Taxi tedium

Just for a change (!) it was raining cats and dogs this morning

(what is worse than raining cats and dogs?...hailing taxis (geddit).

He has still not got round to buying an umbrella so ordered a taxi. What is it about mini-cab companies in this country (or is it a global phenomena) that they will always accept a booking even though they know they cannot fulfill it?

As one can imagine with it turning up 25 minutes late and after 3 phone calls he had steam coming out of his ears.
Matters were not improved as the journey to work went very smoothly as that rather cast the lie to the claim that the delay was due to heavy traffic.

Oh and in possession news he has lost his toothbrush.

The great Inundation

The British summer is barely turning out to be worth the name with quite ridiculous quantities of rain falling over the last couple of months. As is usual when ever this country is hit with a little weather out of the ordinary the entire system collapses and the events of last week proved that beyond any doubt.

Of course our subject was good enough to get caught up in the bother when on a train from Brum to Bristol. With a derailment ahead the train had to be diverted to Gloucester (where it was then cancelled). The scenes at Gloucester station were somewhat farcical as, with the Severn having burst its banks, the entire city was devoid of power (power station underwater) and water.

The staff at the station were thus unable to use the board or loudspeakers to keep the passengers informed and so that task was delegated to two in breds from the Forest of Dean wandering up and down the platform yelling in some incomprehensible regional accent. In truth it was not much more incomprehensible than the public address systems at most stations.

Eventually, and somewhat sadly, a replacement train turned up (although this one had to go via Newport) and he made it to Bristol only some 2 hours late.

Blundering buffoonery

After the death defying exploits of last weekend he has been getting his head down and just working, dull boy, and not drinking, very dull boy, which rather leaves your correspondent with a dearth of material.

Fortunately common-sense has prevailed and the good lad spent most of yesterday engaging in some DIY. Matters got off to a great start when he electrocuted himself (again, we think that is number 5 or 6). Fortunately for us he didn't leave matters there and on drilling into the wall was excited to locate a hot water pipe.

Lesser mortals would have rested there but of course such lesser mortals would not make worthy subjects for us at Bogun Towers and he was good enough to then seek to collect a load of furniture from House of Fraser. Now a Toyota Celica might be a fun car to drive (actually it isn't but we can come back to that another time) but the sales literature does not make a virtue of its boot space. Notwithstanding the challenges after some intriguing loading - marked by constant unloading and re-loading and some good old brute force - he eventually managed to get everything in.

Rather foolishly he concluded, after two rejuvenative pints of Hoegaarden which may have played a part, to try and carry the largest item (45kgs according to the packaging) on his own and as he put it "African woman style" i.e. on his head. His neck is, again, ruined and he is a marked amount shorter.

Cricket again

Renishaw

Another week, another struggle for the selection committee; 5 ringers this time.

The opponents had all arrived early to get some training in and quite looked the part with matching orange tops, all the gear and no idea perhaps, time would tell.

Earl lost the toss and Renisham decided to get runs on the board, well to try anyway.

Webb opened with a blistering spell of dot, wide, wicket, wicket, dot, dot before having a blow whilst Burton had a similarly brief spell of dot, dot, wicket, 2, dot.
3 for 3 of 2 overs is never the greatest foundation to construct and innings and with Simmons coming on first change and reducing them to 4 for 4 matters were not improving. 2 overs for 2 runs from Ringer A and 3 tight overs from Halden including a wicket maiden hardly helped (13 for 5) but with Earl getting bored with Williams appealing for stumpings he threw the match wide open by giving him a couple of overs. Carted is the only way of describing them.

Ringer B had a couple of expensive overs but deserved better. Ringers C and D kept the score relatively tight and Ringer D did not really assist by taking 3 wickets.

Ringer E got carted (and dropeed a sitter) before Burton brought matters to an end with exactly 100 on the board (including 6 ducks, 2 golden).

Not a score that looked challenging. In an astonishing move Williams was dropped down the order (to 3) and Halden and Ringer B opened. The experiment did not work with Ringer B falling swiftly. Halden and Williams pushed the score along before Halden fell on 16. Ringer A cracked some quick runs before falling leaving the score 57 for 2 from 10 overs.

Williams and Ringer C got horribly bogged down. Ringer C taking 6 overs to get off the mark whilst Williams just merrily chipped along. 17 runs came from the next 7 overs before Williams did the decent thing and got out. Ringer C quickly followed suit and Webb and Earl gave it some quick long handle (aided by the ball being swapped for a white one) with Earl bringing matters to a head with a 6 with the last ball of the 19th over.

An enjoyable game made more of a contest by Earl’s very generous bowling decisions and Williams and Ringer C’s inability to score runs.

Man of the match is a real challenge this week but just goes to Webb for his 2 wickets and quick fire 15 runs.

The perils of Kayaking

We have a rather unusual guest contributor to the Bogun Towers output with our subject choosing to share some of his pearls with us. His blitherings are below.

I am of course very grateful to the mystery reporter for this opportunity to contribute to the journal of my own life and have felt the need to report fully on the debacle that was my kayaking experience this past weekend.

I have previously done a little bit of kayaking including in the sea and so whilst Glenn ensured that everyone else knew what they were doing I made clear to him that any condescending lessons would not be welcome.

Sadly I forgot one of the basic lessons and failed to check that the quick release loop was not tied up with the spray deck.

Of course this elementary error would not have been a problem save that as I paddled out beyond the surf (leaving everyone else behind) and paused to let the surfers get out of the way before paddling back I was broadsided by a freak wave and my kayak and I ended up upside down.

