Fulham

When I was a young man....yes you can say it was in the last century....I put an advert once in a national football magazine years ago asking for pen-pals (this was in the days before the internet highway - the only way to correspond with people was a land line phone number or letter)....I didn't get much of a response from it but I did get a couple of decent people out of it....one was from a fella down in darkest deepest Dorset where they had a bus stop in their village once a month...despite that he set up his own football team who I occasionally played for when down that way...they were playing in the Blackmore Vale league in Dorset recently but I have just found out that they have now folded (11th Jan 2012 - Rest in Peace, Palace Court FC)

The other person who wrote to me was a girl from London, she lived in a high rise near Euston station...you can't get much more central than that!

Her name was Jennifer and she was a Fulham fan.

The first time I went to Fulham was when they played Leeds United in the old Second division, 17th September 1983....amazingly, with only a black and white photo to go on, I found her and her dad and watched the game with them.

I loved the ground from the first time I saw it, it is one of those grounds that has it's own personality (unlike most of these new grounds that all look alike in my eyes), with the Craven Cottage "pavilion" set in a corner of the ground.

A little bit of history about the cottage itself....The original 'Cottage' was built in 1780, by William Craven (Hence the name!!), he was the sixth Baron Craven and it was originally located on where the centre circle of the pitch now is.

The Cottage Pavilion that is there now dates back to 1905 along with the Stevenage Road Stand, it was built by renowned football ground architect Archibald Leitch (I'm sure he built more than footy grounds though).

The reason The Cottage was built was due to an oversight in the Stevenage Road Stand (as it was then), as Leitch had forgotten to accommodate changing rooms in his final plans.

Besides being the changing rooms, the Cottage (also called The Clubhouse) was traditionally used by the players' families and friends who sit on the balcony to watch the game.

We went into the Stevenage Road stand...now named the Johnny Haynes Stand (since 2005) to watch the game, which Fulham won 2-1....since then I have always a softer than soft spot for the club, was it because of the club itself or for the memories that I had had there?

After the game her dad offered me a lift back to Euston, as he had parked his car near to the ground and he knew I was getting a train back to Euston....it would have been rude of me to refuse.

I was given place of honour in the front seat...all well and good, but I needed to desperately break wind....we were stuck in a lot of traffic, I could feel my stomach bloating with every passing minute. The last thing I wanted to do in a new friends' dad's car was fart.....that would really bugger up the start of a blooming friendship wouldn't it?

Now the pain was starting in my stomach, her dad made a joke and of course I had to laugh, praying that I wouldn't accidently relax my tummy muscles.

I wondered if I should try and squeeze a little one out....should I take the chance, just to help relieve the pain a bit?

Then I saw a sign for Euston, I decided to try and hang on for a little longer, despite enjoying their company I was really hoping that the station would be just around the next corner....thankfully, it was.

Jenny's dad offered to take me as close to the station as possible.

"NO! It's ok", I pleaded, "I can walk from here"

I opened the door and got out of the car slowly, my cheek muscles clenched tightly together to prevent any air escaping.

I smiled and waved and promised that I'd write soon.

The car drove away and I relaxed....and boy did I let blow from there with every step towards the terminus!!

My friendship with Jenny went on for a few years, we'd go places for days out and her knowledge of the names of all 92 league club grounds was unsurpassable...even better than mine!!

We planned to go to all of the aforementioned 92 league grounds together...our lives seemed destined to be intertwined and to know a female who had fantastic footy knowledge was all I asked for in a woman in those far flung days!!

We would even go to watch the Fulham reserves play by getting the bus from Euston Road all the way to Fulham when they played matches on a week day afternoon...ahh...good times!!

But time being the eternal bugger that is went by, Jenny went and got herself a fella, and our friendship and ground-hopping plans petered into nothing, we lost touch and after a little meeting at Euston station in 1988, I found out that she was engaged and then I never heard from her again.

The last time I went to see Fulham play at Craven Cottage was a couple of years after that, December 7th 1990...a rainy Friday night, they were playing Cambridge United in the FA Cup....I went there as I had nothing else to do that night and also I must admit...just in case I saw Jenny....I didn't though so I went into the "Hammy" end...otherwise known as the Hammersmith end behind the goal with the other Fulham fans...got completely soaking wet through as the rain didn't stop that night, the weather shared it's misery with me for the whole game as I watched, quite miserably in more ways than one, a boring 0-0 draw.

