Lance Greenfield's Blog, page 40
January 25, 2018
Scotch Pies
[image error]
Do we miss anything that we can find in abundance?
Do we take something for granted if it is readily available?
The answer to both of those questions is usually, “No.”
Of course, the converse is true. If we can’t get our hands on that familiar object, we long for it.
So it has been with me and Scotch pies. I have never really missed them. When I was a boy, I my Saturday evening supper often consisted two Scotch pies, a tin of baked beans in tomato sauce and a pile of chips. This culinary delight was further improved by a liberal splash of HP sauce. For those readers who are unfamiliar with this particular relish, it is Houses of Parliament brown, fruity sauce. Delicious!
[image error]You can imagine my delight when I saw, in the Aldi weekly special buys magazine, that Scotch pies would be available. I immediately set off to buy several packs of the much-desired pies.
I searched the shop without any joy. I asked the manager and was told, “They’ll probably be in next week.” They weren’t. I wrote to Aldi Customer Services and was told that they would be appearing in the Andover store very soon. I kept checking. No Scotch pies appeared. I wrote to Aldi Customer Services again and received a response telling me, “Having looked into this further I can confirm these are not available in your region. Please accept our apologies for the mis-communication and for any disappointment caused.”
I am devastated! It seems that Scotch pies are unavailable in England, unless anyone can tell me otherwise.
You ought to know that I also miss many the delights of Scottish fish and chip shops, especially mealy pudd’n supper and haggis supper.
Can anybody help?
January 23, 2018
Under river, outside time: The Woolwich Foot Tunnel Anomaly
The time tunnel paradox
When the Woolwich foot tunnel closed for repairs in 2011, it should have been a routine job. The pathway had been providing pedestrians with a quick route beneath the Thames since 1912. A century on, a few minor improvements were necessary. Contractors were hired to plug holes, improve access and bring communications capabilities into the 21st Century: swapping leaky tiles for a leaky feeder.
But Woolwich residents will recall that the refurb of this much loved and much used walkway did not go according to plan. When it finally re-opened it was 8 months behind schedule, having been closed for more than a year and a half. What the average Woolwich dweller doesn’t know, however, are the unusual circumstances behind this delay.
Part of the works were to update the lifts source | licence
Mention the 18 month time frame to someone who worked on the Woolwich Tunnel job…
View original post 1,452 more words
January 22, 2018
First, Last, Everything
Georgey Spanswick has an evening show, every weekday, on all BBC Local Radio stations in England. It is very popular and she is a lot of fun. The production team go to a lot of trouble to cover a wide range of topics. For example, this evening, the main topics were cuddly penguins and bidets.
Link to this evening’s show – skip straight to 1:36:30
A couple of weeks ago, to celebrate the re-launch of Mills and Boon, the main topic was romance. I made a small contribution to the show with my story of how I got married to Joy in 1979, having known her for only four months. At the time, all of our friends and family said that it would never last. Here we are, 39 years later, still together and very much in love.
On the back of that, Dan Markham, Georgey’s producer, invited me on to the show on her “First, Last and Everything” slot. They get a listener to tell Georgey about the first song they ever bought, the last song they bought or downloaded and the song that means everything to them.
I agreed to appear on the show this evening.
The songs that I chose were Sugar Sugar by The Archies, Black Horse and the Cherry Tree by KT Tunstall and Que Sera, Sera (Whatever Will Be, Will Be) by Doris Day.
My first: I remember the first 45 rpm record that I ever bought. It was Sugar Sugar by the Archies, when I was an officer cadet at HMS Conway Naval Cadet School in North Wales. I bought it for ten shillings from a senior cadet, who then stole it back from me and sold it to somebody else! He did that several times before he was caught. It was quite a lucrative scam for him. That guy had lots of other scams going on and was eventually expelled. Aside from the unfortunate background, it is an excellent song. It’s very catchy and everybody was singing it.
My last: The last track I consciously bought was Black Horse and the Cherry Tree sung by KT Tunstall from Dundee. I remember being so impressed when I watched her perform this song on Jools Holland Live, recording, looping and mixing every part as she went. What talent! And she has an amazing voice and empathy with her music. I can’t believe that was more than a decade ago. I’ve bought many albums since, usually when I hear a song on the radio that stirs me, but Black Horse was the last one that I bought with considered determination.
My everything: The song that means the most to me is definitely Que Sera, Sera sung by Doris Day. I was actually in the film that launched that song, which was the first song to be simultaneously number one on both sides of the Atlantic in 1956. There’s obviously a bit more to that story. For a brief explanation, if you have a couple of minutes, you could read My Small Part in a Hitchcock Film on my blog. It’s hilarious! I related this story on another BBC local radio programme some years back: Charlie Crocker was the presenter. I was a regular on her programme. We had a lot of laughs.
