I am British born and bred. I am male. I have a belief. I respect democracy. I am law-abiding. I am heterosexual. I am a pensioner. I have underlying health issues. I value all lives. I am white. I no longer matter
I was brought up by working class parents who taught me to respect all people regardless of their gender, creed, ethnicity, orientation or political opinions. They both served in WW2 to give me, and you, our freedom. I have always practiced what I was taught, and continue to do so. I passed that teaching to my children, which they have followed and will pass to theirs. But I no longer matter. Neither do they. Continue Reading
They say that adversity brings the best out in people. Well, I guess I am lucky in having a lot of friends, both long-standing and online, who have a sense of humour. So after we went into lockdown on March 23rd 2020, many of them started sharing that humour with me. Some of it is light, some a bit dark, and some just plain daft. But it all brightens the long days in isolation.
I started sharing the best one or two every day, and was rewarded with a load of shares back. Then, whilst clearing-out a cupboard, I came across a set of old books I have had since the ‘sixties, containing omnibus collections of random jokes. They provided the inspiration for starting this blog, compiled from a contemporary selection of the best from every day’s input from my friends during this lockdown. It will run for as long as we need it.
Today is the 75th anniversary of VE Day, and there will be many recollections published I’m sure. I wasn’t born then, so I can only defer to my parents’ recollections, which were few – their generation did a good job of shielding us from the horrors they experienced. However, the odd ‘time capsule’ still emerges.
A few months ago while sorting through some old papers left behind by my father-in-law, we found an envelope with some letters in that were not his. The note on the outside read: letters found down the backs of chairs. He was an upholsterer, and obviously used to find all manner of stuff that way which he gave back to the owners. But these must have come from jobs for antique dealers who had no use for them. One was a small envelope stamped Bath, May 1945. Inside was a four page letter sent to Harold and signed ‘Madam’. It reads as follows: Continue Reading