Don't know what it is with Cambridge United, but every game I have ever seen them play has resulted in a 0-0 draw.

The nearest underground station is Putney Bridge, don't be fooled by thinking that because Fulham Broadway has the name Fulham in it that it's close by...it's not....Putney Bridge is closer.

But still a fair old walk.

From the underground station if you go over the bridge...then you're going the wrong way (Unless you get off at Putney mainline station, then you do need to go up Putney High Street and over the bridge...but I don't want to confuse you)....head along the Fulham Palace Road, as you bypass Bishop's Park you'll find a club shop on your right.

Don't be fooled by this, you still have a bit of a walk. Carry on along the Palace Road and you'll eventually have the choice of going down either Park Road or Finlay Street on your left, from there you will see the ground.

Aston Villa

Villa Park, home of Aston Villa FC

I've never been there for a league game...just two FA Cup semi finals and a game that I have since regretted not going to, even though I never knew about it at the time....that just sounds plain daft doesn't it?

There are two stations close by to Villa Park, Aston and Witton stations. From Birmingham New Street station Aston station is about a 15 minute walk and Witton (also accessible from Birmingham New Street) is only a 5 minute walk away.

The regrettable game that I never went to at Villa Park was the FA Vase final of 1991 involving my current favourite little club Berkhamsted...they were known as Berkhamsted Town then and they had actually reached the final of a major club competition...and I didn't know enough about them at the time....otherwise I would have gone....ah well...I'll just have to wait for the next time Berko reach the FA Vase...but next time it'll be at Wembley.

Anyway, enough dreaming, back to reality....

The first time I went to Villa Park was in April 1984....Watford were playing Plymouth Argyle in the FA Cup semi final. The draw was kind to Watford as Everton played Southampton in the other semi, Plymouth were struggling in the old third division in those days and had done brilliantly to reach the semi final.

So while Watford were actually the favourites the only people who wanted Watford to win were Watfordians...for once they were the big club and not the giant-killers!

I went with my friend Phil, he wasn't a Watford fan but I was glad of the company anyway!

There was traffic galore on the M6, so our coach didn't get to the ground until about 2.30, we didn't know at the time that the team coach didn't arrive until the same time as they were stuck in the same traffic!

There was no chance of us getting near the front so we had to just get where we could.

We were halfway up the Holte End stand and couldn't see a thing....in the whole of the match the only thing I vaguely saw was in the 13th minute, I didn't see the run by John Barnes but I saw George Reilly stooping down to head the ball and that was it.....pandemonium in the stand!!!

If you fell over in that crowd you would have been crushed...although me and my friend were laughing and celebrating we were also helping each other to stay on our feet!

Later on during the game we made our way down towards the front to try and get to see some of the match and get a better and less crushed view if possible. It was near the end of the game but still only 1-0....someone from outside the ground then threw a brick over the wall and it hit someone behind us.

Then the whistle blew....Watford had made it to the FA Cup final for the first time ever, I didn't see the actual match until I saw it on TV later that night!

I vowed that next time Watford got to the semi final that I would see all of it.

In a way I wished I didn't!!!

Three years later and Watford were back in the semi's of the FA Cup...and back at Villa Park to boot!

This time though the opponents were Tottenham Hotspur.

 

Tottenham were clearly the favourites due to their previous cup record...and I don't mean Chas n' Dave's "Spurs are on the way to Wembley" either.

But Spurs had always won the cup when there was a 1 in the year ('61, '81 etc..)...however this was 1987!!!

But then Watford had a goalkeeping crisis....Watford goalkeeper Tony Coton broke a finger two weeks before the game leaving manager Graham Taylor needing to find cover for Steve Sherwood after the transfer deadline.

In complete desperation, Taylor suggested to Eddie Plumley (A chief executive at the club at the time) that they sign his son Gary, who had by then retired from football after playing for Newport County and Happy Valley....a team in Hong Kong.

Plumley signed, thinking that if anything he would just be on the bench for the game but then Sherwood dislocated a finger, so Plumley played in the FA Cup semi final....his one and only game for the club.

I learnt my lesson from the last semi final Watford were involved in and decided that I would get on a specially arranged train that went from Watford to close to the ground....result!! I got to the ground with plenty of time spare and managed to get right up to the front at the Holte End, now I could see everything!!