[image error]As far as I was concerned, my interview with Georgey went very well. We even spoke about my two novels and my writing prospects. She seemed very interested in finding out more about Eleven Miles and Knitting Can Walk!, so perhaps there is scope for further appearances to talk about how I came to write them based upon true stories, the charity bus in Botswana, and where I intend to take my writing in the future. I hope so.
Diamonds smash 11 past Neerdowells
Diamonds dominate in Haslemere and take their goal tally past 50
On a typical cold, dank January afternoon, with the mist descending and the rain horizontal, a ruthless Andover side further stamped their authority on this league by putting Petersfield & Haslemere Neerdowell’s to the sword with some sweeping attacking hockey and clinical finishing.
Andover started the game as they meant to go on and had the opposition pinned in their own half for most of the first ten minutes. Mark Josling came off the bench like a coiled spring to sweep home a rebounded shot to put Andover ahead. Minutes later, with the ball zipping across the pitch Mark Josling and Richard Hoo combined to finish off another sweeping attack with a 1-2 on edge of the ‘D’ that resulted in a sharp finish at the far post. Dave Millings then coolly slotted a low flick from a short corner to make it three.
With 20 minutes on the clock, Petersfield were reeling and had no answers for a rampant Andover side. Josling completed his hat-trick with a sweet strike from the next short corner. Next it was Richard Hoo‘s turn to get on the score sheet with a well taken goal after running onto a through ball. Shortly before half-time Josling bagged his fourth of the match and Andover’s sixth after a turn and shot from the penalty spot.
Petersfield could easily have been forgiven for dropping their heads and giving up at half time in the face of such attacking prowess but credit should be given to them for playing in a good spirit right to the end. Unfortunately however, sensing blood and a big boost to their goal difference Andover continued the second half in much the same way.
John Priestley-Cooper continued his rich vein of form by completing a second half hat-trick with some clinical finishing of his own. His knack of being in the right place at the right time served to twist the knife as it plunged deeper into a mortally wounded Petersfield side.
Taking his tally into double figures for the season there was another goal for Richard Romer-Lee, the Frank Lampard of Andover Vets hockey who hadn’t had many chances this week due to the quality finishing of the strikers. Finally the rout was complete when JPC turned provider with a tricky lifted pass across goal to Greig Taylor who’s smashed finish on the goal line wouldn’t have looked out of place at Yankee Stadium.
It wasn’t all one way traffic and late in the game Andover’s keeper Dave Rutherford almost had to make a save but instead fetched the ball for a 16 yard hit. Other than when regaling tales of nights out in Brighton and how much he’d enjoyed ‘the sights’ whilst there, it was the biggest contribution Rutherford made all day who later confessed he’d been glad of the extra layer.
[image error]
A reminder: Diamonds’ last tour to Bristol in 2013
So Andover returned home victorious, taking their tally to played nine, won nine, scored fifty-nine, conceded three and two points clear at the top of the league with a game in hand.
January 19, 2018
Book Review: The Fireborn by Trent McDonald
The Fireborn by Trent McDonald
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
This is a great story, taking the Arthurian legend into the modern day. The events are delightfully unbelievable, yet they spin together well and the flow and logic is excellent. That is what such fantasy should be all about, and the author is very inventive.
I loved the various levels of baddies, from fireborn, who are naked, blue, resurrected zombies, to the ‘berserkers’ or ‘goonies’, to the regulars, who are drug-induced, stop-at-nothing, fireborn facsimilies. They are all dangerous, but can be tackled in various ways.
The intuitive consultant, who know more than even he thinks, is the main protagonist, Elliot Everett-Jones. His brother features heavily, although not heavily enough in my opinion, and there is much conflict between the pair.
There are many parallels between the contemporary characters and those of Arthurian legend. This makes for an enjoyable read.
The story is great, and the full-on action is gripping. The conclusion is kept me awake until I had finished reading. As I closed the book, my final thought was, “There is plenty of scope for a sequel.” I look forward to that.
The only problem that I had was that there are still lots of irritable typos throughout the text. They distract me from the flow of the story. I have contacted the author and promised to send him those that I managed to record.
As I say, I look forward to the sequel.
Dan Alatorre’s WORD WEAVER Writing Contest for March 2018! LET THE GAMES BEGIN – with a twist!
This looks interesting and I may enter if I come up with a piece of writing that I consider good enough to submit.
I’ve read “The Box Under The Bed.” It would be thrilling to have a story feature in one of Dan’s future anthologies, so that makes this competition worth a stab.
Are ya ready?
Because I have something extra special for you this time, with a surprise twist at the end, too – just like a great story!
