Regarding Original Sin ...

Tracey was on the phone again today.
You’ll remember: I like Tracey.

We exchanged the customary telephonic pleasantries, without the necessity to remember my mother's maiden name or several characters from an obscure password, before she came to the point:

“Have you had an accident that wasn’t your fault?” she enquired.

I thought of several such incidents and decided to err on the side of caution.
“Yes, many!” I replied.

At this, Tracey's enquiries went up a gear. Incisively she continued: “Would you like to tell me about the first one?”

“Well, I have no clear recollection of it, but I was born.”

Tracey asked, "Are you sure it was an accident?"
"Well," said I, "I can't imagine that anyone would want to conceive me on purpose!"
“So how did you suffer as a result of this accident?”
“I suffered it well; I’ve had a lifetime of practice,” said I.

“Now, come on.” said Tracey, “Be more specific, please.”
“Well,” I responded, “How would you like to have the middle name of ‘Stanley’?”

“So is your first name ‘Accrington’?” asked Tracey.
(If only, I pondered: that would have been magnificent. I could have sported a coat of arms!)

Then Tracey asked me when this accident occurred.
I rapidly added nine months of gestation to my age and gave her an approximate date.

“Oh, that long ago!” she exclaimed.
“Who do you think was to blame for this accident?” she asked.

I paused to consider this philosophical question.
“Ultimately, Adam and Eve,” I replied.
“Oh, yes,” said Tracey, “and where are they now?”
“Somewhere in Paradise with fig-leaves, an apple tree and a snake,” was my reply.
 “ …Oh, you could try an old china-clay pit near St. Austell in Cornwall.”

Eventually Tracey announced that acts of God were beyond the scope of litigation.

Fine, but it was lovely talking to her.

Oh, how I hate parody, but I couldn't resist this ...

Things not to say at a job interview ...

Thirty-odd years ago I applied for a job.

Back in those days you were expected to hand-write a short letter of application, accompanied by a professional-looking CV. All applications would be acknowledged by the advertiser, even if you were considered a non-starter.
That was an era of courtesy and accepted protocol.

Now, I say, ‘a job’, but this was to be a professional partnership that would involve my domestic translocation.

For this particular position I was adequately qualified and had suitable experience. I had rehearsed my responses to anticipated questions at the interview I hoped to be offered. I even had some naïve political views that I was prepared to share and justify.

The interview was going well, and my well-practised responses to the interviewers’ delving enquiries regarding professional aspects of the position seemed to meet with approval. I began to relax.

Then we came to, “… and how would you go about integrating with the local society?”
Now, I hadn’t practised this one.
Hobbies and pastimes would have been OK, but ‘social integration’?!

“I would probably attend Church,” I offered, rather too hastily.

(Now, bear in mind I am referring to a bygone age when it was entirely PC to advertise: “Christian practice requires someone of similar views …” So-worded had been this advertisement. We all knew that in reality that meant “British, white and middle class.” Applicants were expected to lie!)

My response was met with warm smiles that perhaps belied some circumspection on the part of my interviewers, who appeared to be wringing their hands rather nervously.

“Anything else?” one of them asked.
I paused.
Should I tell them about my passion for steam engines?
What about philately?
Do I tell them that I am a competent bicycle maintenance person?

“Yes,” I replied after thinking for a while; “I like folk music so I intend to seek out any local folk clubs.”

The silence, after a sharp intake of breath, in unison, was palpable.
The four members of the interviewing panel exchanged enigmatic glances. The corporate hand-wringing became more obvious, and I am sure that one of them kicked her neighbour under the desk that separated me from them.

“Fine, kindly leave us to consider for a few moments.”
I was ushered into the ante-room of the WC.

Within seconds the practice secretary was despatched to convey the outcome.
I think she smiled as she said to me, “I am terribly sorry …”

I rarely attended Church after that.
I still like folk music.

A New Grammatical Phrase ...

I  have just invented the 'ortho-palindrome'.
Now, we all know that a palindrome is a word that looks and spells the same when written forwards, or in reverse.

Look at these words:

1. Banana
2. Dresser
3. Grammar
4. Potato
5. Revive
6. Uneven
7. Assess

What do they have in common?

Answers by post written on the back of an exceedingly large cheque will be gratefully received.

Correct responses in 'comments' will be rewarded by being published.

Now I'll work on neo-onomatopoeia!

Regarding Trees ...

So, Mr. Cameron has responded to popular pressure by not pursuing the idea of selling off England’s trees, forests and ancient woodland.
Campaigners, with whom I sympathise, and congratulate, regard this as a success.

BUT … is it a success?
The media reports DC’s recent statement as a U-turn by the government.
In reality it is an idea that has simply been shelved – put on the back-burner.
My guess is that the unholy coalition of our government has neglected to turn off the gas.
I can’t help thinking that this issue will come back.

These are trees...

They probably germinated from seed before you or me were ever conceived.

They do not belong to me, or you, or any individual, and certainly not to our parliamentary representatives.
I guess that The Crown might lay claim, (questionably,) to the land, but the aristocracy hunted out the game from the so-called 'Royal Forests', centuries ago.

I like trees.
Can you tell?

An Interesting Journey on the 700 Bus ...

I took the bus yesterday evening.
You know I like buses.

There was a young man travelling, who clearly had Tourtette syndrome.
He expleted loudly, and repetitively, very rude words of a sexual nature.

Most of my fellow travellers just looked out of the window, reluctant to make eye-contact.

Between Chichester and Bognor, just before the Royal Oak, (that’s the pink pub,) a lady rose from her seat and approached the driver.
“Will you please get this man off the bus,” she said, “He is using obscene and offensive language. He said that he wants to stroke my …”
(Actually, he did say that; I heard!)
In silence, the driver simply responded by pointing to a notice that read as follows:

“Do not stand forward of this sign.”
“Do not distract the driver while the bus is in motion.”


The lady continued her exhortation with increasing vehemence.
The Tourette sufferer, remaining in his seat, responded at a competitive volume.
The driver drove on.

Nobody had pressed the bell for the bus to stop just beyond the Royal Oak.
Nobody had hailed it from the roadside.
The driver stopped his bus ...

“Now,” said the lady, “Will you remove this disgusting person?”

“No,” said the driver, “This is where YOU get off!”

Well done, Driver!

A Maritme Quiz ...

There you are, on a starboard tack, having a leisurely sail in Chichester Harbour. Another boat, displays a rectangular burgee that looks thus:

She is on a collision course at great speed.
What is the courteous and prudent thing to do?

A) Abandon ship
B) Shout rude words
C) Send snipers to the top-rigging
D) Pray
E) Partake of alcohol
F) Get out of the way
G) Gybe
H) Put about
I) Heave-to and hope
J) Fire distress flares
K) Make a video-recording of the event on your mobile phone
L) Contact your marine insurers

M) Any or all of the above!