And boy...did I see it all.....Tottenham put four past Gary Plumley as they cruised to a 4-1 win.

 

George Reilly ended up as a bricklayer after his football career and Gary Plumley is now an estate agent in Newport.

Norwich City

Carrow Road, home of the Canaries...that's Norwich City to the uninitiated.

Norwich is Norfolk's only football league club, and it looks like it will stay like that for some time as well.

Carrow Road has been in existence as a football stadium since 1935, before then they used to play at a ground that was nicknamed "The Nest" on Rosary Road.

The ground is walkable from Norwich train station. It should take you only around 5 - 10 minutes to walk to the ground.

From the station just turn left and head for the Morrisons supermarket and you should see the ground behind that.

Apparently you can also get to the ground from the river....but I've never had the pleasure of trying that!

I have been to see Norwich play twice at Carrow Road, once against Newcastle United and the other time against Hull City.

The first time I went saw a rather nice programme seller that I quite liked the look of...don't worry, she was a female!

I must admit that looking back I was a bit of a nuisance to the poor girl and hung around her while she tried to sell programmes...mind you something seemed to work because she managed to get me in the match for free...in the Newcastle end...so I was part of the "Toon army" for an hour and a half!

It didn't help them though as Norwich beat them 2-1.

I didn't see her again though, but I'm sure she was quite pleased with that!!

If you happen to read this "MIss Norwich City Programme Seller of 1982" I hope that you have finally forgiven me for being a pain that day!!

The other time as I said earlier was against Hull City.

This was a few years later in 1985 when Hull were in, at that time, their most successful league position.....unfortunately it was bottom of the table for the whole season though of the Coca-Cola Championship league.

 

I had a female friend called Debbie who was from Hull, I went up to Hull to see her and she used to come down and see me too and we would go to either Hull or West Ham matches (she liked West Ham for some reason)

Well this day I thought I would surprise her and got to Norwich early in the remarkable off chance that I would be able to pick her out of hundreds of Hull fans getting off the coaches.

And do you know what?
I did!

We went in together, was I looking out for the programme seller again?

Probably.

Wonder if I put her off of selling programmes after that? Hope not.

Again, I gave no luck to the away team as Norwich beat Hull 2-0.

Tottenham Hotspur

White Hart Lane, so called home of Tottenham Hotspur FC.

But is it?

Actually it's not....White Hart Lane is the home to Haringey Borough FC, who play at Cole's Park Stadium on the lane.

Tottenham play just around the corner!!

But enough of this pedantancy!!

To get to the home of Tottenham as with most London clubs the best way is by tube.

White Hart Lane mainline station though is only a rough four minute walk from the stadium, with regular services that connect to the Victoria Line tube service via Seven Sisters.
Northumberland Park mainline station is just an eight minute walk from the stadium, with regular services that connect to the Victoria line tube service at Tottenham Hale station.

Trains run from both White Hart Lane and Northumberland Park stations to Liverpool Street Station and direct trains take about 20 minutes.

There are a few bus services from Seven Sisters that run past the stadium entrance. And a taxi rank is available at Tottenham Hale Station....should you need it.

I am ashamed and afraid to admit that I have only been to see Tottenham play on their home ground the once.

And that was against Arsenal in a testimonial for the Glenn Hoddle testimonial match on 4th August 1985.

 

The game finished 1-1, Leworthy scored for Spurs

Coventry City (Highfield Road)

Just up the M6 is a city.

The city is called Coventry.

Coventry has a football club.

I think I went to see Watford against Coventry twice up at Highfield Road...though I can't actually remember, maybe it was just the once....once would have been bad enough.

From what I can remember, games against Coventry have never really set the footy world alight....thinking like that it makes you wonder what the FA Cup final of 1987 would have been like if Watford had beaten Spurs in the semi final to make it a Watford - Coventry final....hardly sounds like the type of final that people would want to get up at silly o'clock in the morning to watch worldwide like what has happened with normal FA Cup finals does it?

There were two reasons why I wanted to go to Coventry, one was that I have a bit of a soft spot for them...don't know why, and the other was for the fantastic kit they had made for them to incorporate their official club sponsor at the time, Talbot

It was so good I had to get the subbuteo team as soon as it came out!!

March 5th 1983 was my first trip up to Coventry, a fellow schoolfriend and myself took a club coach up to the city to view the ground, the first ever all-seated stadium, thanks to Jimmy Hill apparently.

