Merry Blooming Christmas

We were woken early in the morning not by Santa coming down the chimney but the flaming phone. First I looked at the clock and realized it was only 6:30am. It had to be my cousin Bob calling from BC as it was 2:30 his time and he was probably drunk and lonely as his family went off to bed .So what does he usually do; he calls us.

Then the voice said it is Alan. So I thought it was my brother-in-law calling from England. Right Country wrong Alan but it was an a good friend named Alan, who we met several years before in Cuba. He and his dear wife Marg called to wish us a very Merry Christmas. Yes the day had started off to be a very good day. We opened the champagne and mixed it with orange juice to toast them.

What a great way to start off the day. To be remembered by dear friends.

Merry Blooming Christmas to all and to all a Good Day.

Arabella Churchill

It has been over 35 years since since I last spent anytime with Arabella. I remember we met at Glastonbury at some party. Her and a Andrew Kerr talking about having a free festival in the Shepton Mallet area. Hence the Glastonbury festival was reborn it was in 1971. I worked on the first pyramid, it was made out of plastic sheeting and steel piping. It was suppose to be 1/10 the size of the one in Giza. I remember seeing sun dogs around it at the festival during one of the concerts, we turned to one another and said it was Angels.

I was saddened to hear about her passing away as she was a very beautiful person both inside and outside. She will be missed by one and all.

Trash or Treasure????

Well it has been an interesting few days here in Dartmouth, NS. You always hear that your home is your Castle. Well we woke up on Friday am. I went into our storage locker which is on the 3rd. floor same floor as what we live on. Saw that the stuff we have was strewn all across the floor and various storage boxes and medal cases from my self and my Fathers campaign medals were open and empty on the floor.

So I called the Supt. and said We have been broken into. I then called the police. Apparently a burglar had gotten into all the on floor storage lockers and did his or her Xmas shopping.

So the police came and on second look found nothing missing. They did managed to find our safe in the locker and didn't have time to break into it. They stole all the Xmas gifts that our friends had bought from their locker on the 5th. floor. I guess they did not have anymore space for our stuff. So the day went on.

I moved the safe back into our unit. then about 4 am on sat morning. I heard a noise in the hall way that wasn't normal. saw a figure breaking into our locker again. So I opened the door and went after him. Got enough of a description that he was spending the weekend in the local jail.

Again nothing was taken.!!!!

So I guess what we think is Treasure is someone else's Junk. Our stuff was not worth stealing even on the second attempt.
I think that is what upsets us the most. Even thieves have standards I guess.

A Glastonbury Tale

Well you have all heard of the Tales written by Chaucer. Well these are not so famous about my time in Glastonbury more infamous.

When I lived in Glasonbury I lived on the moors with the gypsies down Chancery Lane ( I believe). But before that we lived at the foot of the Glastonbury Tor in a Green Ford Thames van. Which for some reason we called it the orange bus. I cannot remember the reason d'être.

I was a vegetarian at the time it was the only way to get laid. As all the Hippy Girls were all non meat eaters, although they all wore leather etc. I worked in Appleby's Meat Processing Plant for 16.00 pounds a week they were located on the High Street.( that will be another story). Should I am Asked. When I used to get paid each week. We went to the local Farmer up the road and bought a barrel of Scrumpy Cider for a couple of quid. You knew it was good if the meat he threw into it the day before dissolved and only left the bone.

We had a Heinz 57 type of mongrel black dog or pup called Wearyall. He was born in the shadow of the Wearyall Hill were the Glastonbury Holy Thorn Tree was planted according to legend by Joseph of Arimathea. One Night close to the summer solitice there was 10 or 15 of us plus the dog. We were playing guitars and drinking Scrumpy and we had a large bon fire going. The stupid dog kept running through the fire ( jim always said the dog was brain dead) or playing with it. So as he was getting kind of singed I grabbed him and dunked him into the cider barrel to cool him off. He kept jumping into the fire and the more we dunked him in the cider , you guessed it he kept falling over from the cider

. As it was scrumpy we never tasted burnt hair of dog anyways. As it was so rut gut anyways but cheap and hit you like a mac truck.