Announcing the March 2018
Word Weaver Writing Contest!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
WITH MORE CELEBRITY JUDGES
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
John Darryl Winston, Lucy Brazier, J. A. Allen
(all celebrity judges from 2017 and 2018 will be rotated out and will be invited back for a supercontest at year end)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
and a new bonus
ALL entries will be…
View original post 2,209 more words
January 17, 2018
Two-Five-Oh!
[image error]It was a proud day for me when I completed my 250th parkrun recently with my friend, Matt Jeffery, passing the same milestone alongside me. We had a lot of fun, turning the TV advert 118-118 advert pair into our own version for this special occasion.
Two-five-oh! Two-five-oh!
I’ll let Andover Advertiser star reporter, Anahita Houssein-Pour, take up the story.
Click on the link.
Duo mark 250th Andover parkrun as fancy dress 118-118 icons
There are a LOT more amusing photos in Anahita’s report.
Take a look.
Book Review: Dog Tails: Three Humorous Short Stories for Dog Lovers by Tara Chevrestt
Dog Tails: Three Humorous Short Stories for Dog Lovers by Tara Chevrestt
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Review pawed by Ronan
I’d like to make two things very clear before I start my review of this excellent book.
[image error]
Me – Ronan the Reviewer
Firstly, I am NOT thick! Just because I am Irish and mixed breed, there is no requirement to stereotype me. You humans are just too quick to do that. In fact, I am a very clever border collie, springer, and various other superior breeds, cross. You can tell that I am clever, because here I am, at nine years old, writing my first ever book review.
Secondly, I have a vested interest to declare. My Dad was sent an early copy of Dog Tails to review by his friend in Utah, who is the author, and the Mom of my three cousins, Lola, Pudgy and Jazzy. He left it lying around after he read it, and I decided that I would bound in and write up this review to save him the bother.
Well, I can tell you that I really enjoyed all three of these tail-wagging tales. Although my heart was in my mouth at times as I lived the events with the characters, I kept reminding myself that this is fiction and there was no need to be afraid. The stories really capture how we dogs feel and the things that might happen to us, day to day, if we are not careful. You have no idea!
All three were very funny indeed. I was snuffling and sniggering all the way through. At one point my large tail was wagging so extremely, that I was bruising my sides.
Humans will enjoy the stories just as much as dogs. If cats could read rather than lounge around all day, I dare say that they would enjoy reading these too. There I go: not practising what I preach. I just stereotyped cats! I am sure that there must be an active cat somewhere in the world. I just haven’t met her yet.
I have no hesitation in awarding a whole box of dog biscuits to this book. As this is a human web site, I guess I’ll just have to give it five stars too, as that’s the way you people measure these things.
I send my love to my three cousins across the ocean in Utah.
This review was pawed by Ronan (Mitchell)
January 16, 2018
Fishing with Jesus
The sunlight sparkled on the surface of the gently rippling Sea of Galilee dazzling Jesus as he stepped out into the fresh morning air from the darkness of his small, stone beach hut.
[image error]“What-ho, Simon Peter!” he called to his favourite disciple, who was sitting on the sand, wiping grains from between his toes. “And how was your catch this bright and merry morning?”
Simon Peter opened his mouth to answer his master’s question politely, but was beaten to it.
“Fuck all!” grunted the disconsolate Andrew from behind a large rock where he’d been having a quiet slash.
“Oh dear. What a shame. What a dreadful pity,” said Jesus. “What rotten luck.”
“It’s more than that, you fuckin’ asshole!” growled Phil. “While you’ve been snoring in your sack, we’ve been out on that crazy sea, casting our nets since fower o’ the morning.”
“And that means,” said young Matt, “that we’ve nowt for us snap and we’ve nowt to trade for us bevvy.”
“Dear dear,” mused Jesus. “Permit me to ponder the problem for a few moments.” He retreated into his stone hut, calling, “Back in five,” over his shoulder as he disappeared into the darkness. He slammed the door behind him.
In fact, Jesus had already been up for two hours, watching Breakfast Time on his box. The programme always amused him, especially when the lovely Sian Williams sat next to the beaming Bill Turnbull, flashing her shiny knees and her whimsical grin. This morning’s show had amused him even more than usual.
The gang knew nothing of the box and he kept it well hidden. It was a special nepotism from Dad for all the good work that he claimed to be doing: healing repentant sinners and beating up money-lenders in the temple and all that. He couldn’t let the chaps know about the box because it hadn’t been invented yet. Nor had electricity for that matter. As for April Fools’ Day, that was still hundreds of years into the future.