He was the person who thought that if people sat down and watched a game that they wouldn't cause trouble...hmmm...

I never really thought much of Jimmy Hill to be honest.

Though to be fair, Jimmy Hill has done a lot for the club, including making a song for the club to sing...which is even sung by the fans to this day.

The club song was written in 1962 actually by the then manager Jimmy Hill and director John Camkin.

It was launched at the home game with Colchester on 22 December 1962 (a match abandoned at half-time because of fog) with the words printed in the programme.

It quickly became popular with supporters during the epic FA Cup run in 1963 when the then Third Division team reached the quarter-finals of the FA Cup before losing to eventual winners Manchester United.

To the tune of the Eton Boating Song:

Lets all sing together

Play up, Sky Blues

While we sing together

We will never lose

Tottenham or Chelsea

United or anyone

They shan't defeat us

We'll fight 'til the game is won!

City! City! City

Not that there was any trouble at this particular game against Watford, there wasn't...in fact there was absolutely bugger all happening at all....though it finished 1-0 to Watford.

For the life of me though I really can't remember the other time I went....but I'm sure I did.

Moby Duck

For a while I wrote scripts and plays for radio.
Mainly for the programme "Disaster Area" at Radio Brockley, a hospital radio station in North London.
Most of them were about "Captain Plastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy" and "Buckett and Spade"...it was a long time ago and I last wrote one a couple of years ago for a reunion show
Below is one of the plays I wrote for radio that got lost...maybe for a good reason!!

MOBY DUCK

Characters:

Ishmail: The hero of the play, speaks normally

The Camp man: Talks camply

Harbour man/ Captain Ahem: Speaks with an over the top pirate voice

Wiggywiggy: African sounding fellow

Ish: Call me Isiah

Camp man: ‘Ere, isn’t your name supposed to be Ishmail?

Ish: Shh…it’s all part of the gag

Camp: Well it’s not much of a gag to me

Ish: Shh! Ahem….....as I was saying, call me Isiah. Well my real name is Ishmail but people call me Isiah because one eye is ‘igher than the other…

Camp: Told you that you wouldn’t get many laughs out of that

Ish: Oh shush. It’s a well known fact that when a sailor stays on land for a certain amount of time that he has needs….....you could say an urge…

Camp: Ooooh do go on….

Ish: I would if you’d keep quiet. Sorry About him. He doesn’t get out much. As I was saying, a sailor has urges…

Camp: Oooh!!

Ish: …to get back to sea.

Camp: (Disappointed) Oh!

Ish: I was on board a vessel last Tuesday for the first time in years which gave me the urge to go back to sea.

Camp: You told me that you were at the local boating lake last Tuesday?

Ish: Shhh. I went to the local harbour where I asked if there were any sailing jobs going.

Harbour man: Arr!

Ish: I took that as a yes!

Harbour man: Ye go down to the harbour….....thar be boats there that go on the sea

Ish: Well that’s obvious

Harbour man: Take the boat with the black sail and ask for Captain Ahem.

Ish: Ahem?

Harbour man: What?

Ish: You said Ahem…....not Ahab?
Harbour man: No, that’s his cousin, this captain’s name is Ahem.

Ish: So I walked on board and went to see the Captain.

SFX: FOOTSTEPS, A BELL RINGING, SEAGULLS

Ish: There was no one aboard, the deck seemed eerie, suddenly, out of nowhere there was the sound of a foot....…just the one.

Ish: Excuse me, are you Captain Ahem?

Ahem: Arr, that be roight me laddio. How could ye tell?

Ish: Well I was going to say because you only have one leg but mainly because your hat says Captain on it.

Ahem: Arr, ye’re a broight spark, we’ll soon get that whipped out o’ ye. Well don’t just stand there, come aboard and meet our other crew mate.

Ish: The other crew member was a giant of a man. His name was Wiggywiggy. He was half Zulu and half Eskimo. He told me that his parents met on a deaf/blind date. She was deaf and he was blind. Wiggywiggy was the result of their union, well there wasn’t a lot else they could do together.

We set sail for the open sea, the weather was calm as we set off. It wasn’t until we could no longer see land that the Captain got us together to tell us of our mission.

SFX: HAMMER BANGING

Ahem: You will see that oi have hammered a gold coin onto the mast. That there moi beauties, is the reward for the person who manages to get the first sighting of the dreaded beast of the seven seas….....the dreaded Moby Duck.