Wearyall got so drunk he passed out on the ground and we continued to party until the sun came up and then marched up the Tor to see the sunrise. And to then run down the Tor at full tilt completely sozzeled, Hoping you did not fall over and break something.


The same day the local paper came out in Glastonbury. With the headlines " Hippies Sacrificing Animals to the Fire Gods last night at the foot of the Tor."

The dog was fine; a little hung over but no worse for wear. We tied him up in future; to stop sharing the cider with him.

Some People call me a HumpBack

Some people call me a Humpback,
I say, " That is a lie,"
"It is not that I have a Hump in my Back."

My Tie is caught in my Fly.
Oh, yah.

And I think I am going to die,
Oh, yah.

I am wearing a Bow Tie.
Oh, yah.

Flipping my Wig

They are coming to take me away today,
They are coming to take me away today,
To the Funny Farm,
Where the Birds and Bee's and the Flowers and the Tree's,
They are coming to take me away today,
Where everything is wonderful all day long,
To the funny Farm.

HA,HA,HA,HE,HE,HE


( This song is the Funny Farm song- You can find it with the original sound track at) http://www.funnybody.com/takemeaway.mp3

Male Selective Hearing "Myth or Real"

We have all heard of "Male Selective Hearing", which seems to be aliment which inflicts not only Men; but Women as well.

It is true when my spouse is chatting to me about something and the Telly is on, I am reading a book or the newspaper. What information she maybe trying to impart to me is going in one ear and out the other.

I just like to say that "men" are not the only ones who are bothered by this problem. "Women" are as guilty as we are.

The situations may be different but the same outcome. For example, how many of you gentlemen get into the family car after your wife or spouse has driven it for a time and notice that the radio is full blast. You turn on the car and straight away the radio's volume blows you out of the car. So what do you do you turn down or turn off the radio and take the car out for a drive or to get some more beer etc.

There is a strange noise that wasn't there before, a ping or clank, the engine sounds a little different that normal. So you listen to it for a while then it dawns on you what the trouble maybe. This I am sure our resident expert from the Jungle could explain better than I. About the Male's role in the wild listening out for sounds that could have negative effect on his safety and that of his family.

" Female Selective Hearing" has occurred. So you get home and ask if your wife has noticed anything different with the car lately, some noise, rattle? They always say " I heard that didn't know what it was so I turned up the radio so it would go away."

A case in point. I was out for a walk yesterday to meet my wife on her way home from work. I was cutting through the Dartmouth Sportsplex parking lot. When I heard this awful clank, clank, clank coming from behind me. I though it was Jason with his chain saw. Turned and saw this little old dear driving this grey car coming into the parking lot. As she got out of the car the music was deafening. I told her about the noise I was hearing as she was driving and said it sounds like the CV Joints or drive shaft about to give way.

She turned to me and glared " What noise, I do not hear anything." So I left it like that and continued to ponder in amazement on why I even bothered.

So you see, it affects us all. Sometimes in the same way; other times a little different but it still get's us both. "Male Selective Hearing" Bah Humbug!!!!!!!!!!

RRSP's not for everyone

Went to the TD Bank this morning to meet with the Mortgage Broker to discuss our potential renewal.
We would have a 16.00 penalty today if we early renewed now. Although we could save .567 % on the interest. Should we keep up the payments like we are , no mortgage in 4 years 21 weeks.

We could also go LOC and pay the principal anytime, but higher interest ; prime plus 2%.

Interesting factoid, was told that RRSP's are basically useless to someone if they end up with a good pension from their employer when they retire. Just because of the claw backs that the Tax man puts on it. They are very useful if one has no pension to fall back on and should the person start when they are younger. Or you stay within a smaller wage scale all your life.

