Saturday, 23 January 2010

All the nice girls love a sailor? … Er, really?

Ahoy there, me hearties! ErWho

 

 

I was in the kitchen this morning getting some breakfast, when my Grandfather started singing that song (he is a one-man cabaret act whilst preparing his breakfast – post coming soon) and I found myself pondering, not only the merits of Marmite as opposed to black cherry jam … but also, DO all the nice girls love a sailor?

 

 

Not one to toot my own horn, but I like to think that I’m a reasonably nice girl, and I have to say I don’t recall ever having warm and fuzzy feelings for a salty ol’ sea dog or anyone of a similarly nautical persuasion.

 

 

Actually, the very fact that they’re referred to as “salty ol’ sea dog’s” makes it a virtual impossibility. That and being attributed with saying things like “Yo ho ho & a bottle of rum!” and “Heave ho, me hearties!” Enough with the “ho” obsession, already!

 

 

But let’s not make hasty judgements without considering some of the evidence, let’s take a look at some well known, jolly old Jack Tar’s (Jack Tar’s? See what I mean? They really don’t help themselves, do they!):

 

 

 

Sir Walter “Ooh! What a big ship I’ve got!” Raleigh    Raleigh

 

“Bloody explorers, ponce off to mumbo-jumbo-land, come home with a tropical disease, a suntan and a bag of brown lumpy things, and, Bob's your uncle, everyone's got a picture of them in the lavatory. To you it's a potato, to me it's a potato. But to Sir Walter Bloody Raleigh it's country estates, fine carriages, and as many girls as his tongue can cope with” ~ Lord Edmund Blackadder.

 

 

Blackadder was wrong about his role in bringing the potato to England, but pretty much right about the rest. Raleigh was a bit of an ugly customer by all accounts; his idea of fun seems to have been massacring Irish people, sucking up to the Queen and being rather liberal with the truth, all whilst wearing a ridiculously ornate doily round his neck.

 

 

He looks like a bit of a sod, which does have its sexy element, but his character (and dubious fashion statement) makes it difficult to feel entirely sorry for the fact that he ended by having his head lopped off.

 

 

 

Sir Francis Drake  Drake 2

 

HE introduced the potato to England … for which he should be, quite rightly, revered and worshipped forever (him and whichever blessed souls gave us cheese and chocolate).

 

 

NOT much of a hottie though, is he girls?

 

 

There’s still way too much doily action going on, and … *SCARY TOOP ALERT!!* I don’t know about you, but I personally don’t trust any man whose facial hair is ten times lighter in shade than the hair on his head!

 

 

Drake1

Here he is again … still using ye olde Grecian 2000, and what’s up with his right eye?? Not to mention he looks like he’s had a large stick shoved up his hornpipe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vice Admiral Horatio Nelson  Nelson

 

One eye

 

 

One arm

 

 

Silly hat

 

 

Liked to kiss a chap called Hardy

 

 

 

Next!

 

 

 

 

Vice Admiral William Bligh Capn Bligh

 

Possibly the most unfairly maligned man ever to sail the high seas; Hollywood portrayed him as a sadistic tyrant when in fact, evidence suggests, he was much more lenient and concerned with his crew’s welfare than most of his contemporaries. But sadly, a sharp tongue, combined with a crew who had just spent several pleasurable months swanning around Tahiti and who were loathe to leave the exotic climate (and the even more exotic local ladies) behind, led to the pesky mutiny which would taint his image forever.

 

 

I definitely feel sorry for him, but he’s a bit pasty and has an unusually large forehead … so he’s not shivering me timbers.

 

 

As for the other protagonist of the mutiny, Fletcher Christian … well, he wasn’t all that either! Apparently there aren’t any existing portraits of the scallywag, but aside from the fact that he was a lily-livered trouble maker, he doesn’t sound that appealing; this is how Captain Bligh described him:

 

 

5 ft. 9 in. high (Ok, not a bad height!). Dark, swarthy complexion (Now we’re talking!). Hair - blackish or very dark brown (Could be yum!). Make – strong (Yep, we like that!). A star tattooed on his left breast (Moobs?!), and tattooed on the backside (Er, maybe a bit kinky – but ok!). His knees stand a little out and he may be called a little bowlegged (Starting to lose me here). He is subject to violent perspiration (And – you’ve lost me), particularly in his hand, so that he soils anything he handles (Ew! Ew! Ew!)

