery for our belated flu jabs.

After that exciting day out I intended to fit a new front door lock tomorrow as our old one was getting difficult, screw missing, hanging a bit loose but still workable until early this morning the whole fixing just dropped off.

Fortunately the new lock had arrived yesterday.

No worries, start the working day a bit early but should still have time to get up to Waitrose (I have just run out of my favourite cheese, a very, very mature Cornish Cheddar) then be back in time for lunch before setting off for the surgery.

All’s well, removed the last vestiges of the old lock and then tried a dry run with the new lock (a Yale, but unlike any Yale I had ever seen before), at which point I realised the piece which attached to the door jamb, to receive the sliding lever, was too wide, which meant chiselling out a recess into the masonry.

I was aware that under the plaster there was some tough masonry (I know because over the years I have blunted a few drill bits while fitting kitchen cupboards or just trying to hang a picture) and, although I had some strong chisels it still took a good 40 minutes just for that.

Next obstacle? The cylinder was too short to reach the outer surface of the door which meant chiseling out a square section on the inside of the door to inset the box of mechanical bits.

Sounds easy but not when it’s some tough old wood and it had to be squared off and to a precise depth.

By the time I had finished this, checking every five minutes to ensure the rebate was not too shallow, or too deep, and also checking, frequently, that the keys (there were four of them) all worked correctly).

By the time I had the whole lot done it was too late to go shopping so we had our lunch and then got ready to go and have the jabs.

Now I mentioned my new (well new to me) Mondeo.

I’m still trying to get used to it. 

The dashboard might just as well be the flight deck of a Jumbo jet.

I’ve managed to get the clock going, plus windscreen wipers, side lights and indicators. The automatic side is coming along and I manage to keep my left foot out of the way.

Today it really threw a wobbly at me.

I had unlocked the passenger door for Marion (still got to sort out getting a new battery for the key so that I can open all the doors my remote control) unlocked my side and got in, but as soon as I put the key in the ignition and started the engine the alarm went off at full volume and the indicators all came on at once.

Now I’m not used to having an alarm so didn’t know exactly what to do. I turned the ignition off but the alarm kept going even when I took the key out and got out. Eventually the alarm stopped but the indicators kept going.

I kept trying to start the car but nothing worked and eventually Marion went back inside to call the surgery and rearrange the appointments.

Every tine I tried to start the car the alarm went off.

In the end I waited for the alarm to stop and then locked the doors.

When I did this the indicator lights went off.

I then unlocked the door and nothing happened.

That’s when I realised that when I initially unlocked the driver’s door I had turned the key the wrong way at first and had delayed actually turning it the other way. Apparently the alarm senses this as an illegal entry.

The sooner I get the key sorted out for remote locking and unlocking the better it will be.

If I could avoid doors I would but they are always there.

Wedding-ring

by Denise Levertov

My wedding-ring lies in a basket
as if at the bottom of a well.
Nothing will come to fish it back up
and back on my finger again.
It lies
among keys to abandoned houses,
nails waiting to be needed and hammered
into some wall,
telephone numbers with no names
attached,
idle paperclips.
It can't be given away
for fear of bringing ill-luck.
It can't be sold
for the marriage was good in its own
time, though that time is gone.
Could some artificer
beat into it bright stones, transform it
into a dazzling circlet no one could take
for solemn betrothal or to make promises
living will not let them keep? Change it
into a simple gift I could give in friendship?

Airly Beacon

by Charles Kingsley

Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;
Oh, the pleasant sight to see
Shires and towns from Airly Beacon
While my love climbed up to me!

Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;
Oh, the happy hours we lay
Deep in fern on Airly Beacon,
Courting through the summer's day!

Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;
Oh, the weary haunt for me,
All alone on Airly Beacon;
With his baby on my knee?

The sun has burst the sky

by Jenny Joseph

The sun has burst the sky
Because I love you
And the river its banks.
The sea laps the great rocks
Because I love you
And takes no heed of the moon dragging it away
And saying coldly 'Constancy is not for you.'
The blackbird fills the air
Because I love you
With springs on lawns and shadows falling on lawns.

The people walk in the street
I love you
And far down the river ships sound their hooters
Crazy with joy because I love you.