So it is better for us to pay down the mortgage as quickly as possible as we are doing, than to invest in RRSP's. There is always the stock market but we went that route and lost big time on the Tech. stocks esp. Nortel. That we transferred over from Mutual's to RRSP"S.

Also got two ballots for the TV draw. What to do , What to do???????

Kitty, Kitty, OHHHHHH Kittyyyyyyyyy

Your rudest and best shot. It must be printable and not overly vulgar.

Free Stuff

Why is it that when one has a chance for something for nothing, you make the extra effort to go and get it.
Is it greed? Is it just the fact that you want it, even if you do not need it? We have several friends who Ginny and I call the Magpie's anything shiny and , it's squak,squak,swoop.

Life is indeed strange. TD-Bank has now extended their opening hours from 8am-6pm. At last a Bank that is open when the general public needs them to be open and 6 days a week. It's too bad most of our accounts are elsewhere. So I do not really feel as if I am a customer. There is a promotion this week the first 25 people through the door in the morning gets a $10.00 gift card for Chapters Books and a Green Shopping Bag one of those envrio friendly with the TD Logo on the sides.

I have 3 of each so far this week and we do not bank there, although we do have a mortgage and RRSP's with the TD.

I seem to be one of the first through and with me is a chap in a London Fog "jacket". He parks his BMW around the corner and waits like me to get his freebie. At least I walk down to the Bank from our 3 BR Condo. Well I will be there again tomorrow as the bags will go down to Cuba, the gift cards will be used for pressies for the gardener,supt etc. Next week there is a chance for a LCD Telly, so guess who will be there bright and early. MEeeeeeeeeeee. One can enter once each day and the draw will be on Friday.

They are not Airmiles or CDN. Tire money. I have been know to do some bin diving for stuff as well. A lot of the bits end up at the Trailer. I guess it is the old Flea-Marketeer in me having a hard time to let go, esp. when I know i could make some money out of the items. Well if you happen to get a gift card from us, you know where we got them.

Airmiles Rewards- the curse that keeps giving

I am mad about Air Miles reward miles. so I go to great lengths to get them. I even find out which people, we know or vaguely know, are going to sell their homes and get them to agree, for me to refer them to a Cent. 21 Real Estate Company Agent, so I can get more Air Miles, 200 to be exact.

I scour the flyers every week looking for Airmiles at the local stores. Buy $50.00 of Ivory soap and get 100 airmiles. We have enough soap to last 2 years. So far I have redeemed enough airmiles for 4 fights across Canada. A Stereo, Digital Camera,Printer & Gift Certificates for Christmas Pressies. I even have two credit cards that give Airmiles when you use them.

To say I have an obsession for Airmiles would be an understatement. Even after all that stuff, I still have a whack of them Airmiles and there is more stuff I want. Which I need, need, need, more Airmiles for. There is never enough Airmiles, I go to all the merchants who honour the card and usually pay more for the same items. Just to get moreeeeeeeeeee.

The other day, I went to Lawtons ( local Chemist Shop) looking for Soy Isoflavone Complex.

If you never heard of this, you are not alone. Maybe because your spouse hasn't hit Menopause yet. Well I am finally getting to my point after going all around the houses.

I have been looking for this for some time as there has been 40 extra airmiles when you spend $15.00 on Webbers Vitamins and Minerals. Also it is very hard to find the Soya pills.. So I went to Lawtons and asked them if they still made this product or has there been a recall or something..

The store clerk thought I was from another planet. Trying to explain how to spell the item; let alone say it. Well Ginny had already only 6 months supply in the cuboard and well there was 40 AIRMILESSSSSSSSSSSSSS. So we need it.

So I went in today to see if they had any. I didn't want to waste money on a lot of things I do not need. Remember every time you spend $15.00; you get to get more AIRMILESSSSSSSSSSSS. So I bought all they had. Now as each bottle is only $11.39, I need more of something made by Webbers to make up the difference.