 

 

 

 

Captain James Cook  Cook1

 

He looks like the grumpy type. More likely to tell me to sit down and eat my peas, than say something romantic.

 

 

He wasn’t very diplomatic either. I mean, it takes some doing to wind up the laid-back Hawaiians, so much so that they hit you on the head and then stab you to death … and apparently they LIKED him! 

 

 

Maybe he forgot to take his shoes off? Or really dissed Elvis.

 

 

 

 

Captain Pugwash Pugwash

 

A cowardly, braggart of a pirate captain … I’m only including him because I used to like watching the programme when I was little, it had a very jolly, jaunty theme tune which made me smile and want to do a jig.

 

 

Also, because I get to mention the ridiculous urban legend that built up around the programme, with people being convinced that there had been characters called “Seaman Staines”, “Master Bates” and “Roger the cabin boy”. There WAS a character called “Willy” though, which was enough to provoke childish giggling in our sitting room.

 

 

Whilst not cherishing feelings of a squishier nature for him, one of the things that I did love about Captain Pugwash was his habit of liberally peppering his dialogue with the most wonderful exclamations, these gems included:

 

 

“Lolloping landlubbers!”

 

“Blistering barnacles!”

 

“Suffering seagulls!”

 

And my personal favourite … “Kipper me capstans!”

Popeye  popeye2

 

I actually loathe Popeye, but I have to grudgingly accept that he probably is the most famous sailor of them all, and therefore warrants a mention.

 

 

I never liked the cartoon, I’ve never made it beyond 10 minutes of the ghastly film (Why, Robin Williams?? WHY???) … and I suspect I never will.

 

 

He’s grotesque! He clearly laces his spinach with illegal steroids, smokes a pipe, permanently squints and laughs like a dork! His taste in women seems to run to the tall, gangling type with huge feet, who I suspect may even be a female impersonator.

 

 

Oh … and he has four identical nephews called Pipeye, Pupeye, Poopeye, Peepeye.

 

 

Freak!

 

 

 

And talking of freaks, check out this bunch of gimps, (that’s them in the pic at the top too) apparently they’re British and have had a frankly astonishing 32 albums!!!!  Although only a rather telling 11 singles … which explains the fact why the majority of the albums are “Greatest Hit(s)” and “Very Best of …” jobs. I’ve never heard of them and I hope that I will speedily be able to wipe them from my memory. Watching them, especially the smug, blonde lunatic (and by lunatic I actually mean twat) in glasses, left me feeling strangely irate and violent. Clearly the Germans liked them enough to invite them over … but then look at the audience members. That’s taking being underwhelmed to a whole new level.

 

 

 

 

 

So basically, the answer to my original question is a most resounding NO! Not all the nice girls love a sailor.

 

 

But feel free to contradict me.

 

 

Have a great weekend xx

Saturday, 16 January 2010

Let’s Not Make A Fuss About This …

Forgive me blogchums, for I have sinned; it’s been four months since my last post …


Suspicious

Ok, firstly, let me tell you what we’re NOT going to do. We’re not going to waste time by getting into a pitiful plethora of explanations, excuses and apologising. I had a tough couple of months and then just felt lazy and uninspired and pretty much wanted to spend my free time hanging out, watching films, reading books and generally lounging around in my pj’s a lot.


Deal with it :)


Ok, so maybe there was a little bit of an explanation there (dammit!) … but there’ll be no apologies!


Sorry. (GAH!)


Now then, what we ARE going to do is the “We’re such old friends, we can not see or speak to each other for MONTHS and it will still seem like we only just spoke yesterday” thing.


You know that "thing", right?


Good.