Jesus had laughed out loud when he saw who was being spoofed on the banks of the Tay near Scone Palace with a jazz band playing on the lawn in the background. It was Jolly-old-Jeezman himself! He was amazed. His brain was bally well boggled as he watched Dougie the fisherman, surrounded by helpful Scottish locals, hauling out trout after trout, salmon after salmon, onto the shore to the lively accompaniment of Jimmy Johnson and his Jazzmen. He played the television jape over-and-over on his still-to-be-invented video recorder.
“Thanks Dad,” Jesus muttered, eyes raised, respectfully, to the skies. “You’re a real brick.”
The door of the hut opened and Jesus appeared on his doorstep, clutching his ukulele.
“Hurrah!” cried Phil, sarcastically. “He’s going to cheer us up. But he’s still an asshole. He may be able to twang out a fair tune on that uke of his, bur we can’t eat the bugger.”
“Hang on a bit, old chap,” said Jesus. “Don’t be so damned impatient. The fish will soon be biting quicker than the Vicar of Dibley ever will when chocolate is eventually discovered.”
The reference, understandably, confused his disciples and it irritated them further.
He stepped gingerly across the shingle towards the water, stopping when wavelets broke over his sandaled toes. It was two thousand years later that he was delighted when a cobbler nicked the design and marketed them as ‘Jesus sandals.”
He struck up a jolly tune.
Dance ti’ thy daddy, sing ti’ thy mammy,
Dance ti’ thy daddy, ti’ thy mammy sing.
Tha shall hey a fishy on a little dishy,
Tha shall hey a fishy, when the boh-at comes in.
The twelve brawny fisherman gathered round him on the shore of Galilee and joined his song.
I like a drop mysel’,
When I can get it sly,
And tha, my bonny bairn,
Will lik’t as well as I.
Dance ti’ thy daddy, sing ti’ thy mammy,
Dance ti’ thy daddy, ti’ thy mammy sing.
Tha shall hey a fishy on a little dishy,
Tha shall hey a mackerel, when the boh-at comes in.
May we get a drop,
Oft as we stand in need;
And weel may the keel row
That brings the bairns their bread.
Dance ti’ thy daddy, sing ti’ thy mammy,
Dance ti’ thy daddy, ti’ thy mammy sing;
Tha shall hev a fishy on a little dishy,
Tha shall hev a salmon when the boh-at comes in.
Jesus laughed.
Shoals of leaping fish guggled up to the surface of the sea.
“Spread out along the shore lads. Wade out until you’re up to your waists.”
They obeyed their Lord.
“Now cast your lines out and get to work.”
After two hours of frantic activity, they had caught nigh on five thousand fish between them.
“That should be enough to feed the crowd that I’m expecting for luncheon,” exclaimed Jesus. “They’ll be able to scoff one fish each.”
“But they’ll be wantin’ bread as well, tha knows,” objected young Matt.
“Oh. They shall have plenty of bread too,” responded Jesus, “for there is nobody better bred than I.”
The lads gaped at him, wondering what miracle he would pull off next.
“Hang on a mo. I’ll be right back.”
Jesus disappeared back into his shack and slipped out of the back door.
The Ocado van had just arrived with the large order that Jesus had placed before he’d returned to the gang with his ukulele.
“Five thousand wholemeal loaves for Mister Jesus?” enquired the driver.
“Super! Thanks ever so.”
“No probs,” replied the driver brightly, as he delivered the bags of bread in through the back door of the tiny, darkened seaside cottage.
The picnic that followed in the afternoon was the biggest and jolliest that the land had ever seen.
January 14, 2018
Book Review: Sorry by Zoran Drvenkar
Sorry by Zoran Drvenkar
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Have you ever felt sympathy for a murderer?
What? Never?
Do you really believe that it would be impossible for you generate such feelings?
Well, read Sorry and you may change your mind!
Don’t get me wrong. This story is dark, and sinister, and horrific. But it certainly challenged my own vIews and values.
Initially, the narration is confusing. The chapters flip between the main characters of the book. The narration also flips from first person singular to third person singular and back again, and then into second person from time to time. It is a little creepy and disconcerting to be on the receiving end of “you”, especially when the character in question is one of the darkest in the book!
Eventually, one gets used to the style, and it works really well. However, throughout the book, I was wondering who the he, she or you of each chapter was referring too. But that is part of the mystery and excitement of the story.
The tension builds throughout. There are some horrific, horrible scenes. You can’t afford to be squeamish when you read Sorry, that’s for sure!
Some of the sentence construction irritated me, and there were often commas when there should have been periods (or full stops).
I found it difficult to decide whether this book merits 3 or 4 stars, but plumped for four in the end.
I would recommend it to friends who like a good thriller, but only to those who are likely to persevere through the initially confusing chapters.