So I pick up, A&D vitamins, B16, Chromium,Folic Acid(good if your pregnant, not needed when you are menopauseal), Saw Palementto ( makes smaller prostate). Had no idea what it was for but it helped to add up to the required $15.00 and then some,so I bought it checked it out at home. Need it, only for the Airmiles.

Of course I only looked at the price of each item to see that it was $15.00 for two things or just a little over. To make matters worse I stood in a long line up at the check out and dutifully used my credit card and airmiles card for each mulitple of 15.00 dollar purchses to insure that I was credited with the extra bonus amounts of.................. (Glad I am not wasting any money, on stuff we do not need.)

WHAT, DO I HEAR YOU," GROAN AND SAY ; AIRMILESSSSSSS." Yes the dreaded Airmiles. More, More,Moreee. HA,HA,HA,HA! Little mad scientist thrown in there for effect.

Of course the clerk thought I am completely mental and I am. I now can get more stuff from the Airmiles Catalogue. Wait I just got an email from ,you guessed it Airmiles. There is another sale, I got to go. Only have to drive 100 miles to the nearest Rona Hardware Store.

HEY, Mermaid . How many Toilet Seats do you want!!!!!!!!!!!!! 10 or 12 Yay, more AIRMILESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

Busking at the Victoria and Albert Museum

Years ago after I was asked to leave the Order of ST. Francis of Assisi ( Church of England). I went down to London to see the Queen, just like Dick Whittington. But Instead of being Lord Mayor, I lived in a cardboard box in and around Covent Gardens. I guess my down fall as a religious came from being asked to work with an all Girls Teachers College in Alnwick. I was as keen to get out of the "Habit" as they were to get into my "Habit". The only vow I could keep was "poverty" as "chasity and obiedence" went out the door. Hey I kept one!!!!

I then met up with some Aussies and Kiwis and went to stay behind the Kensington Olympia. We all were working for a Temp. Agency who hired us to deliver mail for GKN Sanky during the Postal Strike in 70. We used to have a pipe full in the morning afternoon and several times in the evening. It was very surprising that we delivered any mail at all. Got to see a lot of London from one side to the other.

On weekends I used to go Busking in the Underground or in the West End. One Saturday, I ended up in South London outside of the Victorian and Albert Museum. So as I had no idea where I was or why I was here I opened my guitar case and started to play on the street corner. I must of looked rather weird to most people. Standing out in the cold in sandals and my monks robes of brown and my Friars cape with its little hood. Long Hair in Braids and I was told peacock feathers in my hair. I must of stole them from a local Hari Krishna Shrine. I was making a lot of money, a couple of pounds then which would set me up for a day or two in beer and food.

I remember being forced to move by the local security or Bobbies , so I moved up around the corner. And started to play once again to my delight anyways. It was around then that this rather large Class A bus stopped about 20 feet from where I stood. The engine didn't want to start and the noise coming from the motor was awful. Not nearly as bad as the fowl language coming from inside the bus. Eventual some long hair chaps got out of the bus, with several joints in their mouths. I asked if I could have a toke or 6. As we were enjoying the last of the smoke one of the guys asked me if I knew anything about fixing starter motors. I said no. But I can say a prayer in Latin. So They let me pray over the bus. I leaned my hands on the bus , more for support at that moment than for religious reasons. I mumbled some prayer and sang some Gregoiran Chant I knew from the Friary.

Lo and behold the damn bus started. The guys turned around to me and asked me if I knew how to play rythmn and blues. I answered I have only being playing for a few months. If it was "A" "B" D7" "G" and "E". I could do that. So I was ushured onto the bus full of other musicians. I was now part of a Rock Band without even playing a note. I found out later that day that the guys were Deleany of Deleany and Bonnie and his band members. John Mayall, Steve Katz from Blood Sweat and Tears and a young Mick Taylor and later on I got to play with Eric Clapton as well( several weeks later). I never was very good but looked cool and sang very well so they put up with me. We were off to Maidenhead ( someplace that direction anyways) to do an outdoor concert. Where I got to play my beat up old Martin and sang melody on the stage with the rest of the band. The band members later became part of the Dominos for Derick and the Dominos.

