As long as we have done our best, then no-one can do more, and life and love and happiness are well worth fighting for

Cuticura mildly medicated soap.

That is the first thing that comes to mind when I recall listening to Radio Luxembourg in the early 80s. Adverts for Cuticura – which first came to market in 1865 apparently – as well as trailers for Mad Max. Odd. I can’t remember a single show I listened to on radio Luxembourg. I never had a bar of Cuticura and it was some years after until I saw Mad Max.

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I think I have used a photo from Mad Max 2, also a good film, but not on a level with the first one.

This nightmare vision of the future links neatly with my dream last night. Only in so far as they are both dreams. Tenuous link.

So I dreamt I was on a family holiday in Brazil. We wanted to do a day trip to Ecuador. In my dream, Ecuador borders Brazil (and also Azerbaijan). [Bob’s Factfile: I have just checked and the reality is that Brazil does not share any border with Ecuador].

Anyway the only daytrip available still before the weekend  (which we could not do) was to visit an Ecuadorean farm. I didn’t book it but when I got back to the family they said they wanted to go as it may be different to an English farm. It was around this point that I realised I had a problem – I suddenly recalled that I had promised to visit my parents by train and was due there on the Thursday (today was Wednesday). I knew it would be very inconvenient to change this at the last minute but being in Brazil and also needing to visit a farm in Ecuador made for a dilemma. I cannot recall what happened after this. There was some suitcase weight issue I think, as always a problem with train platforms / airport check-ins, and possibly a coffee-related incident. There was definitely a toilet issue on the 2nd floor of a large spooky house which I have dreamt of before. The spookiness is always trumped – no pun intended – by the sheer grandeur of the mansion-like place and the number of toilets on each floor (which are far too regularly blocked or engaged.

If you would like to visit Ecuador, I recommend their farms.

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I am not sure if there was a farm in Camberwick Green or Trumpton or Chigley. I do know however that I did some Boblog research on the three towns and cannot now find it. How annoying is that. I do know that they each had the same number of episodes and that Chigley did not have many characters and most were visitors from the other two. I also know that Mrs Honeyman had three Pekinese dogs. Chigley was far more industrialised.

To be honest none of the three programmes have probably aged well. I am not sure how an episode centred round Windy Miller’s windmill would measure up for plot and dramatic cliffhangers against, for example, Line of Duty or The Flumps.

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As I took Ern and Max out for a run today I tried to identify my favourite 70s childrens programme theme tunes. I sang some in my head as well as singing / whistling some out loud to the squirrels.

My top 5 –

  1. The Flashing Blade (obvs)
  2. White Horses
  3. Grange Hill
  4. Roobarb and Custard
  5. Robinson Crusoe

Near misses included Murphy’s Mob, Follyfoot, The Desert Crusaders and Screen Test.

TFB was bad ass and the tune mirrored the opening sequences with swords, muskets, explosions and fisticuffs. White Horses was a lovely wistful one but as far as I recall the programme was complete bilge unless you liked white horses. I am now wondering if I should have put Robinson Crusoe higher up – full orchestral majesty and sad footprints in the sand…..

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Last night I watched the Netflix brand new film ‘Bird Box’ with Sandra Bullock. The Times gave it 1 star but I thought it was quite good. Just don’t take your blindfold off. Aaaaaargh!

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I just had to take a two minute break to dance to the Mr Blobby Xmas smash from the 90s for Mrs Bob. Bob Junior (male) was hanging his washing out and told me to stop stomping as I marched up and down the room. 24 hour party people us.

I had two nights out this week. On Tuesday I left work early to meet Steptoe. He told me off for being overexcited initially and for shouting instead of talking. I thought he was Mrs Bob in disguise at first. We then drank until they ran out of ale (well, four pints) and had a chip supper. I had a small chips and a sausage with salt and vinegar. For some reason Steptoe needed a large chips with his oi oi (saveloy) and had no seasoning. Embarrassing.

The next night it was beers with Big Foot. We met Stitches and The Prince and a load of others in a pub in Theydon. Me n Big Foot opted out of the late night curry so sat in a beer garden (we are hard lads) for another couple of beers. We got chatting to a woman who had just moved from Belgravia and had her Lindo clinic birth plans scuppered by a sudden arrival which meant she give birth in Harlow instead. The only way is indeed Essex, and her baby was not made in Chelsea. See what I did there?

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No other jaunts planned. Those of you who know me well will be aware that I have struggled with work-based Xmas bashes for some years now after becoming unwell round that time of year (associative low mood!) so that can keep me more sober than I might be at this time of the year. Looking forward to a chilled time with family, friends, red wine, cheese and crackers and After Eights.

Oo, East 17 are on tv now. I know the Stay Now single is not about Christmas but they do wear white fur trimmed jackets and get showered in white stuff.

When making a tomato and tuna past sauce do not dump a whole tin of anchovies in. Salty.

Courgettes. When facetiming my pal Rabbit yesterday, his wife Dutch picked tow courgettes from their garden and showed them off. Zucchini they call them in Oz. They call aubergines eggplants and apparently red peppers are marzipan or something. Oh, and they call tomatoes to-may-toes.

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Mrs Bob put the marzipan on her home made Christmas Cake tonight. I had a good lick ahead of her putting the icing on. It make it extra-moist. Yum.

We are having turkey and gammon on Xmas Day. Bleargh. Gammon is like slimy thick ham. I only have the turkey as I am semi-veggie. Cooking it in any way other than how Jamie Oliver would do it. Idiot. I bet Garth Crooks goes to his for Xmas along with Nigel Kennedy and Jose Mourinho. I bet you.

My ideal dinner guests would be Penelope Wilton, MC Hammer, Benny out of ‘Top Cat’ and Curly Ambrose. I don’t really know who the last one is but I like his name and he may know Curly Watts who used to be on Corrie. PW would be all posh like her character in The Good Life / To The Manor Born, but would get smutty rude after a few drinks so would be a laugh; MCH would hide food in his baggy trousers and would have us up dancing during the meal; Benny would just be super-cute and have lots of Dibble anecdotes; no idea about Curly as he is a mystery to me.

If I had named one of my children Curly I think Mrs Bob would have over ruled me. Curly Carey. My friend Steve Wurley would have had similar problems with his kids.

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Well that was a waste of time.

I have just checked out Curly Ambrose. Turns out his was called Curtly Ambrose. That has ruined the previous few (high class) paragraphs. Curtly??!! That is not even a word. I withdraw my dinner invitation. In his place I am inviting Jamie Oliver. We will all hide when he turns up and ignore him knocking on the door until he departs crying. Idiot.

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Well that was another exercise in futility. I hope you have learnt a few useful facts. If nothing, I am a teacher of life and the wisdom of the universe. Guru Bob if you will.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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3 thoughts on “As long as we have done our best, then no-one can do more, and life and love and happiness are well worth fighting for

  1. Double deckers: Get on board

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    1. Good call. They smiled too much whilst singing though which is a problem for me (and my kind)

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  2. Great festive reading in your mad world disappointed that I was not on your dinner party. Great choice of tunes on your children’s music mine would be four feather falls and cl5 all the best to my cockney chum

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