So, my Grandfather has onset dementia (cheery subject, no? Believe me, after the grotty few days I’m having, it seems like a veritable hoot), it’s not alzheimers, thankfully, and it doesn’t seem to be progressing particularly fast … which is why I feel comfortable talking about it in a semi-comical way in a blog post.


Sadly his personality has changed somewhat, and it has to be said, not really for the better. But he still functions at a reasonable level, he’s just extremely forgetful and very, very slow (he also gives a whole new meaning to the word “repetitive” … but that’s another post). It’s only very occasionally distressing (for us, never him, frankly, he hasn’t got a clue and blithely goes about his day), more often than not it’s just a bit frustrating, and at times can be rather amusing. (I know that may seem heartless to some people, but sometimes finding the funny side of things is the only way we can deal with it)


Oh … and he can’t always be bothered to get dressed, shave or brush his hair.


Yes, sometimes he can look a bit … out there.


Anyway, a couple of months ago I was at home, in the kitchen, making tea. It was late afternoon so we weren’t really expecting anybody to call round. I was therefore, mildly surprised to hear an imperative knock on the kitchen door.


I opened it, and there stood a little old lady. At least, as far as I could tell it was a little old lady, since she had a large woolly hat, practically pulled down past her eyebrows and the longest, thickest scarf wrapped several dozen times around her neck, so that all I could actually see was a small, pointed nose and a pair of beady, blue eyes.


By the way … the scarf is worth mentioning. I think Cruella De Vil finally got tired of chasing Dalmatian puppies and went for the easy kill, got the muppets from Sesame Street instead; apparently they are now keeping the noses of elderly women in Norfolk warm. I definitely saw a bit of Oscar the Grouch, Elmo and, if I’m not mistaken, Grover (what the heck was Grover, anyway?) in the woolly mix.


Now, I know what you’re thinking, I can see you rolling your eyes and muttering “here she goes again with one of her tales about loopy, old people”. But I promise you, the town I live in is just that kind of place. Basically, it’s where old people from London, who are affluent (but not affluent enough to buy somewhere really decent, like Cornwall or Devon) come to die.


Ergo, an awful lot of strange, elderly folk wandering around.


So, this little old lady is standing there, staring at me. I didn’t have a clue who she was:


Me: Hello! Can I help you?


Little Old Lady (LOL?): Is June there?


Me: Er, no, I’m sorry, I think you must have the wrong house


LOL: Are you sure? (said accompanied by a suspicious squint)


Me: Yes, I’m absolutely positive


LOL: Do you know June?


Me: No, I’m afraid I don’t, neither of the neighbours are called June either


LOL: No, that’s because she doesn’t live next door!


Me: Well, (getting ever so slightly defensive now) I can assure you that she doesn’t live here either


LOL: (hard, squinty-eyed look)


I was just about to indignantly offer to give her a guided search of the property and grounds when my Grandfather shuffled into the kitchen. It was one of his off days. He didn’t have a shirt on, just his vest, about 5 days growth of beard and a hairstyle that could only be generously described as “flyaway”.


Grandfather: Hello, I thought I heard voices


Me: Grandad, this lady is looking …


LOL: (cutting in) Is June here?


As I said, my Grandfather is very slow; he is the beloved, old Commodore 64 of the family, no intel Celeron for him; you could almost hear the squealing sound as the data loaded. Finally, after a good minute of painful silence …


Grandfather: No! There’s no June here!


At this point I was bracing myself for a full onslaught of incredulous and hostile interrogation, so imagine my surprise when instead she gave him a beaming smile … at least, her eyes looked as though she might be beaming under her woolly armour, and cheerily said,


LOL: Righty’oh! Sorry to have troubled you!


As my Grandfather shuffled his way back to his armchair, I stood on the doorstep, mystified and more than a little bit miffed that an elderly man, who looked like he’d recently jumped out of Bedlam’s comfiest crib and escaped, was clearly more credible than I was!!


Did I get an apology or a thank you? NO! I got a supercilious sniff and then a couple of mistrustful, backward glances!!


There’s no accounting for some folk!


Have a lovely weekend :) I’ll be back, I have all kinds of things to tell you …