Come into the light

Anything to avoid more photos of Hoff

It is a shame when you are forced to do something when you have nothing really interesting to say. But to avoid a major threat of more photos of the hoff.

The workmen have finally moved on to another part of the building and we can finally see the blue sky without looking out and seeing their rear end sticking out of their pants.

The work is painfully slow and more extensive than was first thought. As the front of the building had to be rebuilt and now they are running out of money and so probably come back to the dry bank account to bleed us a little more.

Well , it's only money!!

NEW HOME WARRANTY

For those of you thinking about buying a new Home or Condo. The words and document "New Home Warranty" is not worth the paper it is writen upon.

We sold our old home and bought a new condo, thinking that all the repairs and problems would be solved by a little piece of paper that says New Home Warranty. It is suppose to be good for all major flaws and problems for a period of 10 years. Who was to know that as soon as the document was given to us by the builder that , it was then worthless.

It gave us a real nice warm fuzzy feeling. To think that we wouldn't have to take good money and throw it away on home repairs. ( I realise the only fuzzy warm feeling; I got in truth was that of similiar to an overdose of Syrup of Figs).

We (all the tenants had to fork out over 300,000 dollars to fix problems that should not have happened to a 4 year old building. The Builder went bankrupt and so you cnnot sue him, although he is building still under another company name. The Atlantic New Home Warranty people went bankrupt because of all the claims. It will cost us more money to go after the Insurance company who underwrote the New Home Warranty people.

They do not cover for water intruison caused by negeligence caused by poor building practices. As they do not consider it a structual problem. What's not structual!!!!

The Walls were all ripped out from the outside brick to the gyprock
on the inside and had to be rebuilt. and they consider that not structrual. All support beams and joists also had to be replaced. Give me a F@@@ing break.

So beware any homes under 10 years old are probably built inferior and that is because of the council cutting down on the building inspectors from 8 visits and inspections at a building site to 4 visits.

So the new Home warranty is only useful to wipe your arse on, as it only covers
about that much % of your investment.

SOME RUDE LAD!

It has been a while since my last entry. I know you all have been waiting with bated breath for more of my ramblings.

Many years ago during the time of the Norman Invasion of Britain. I lived a quiet life with my grandparent's in a little town called Collingwood, Ontario.
I blamed everything that went wrong whether I caused it or not on some "Rude Lad".

One week was particularly memorable, as "The Rude Lad" was in trouble more than usual. My Grandfather was a very proud English Man from Crewe, he was one of 8 children who came over with his parents from Stafford shire to a new life in the wilds of Canada. He was a Ridgway one of the Ridgway Tea and China ilk; although I believe a his father was one of the younger sons who got nothing but the name. He and his Brothers and two in-laws all served in WWI and they all came back to Canada. He was also training to go into the Priesthood (Vicar) , so he was a Proud Protestant and a member of the local Orange Lodge in Collingwood. My Grandmother was a Heis, she was of German descent a direct relative of the Kaiser and she was Roman Catholic.

My family might have been the stuff that the "Irish Rovers" Wrote about in their "Orange and the Green". Who knows. It made great sport for half of the Family jeered the other at "St. Patrick's Day" marches and when the "Orange Men" marches the other half jeered them. Then they all got together for a family dinner and then went to the local Legion for refreshment.

Now back to the story a, before I put you all to sleep . My grandfather who was John by the way. Loved to deck himself out when he went to a Lodge meeting and to put on his best Fedora. Which he kept safely in a hat box in the bottom of his cedar chest with a lock on it. He would take it out with white gloves on; then brush the rim very carefully and make sure the feathers were all in place and admire himself in the mirror, before venturing out in the night air to the Lodge. If it was raining he would cover up the hat with some thing to keep it from getting ruined and do the same ceremony to put it back in place when he got back home.