Wiggywiggy: Surely you mean Dick?

Ish: My sentiments entirely!

Ahem: No, it’s Moby Duck….....the biggest duck ever seen boi a man…....and it’s a monster…....whoi it’s beak alone can crush a man and it’s quack can make grown men fill their trousers…. Oi speak of that from personal experience.

Ish: Yes, I wondered what the smell was.

Wiggywiggy: Was it de Moby Duck dat took your leg captain?

Ahem: Arr! It was that me laddio, Oi was but a young lad meself when oi first encountered Moby Duck. Oi was young and foolish and oi wanted to prove moiself to moi captain of the toime, Captain Greenbeard….’E used to get seasick a lot ‘e did…....silly old sod ‘e was. Anyway, the duck got too close to our ship and loike a mad fool oi was at the toime, oi jumped onto his back. We fought and thrashed about, oi stuck about 5 harpoons into him but it made no difference, ‘e flicked me off with one of his huge wings and took a chunk out of me leg with his sharp beak before oi landed back on board and on top of Captain Greenbeard. Oi lost me leg and Greenbeard lost his loife, Oi vowed from that day on that one day oi would get moi revenge on Moby Duck.

Ish: What happened after that?

Ahem: Well…....oi thought oi’d go into comedy, being a stand up comedian, but oi kept falling over. Maybe oi should have got me leg sorted out first?

Ish: That night we tossed and turned

Camp: Ooooh I say!!

Ish: No nothing like that! We were worried about finding Moby Duck…......well at least I was worried, Wiggywiggy just kept poking me with his harpoon

Camp: Ooohhh!!! Is that what you sailors call it now?

Ish: No!! He said that he was practising for when he came across the giant duck. The morning came, it was a hot day

Wiggywiggy: Cor! It be a hot day today innit

Ish: Suddenly, out of nowhere came a bloodcurdling quack

SFX: QUACK OF A DUCK

Ish: Wiggywiggy rushed up to the top of the mast…....it was then that he yelled those fateful words…

Wiggywiggy: Dar she blows!

SFX: QUACK

Wiggywiggy: Captain, captain….....I see de duck

Ahem: Arrr…....then I congratulate you on your powers of de-duck-tion. Help yourself to the gold coin.

Wiggywiggy: Well I would but de coin has melted

Ahem: Arrr…....it’s the hot weather and the sun that does that to ‘em y’see

Ish: Bleedin’ tightwad, getting us out here in the middle of nowhere only to be attacked by a twenty foot high duck and all for a chocolate coin

Ahem: Tell me lad, how do ye know that he’s twenty foot hoigh and attacking us?

Ish: Coz he’s right behind you!!

SFX: LOUD QUACK

Ahem: Arrr and Arrrrghgghh!! Quick get yer harpoons out and throw them duckwards

SFX: THREE SHORT QUACKS

Ahem: Aharr! He’s going away lads

Wiggywiggy: Look to me dat he diving captain

Ahem: Ducks don’t doive me lad

Ish: They do if they’re going to fire from the rearside….LOOK OUT!!

SFX: QUACK, CANNON SHOTS AND FARTING NOISES

Ahem: we’re hit, we’re hit……......we’re going down…..oh bugger…......oi’ve lost an arm now as well…....any women and children on board?

Ish: No, only the three of us

Ahem: In that case…....oi’m outta here….....see ya, don’t wanna be ya!

SFX: SPLASH

Ish: We watched helplessly as the captain tried to swim for it….....well I suppose we could have thrown him a rubber ring or something, but it wouldn’t have helped as he swam around in a circle. The ship hadn’t been hit, only the poor deranged captain was injured by losing his arm. Wiggywiggy and I could see Moby Duck cruising full steam ahead for him. The duck was full of harpoons and fatally injured as he quacked his last quack and took Captain Ahem down with him to his eternal resting place.

SFX: A DYING QUACK AND WATER GURGLING

Ahem: Arrrr (Glubbing with water)

Ish: Wiggywiggy and I made our way home to tell our sorry tale about the captain and Moby Duck. Funnily enough, no one believed us, but it was after this story was told that harpooning ducks was outlawed forever.

The End

Tunisian massage

I went to Tunisia one year, and I must admit that I will never go there again, it was ok in its own way, but too many locals were out to con you, it got on my nerves by the end of my time there.