I opened my eyes to see just green churning water and as I closed them realised I really could have done with grabbing a last breath of air before being capsized. My hands dropped to my sides and I ran them forward to the front of the spray deck to find the loop. I scrabbled around, nothing.

My hind brain started screaming at me to breath, fortunately my fore brain was having none of it and shouted him down. I brought my hands back to my side and ran them forward again to find the loop, more scrabbling, more nothing.

My hind brain was getting louder and I realised I was in trouble. As I sat upside down the knowledge that I was not far off drowning was not a great comfort. My hands scurried up and down the edge of the spray deck hunting for any opening to hook in a finger and release me but nothing.

My hind brain was now close to being in charge and just before it took over and made the fatal mistake of breathing suddenly I found the strength and tore myself out of the kayak and kicked up to the surface before gasping the sweetest breath I have ever enjoyed.

With the tide running against me I still had a long swim back to shore but with the kayak acting as a flotation device I was able to take it steady and made it back in one piece.

Later it hit me quite how close I had come to saying farewell and, importantly, leaving the mystery reporter jobless and the fear finally hit me. I do not want to repeat that experience anytime soon.

The fragility of life

The weekend just passed saw him (and the long suffering but still lovely Dennis) descending on the North Devon coast to go camping with Christine, Chris, Nigel, TCO (formerly known as TEM), Dafydd, Polly, Pop the Dog, Jarman and Dogs to celebrate Christine's 22nd birthday (again).

The campsite chosen prides itself on being a quiet family site and does not welcome rowdy groups and so a note entirely existent group known as the Society of Hampstead Inverterbologists, Trekkers and Entomologists (SHITE) was created for the occasion to provide a patina of respectability.

With Chris, Polly, Dafydd and Pop the Dog arriving early to set up camp matters were well advanced by the time he and TLSBSL Dennis arrived to tuck into the booze and giggle at Nigel's ineptitude at tent erection.

With a pretty cheeky wind blowing through the campsite nobody was going to stay up late on night one and so it proved with the group all tucked up in bed by 2300.

Saturday morning saw some sterling breakfast creation efforts from Chris, Jarman, Dogs and others and an enormous feast of bacon, sausage and fried eggs was churned out until everyone was bursting at the seams.

With the group safely fattened up they hit the beach at Woolacombe for some seaside fun and frolics. Dafydd and Polly went surfing whilst the rest of the group took advantage of the three kayaks that Jarman had brought with him to enjoy some kayaking in the surf.

Our hero ballsed it right up. We have received a guest submission on that subject and it will be published shortly but all your correspondent can say is what a blithering idiot.

Some beach cricket followed, rather ruined by some over enthusiastic fielding from Pop the Dog, before the party kicked off at the campsite before moving on to the crazy town that is Coombe Martin (population 5) the journey into town was via the medium of Jarman's white Van leading to some rather odd stares when the contents were disgorged.
Having enjoyed the sunset every drinking game known to man was crammed into a 2 hour period and some serious quantities of drink were consumed before the group returned to the campsite at which they were asked, politely, to "Shut the fuck up you bunch of moronic twats". Charming.

Another first class feast of a breakfast followed for Sunday morning before as the group started to break up some of them went for a little walk. An ill advised further exposure to the sun for our hero might be a better description who is now seriously burnt.

A first class weekend with first class chums. Shame about the near death experience and the sun burn.

The folly of youth

A quick trip this week to London town for a meeting in Peckham (best not to ask but we can report that pin-stripe suits are clearly not the most common sight on the streets) but more importantly Boris has made a flying trip to Blighty.

To celebrate his brief sojourn in the capital Glenn, Dogs, Chris, Boris and our subject met up in the Counting House in the City for a few beers. Whilst the lads were trying to enjoy the evening they were disturbed by two very drunk and very young girls (19) who seemed to be quite keen on our subject on Boris. Despite his best efforts at being rude to see the back of them the message well and truly was not got until after about an hour he managed to palm the very tedious one (mainly tedious as she is doing a law degree and would not stop going on about it) off to Boris.

After some quite rejoicing at this achievement imagine his disappointment when Boris managed to palm her back off to him by revealing to her his stellar human rights performances. Imagine his joy at being pestered some more.

Devils in nappies - part 2

Astonished at his own ability to not accidentally kill the kids he decided to show off and take them (well Thea and Phoebe, Evie might be pushing it a little) to see Shrek the Third at the cinema.



The girls were very well behaved although they each had to take the long suffering, but still lovely, Dennis to the toilet during the movie.

The movie itself was excellent fun although with the girls rather distracting him he can't actually remember much of it.

With the kids safely ensonced back at home with the Mother they left her to it and set off back to Brum. Halfway up the M40 this amusing sight filled his rear view mirror astonishingly he appears to have developed some magic way of talking to the boys in blue and for the third time in a row was let off with a warning (even after his genius comment, "well, yes, I do admit I was doing 85 when first I saw you").

Devils in nappies - part 1

His indolent sister and equally idle husband decided to slope off this weekend to Bruges and leave their kids with the Mother (we accept this may not be the fairest description of a couple who have not had a break together and alone for well over 5 years).

Realising that she would need assistance with the brood from hell she begged our subject and the long suffering, yet still lovely, Dennis to come down for the weekend and help out. Despite his best endeavours he was unable to arrange anything else to do or muster up any excuse and so ended up travelling down to assist.

A quick trip to the school fete got matters off to an impressive start (almost as impressive as his failure to burst a balloon with a dart therefore leaving Phoebe without a present). Phoebe and Thea decided to disguise themselves to maximise their naughtiness potential.

That said the evidence would suggest that they are actually very lovely kids (although apparently being brought up in the Victorian era).