I noticed however that the hotel I was staying in had its own spa and had a massage service...…no, nothing dodgy.

But I thought to myself that it would be a good way to unwind a bit and get the stress of the locals out of my hair for a bit…and of course, if the masseur happened to be of the female sort then that wouldn’t go down too badly either.

So I paid at the reception and was directed where to go.

I went into where the changing rooms were and removed my clothes but left my trunks on for modesties sake.

After a couple of minutes I saw the masseur…....a great big bald tubby fella.

He looked like a light bulb, thin at top and bulged out round the middle and bottom.

Well at least he wasn’t going to ask me to go for a run with him so that was one good thing.

He looked at me, I said Hello and he just continued to look at me.

He then motioned for me to remove my trunks....…I didn’t expect that.

When I hesitated he flung a towel at me and possibly swore in Arabic.

I then hastened to do as told….....at least if he was going to try and roger me I could do a runner with no chance of him catching me up.

He then pointed to the pool area.

Now this wasn’t your normal kind of swimming pool, more a contraption of Dali-esque walls in water between.

You go in one end and then have to dive (well, I held my nose and closed my eyes as I went under) under a wall and come up in the next compartment.

I did this a couple of times and thought I was doing well and that this was a doddle when he dragged me out and pushed me into the sauna, poured water on loads of coals to make the room hot and steamy and not only shut the door but locked me in.

By the time he opened the door and dragged me out I was sweating like a good ‘un.

He then got me on my knees, facing his loincloth (I’m not kidding but boy was I thankful he was wearing one), then he walked behind me…....I thought "hello" and then he proceeded to chuck a bucket full of ice cold water, complete with actual ice over my head.

No warning whatsoever, I’d gone from hard of breathing through steam inhalation to my nerves everywhere in my body being shattered by iced water. I gasped for breath…..for the first time that day I saw the fat bastard smile

Once I had barely got my breath back he pushed back to the water contraption and got me to go in there and again go under from one part to the other.

I must have been a little slow for his liking at first because he pushed me under before I had taken a deep enough breath, he dragged me out by my hair on the other side once he saw a few bubbles of my life appearing in the water.

Then it was time for another sauna…. but this time I was ready for him, I knew what to expect.

The same thing happened so when I came out this time I knew to expect the bucket of water…..I wasn’t wrong.

"Hah! If that’s all you have fatso then I’m ready for you", I muttered while shivering under my breath.

It was then that he smiled another evil grin…....it was a very disturbing type of grin….

He grunted to me to lay face down....…bum cheeks in the air but very tightly clenched by yours truly I can tell you.

He took hold of my foot and then proceeded to bend it towards my head…....I was determined not to cry out in pain but I was silently begging for him to stop, then there was a deafening crack….

Had the fat shit had broken my leg?

But how come there was no pain?

He then decided that it was a good idea to do the same with the next leg and he didn’t stop until that cracked as well.

I saw a pattern forming here.

He then bent down and looked at my face with his yellowed teeth showing.

He was clearly having fun with me, I just wished I was enjoying it as much.

I smiled back…..I never knew I had the typical British stiff upper lip until then…....there were tears in my eyes but I blinked them back and smiled at the sadistic sod coz I certainly wasn’t going to give fatty the satisfaction of seeing me in tears.

He then got hold of each arm and did the same kind of thing to them too. I was praying they would crack quickly so he would stop before too long, they didn’t, well they bloody well wouldn’t would they?

Next stop, the neck, with his right hand on top of my sweaty head (Was it sweat from the sauna/ ice water torture or the fact that it felt that he was trying to kill me?) and his left hand under my chin (Could have been the other way round of course I wasn’t in much of a position physically or mentally - to notice) and with a swift pull with one hand and push with the other it felt like my head was going around like in "The Exorcist"…..it gave an almighty and rather unhealthy sounding crack one way and then before I had time to take a sharp intake of breath he did it the other way as well.

Then back to the water dipping for a bit and the final sauna/ ice treatment before his finale….

Once again he told me to lay flat on the floor…

What the hell else could he do to me? I wondered.

When I felt the pressure on my back I realised….the fat git was going to walk on me!!

With all his weight he put his feet either side of my spine and gave me a chinese burn down each side from just below the shoulders to where the kidneys are.

By now I was seriously hoping that the end was nigh......…not the end of my life of course…....just the end of this session…......who’s bleeding bright idea was it to go for a massage?

Oh!

When he had finished doing that he told me, either in French or Arabic....…I was past caring by that time to notice, to go and have another dip.

As I went into the water he walked away. I stayed in there for about five minutes before he came back.

He motioned for me to get out, gave me a towel to dry myself and shook my hand.

It was over!

Did he shake my hand just as a gesture of goodbye or was it to say that he respected me as a brave soul for enduring the ordeal?!!

And I must admit, I went out of there feeling great, I’d never felt so supple….

Would I do it again though?

No comment.

Toilet troubles

I have had the embarrassment to be involved in three toilet incidents....no not like that!!

The first time was when I was on a blind date. I had arranged to meet this girl at a train station close to where she lived....…see? I can be a gentleman!

Anyway, I got there early and was waiting around, getting more nervous as the time dragged when I felt an unwelcome rumble in my tum…....I had to get to a loo and quick.

It was only a little station, one that a train goes past every twenty minutes or so but actually stops at once a fortnight.

……I had a sinking feeling that there wouldn’t be a toilet around…....then I saw it, I cheered for the sight I saw and went there as fast as my little legs would take me.

I sat down and did my business....…I’m sure you don’t want me to go into details, so I won’t.

With a huge relief I finished and went to grab the paper…....to my horror there was none.

No…....there had to be some somewhere, I looked (while still in a sitting position) all around, even on the floor.

Bloody heck…....what to do?!!

I had 10 minutes before this girl was going to turn up, for all I know she could be early and outside waiting for me, wondering where I was or if I was going to turn up.

Desperately I searched in my pockets....……an extra strong mint wrapper…....hmmm....…tempting but not absolvent enough…..I checked the other pocket, a hankie…....gawd knows how long it had been in there. But needs must etc etc…...

I ripped the hankie to pieces.....……in normal circumstances I wouldn’t have been able to do such a thing, but I guess it must have been like one of those times when someone is stuck under a two ton car that you manage to find the strength deep down to lift it……....in a kind of way.

I managed to finish using the hankie (said in the nicest possible way) and rushed back to the front of the station to meet the young lady with minutes to spare.....……turned out that she never turned up anyway.....…I waited over an hour and she never appeared.

Another time I was in an Italian restaurant, the call of nature was strong again and I popped to the loo to make more room for my meal (sorry).

As I sat down I heard someone say,

"There is no toilet paper", and then it was repeated in Italian

I looked around and thought that maybe the toilets were highly modernised and they scanned the seat so that if any buttock hovered near it, and no paper was around that it would warn you that there was no paper, for which I would have been eternally grateful for a few years earlier.

However, it was just a recording of Anglo-Italian phrases that the restaurant played instead of music in the bogs.

Bloody stupid idea!!

The last occasion such a thing happened to me was when I was on holiday.

I went out for a walk around the local area….....like you do when on hols.

Once again I had that funny familiar feeling and knew that I would have to find somewhere reasonably quickly.

I popped into a museum and thought I’d use their premises.

Time was getting on but when you gotta go, you gotta go. 

It was about five in the afternoon. I went to the toilet and just got myself comfortably sat when suddenly, the lights went out.

I was in complete darkness, I went to move and shuffle towards the door with my trousers around my ankles but I couldn’t open the door.

It had jammed on me.

I had visions of me stuck in this cubicle all night…..not only that, but it was a Friday.

Was it going to open on Saturday?

Was I going to be stuck in a smelly toilet cubicle all weekend?

Would anyone even miss me?

And most important of all…..how embarrassed am I going to be when the caretaker opens up on Monday morning to find me feebly banging on the door after two days with no food...…..and the only water there would be was the stuff in the toilet itself.

All these thoughts were running through my mind as I yelled out....…not hysterically I hasten to add but in a very manly way….

Next thing I know the lights came on and I could see the lock on the door to undo it.

It seemed that the lights automatically went out if the room has no movement in it after a certain amount of time.

It’s a way of saving electricity apparently.

By that time though what I had wanted to do had gone right back up!

The Fiasco

Now I haven’t missed having a phone as I have said, except on this one occasion.

 

I know he's laughing here but I wasn't at the time i can tell you.

I was about five minutes from home when a car pulled up next to me, "If this is someone wanting directions I’m going to give them the wrong ones", I viciously thought to myself.

It was my wife, she and the mother in law were laughing at me because I’d been waiting all that time before I decided to go home.

They told me they came out of the clinic at 3.30 and she never had to have the drops in the end so she was able to drive home, they said that they phoned my work and I obviously wasn’t given the message and of course, as I didn’t have a mobile they couldn’t contact me on that.

I got my own back though…..I told the mother in law that her hubby couldn’t be arsed answering the phone when I phoned, so she gave him a right rollicking over that, and I put it on with my wife by telling her that I was imagining that she had an accident and that despite their laughter at my situation, at the time I was deadly worried about what had happened.

She felt so guilty over that so she made the tea all night for a change!!

The Network Stalker

They finally gave me my phone back.

Those people where I worked.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not as if I had it taken off me for being naughty.

To be quite honest, I lost it.

One minute I felt the bulge of it in my pocket, the next (about three hours later to tell the truth when I went to look at the time and no, I didn’t have a watch at the time I plead poverty….plus the fact that the way I looked at it, if you have a clock thingie on your mobile phone then why have a watch as well?) it had gone.

I traced my steps, the way you do when you lose something and asked the management people if someone had handed in my cheap and cheerful pay as you go with no extra bits and bobs phone.

Their answer was a short, sharp negatively put "No, bugger off and do some work".

"And why would you want to use your phone on our time anyway?"

So with no joy at the end of my working day I went on my way, wondering what kind of sad bastard would want to steal my sad little phone....…of course I could have genuinely dropped it somewhere, but I would rather accuse others than myself…....well you do don’t you?

So ho hum, I lost my phone…....no big banana to me, big dealio, no great loss...…after all, no bugger ever rang me on it anyway.

Admittedly it did have a very addictive game on it though that I played whenever I had the chance…....once I lost track of time while playing it, I was in the loo at work at the time....…but that’s probably to much information.

Three months later, someone comes up to me at work and asks, "This yours?" while waving my long lost phone under my nose.

They bleeding well knew it was.

"How did you know it was mine?" I enquired calmly.

"We rang someone on your phone and they confirmed that it belonged to you"

It took three months for management to think of that….....bloody typical huh?

Anyroad, I took the phone and professed my gratitude…...on the way home that day I dumped it in a bin.

Stupid?

Possibly.

But there was a perfectly good reason as well.

Over a year before I befriended a lady on a social networking site. We seemed to get on well, wrote to each other everyday and I thought it was a nice friendship, nothing wrong with that.

Everything was going well for a few months and as time progressed she told me that she was having trouble at home.

Well these things happen, so I thought I would listen to her and be of some support, like any decent friend would in those kind of circumstances.

A week or two after that, another friend of mine on the site wrote to me and asked who she was and how well did I know her.

I explained how I got to know her and she told me that she had abused her by swearing at her and saying that she was a better friend to me etc etc.

Although my other friend was the sort who could take it with a pinch of salt she thought that she should tell me, and I was glad she did, I was not happy and told this person so.

After that I realised that every time I logged on to the site, she would be there, as if waiting to say hello

Not long after that she told that she had developed feelings for someone online, I asked her who but she wouldn’t tell me. She would only give a description but that description fitted me precisely....…not to blow my own trumpet of course!!

Once I went onto her profile, which tells you about the person, I was shocked to discover that she had put on there that herself and I were engaged back in the 80’s...….which would have been interesting as not only has she always lived 200 miles away from me but I had only known her for a year and I’d certainly never met her, and definetly wouldn’t go anywhere near her now!

Another telling off was given, because I was feeling very uncomfortable now.

She then wrote to me telling me that she couldn’t take anymore as people were mucking about with her feelings…....the next day she had disappeared from it.

All I felt was relief!!

A couple of months later, she wanted me to add her again, I ignored the request, I certainly didn’t want to go through all that again.

A little time after that, while I was at work, my mobile rang. Confused, as no one ever rings me I answered it.

She was on the other end screaming and swearing about what I had done to her and that her marriage had fallen apart and it was my fault!!

How the hell she came to that opinion I don’t know as I had never met her and certainly had nothing to do with her for months at that time.

And I most definelty never gave her any come on at all.

What concerned me most was how she managed to get hold of my mobile number, but I knew I certainly didn’t want anymore hassle form her in the future so when I got the phone back the first thing I did was bin it.