Needless to say one day Granddad forgot to lock his cedar chest. The "Rude Lad" discovered this event and took advantage of the fact. Although so I understand as I was told by the "Rude Lad" of what transpired with his Fedora.

Grand Father came down the stairs with his face awash in disbelief and I think shock and dismay as well. He took his hat out of the hat box to show my Grandmother and the rim was torn in half the whole thing looked as though it was chewed up by a dog and crushed beyond recognition as to what it was. It took him several years of saving up and having it shipped from the Old Country , so he loved this hat.

He looked me straight in the eye and pointed at me. As if I would know what happened to it. I told him directly without flinching that I didn't do it Granddad. It was some "Rude LAD" that did it. He patted me on the head and said" I know you wouldn't do this , It certainly was done by a; "Rude Lad" do you know what happened to my best Fedora?"

Well Grand Dad. The "Rude Lad" saw that your cedar chest wasn't locked and took your hat box out of the bottom of the chest . He was looking for sweets and when he didn't see any . The "Rude Lad" opened your hat box to peek and see what was there. It wasn't me! It was the "Rude Lad". He then put it on his head and started to jump around the room and "Duke" came running in (Duke was our Great Dane). That only followed orders from a 5 year old. He knocked the "Rude Lad" over and the hat tumbled to the floor and rolled. Duke then grabbed hold of it and started to chew it up. The "Rude Lad' quickly grabbed it and tried to get it away form Duke. Who thought it was a game and held on to it even harder. So it was pulled and yanked and torn up.

It wasn't me, Granddad it was Duke and the "Rude Lad". The "Rude Lad" then stomped on it to keep it from duke who also trod on it. He then jumped on it and squished it all up and put it back in your hat box and closed the cedar chest and put the lock on it. So you wouldn't notice what he had done.

Granddad, I was told was almost busting out with laughter at the very bold face lie I was telling him. He then patted me on the head, told me I was a good boy and not at all like the "Rude Lad". He put the Hat on his head the brim hanging around his neck and the rest of the hat in tatters and boldly strode out to the Lodge meeting. I am not sure but I thought I heard laughter coming down from the street as he walked up the road.

The Dog was found a new home the same week, I never really figured that out until years later. The "Rude Lad" had no supper that night, I am sure; and a sore bottom.

Duke had already that week destroyed my Grandmothers white and purple polka dot dress. That was hanging on the washing line and as he was asleep on the washing line stand. The dress blew upon him once too often from the wind and he ate the sleeves. We also destroyed one of my Grandmother's favorite quilts playing " El Toro" and he ate his way through that as well. A 120lb. dog was a little much for my Mother's pocket book to keep replacing damaged things.. I imagine she was looking for the receipt to send me back to Eatons as well. ( Please look at earlier story).

BUT IT WASN'T ME!!!! IT WAS THE " SOME RUDE LAD".

More and More of the Past Disappears

To Blog or not to Blog? That is a good question. Is it more noble to be rude on someone else's space or to retire to that dusty corner in the attic, where all the the family archives go.

It's like that Christmas cake you get and not eat ,so you pass it on to someone else. And a few years later it magically appears back in your keeping.

When you get older and it comes to us all. You start to think about your mortality and what will happen when it's your turn to go. This happen's after you lose your parents or close friend's and you inadvertently open a box or old tin full of family photos that you having no clue as to who they are or where they were taken.

It's sad each generation that passes, we lose so much. Not just in the lack of really skilled craftsman. Eg. The Cathedrals, there are no skilled people who would take several generations or centuries to build something; it is totally unheard of today. Its the reason these beautiful buildings exist today. Not some knock-up that last for 20 or so years. We are so busy, that everything has to be done now or yesterday.

I remember vaguely trying to be interested in the stories both my Mother and my Grandmother told me about the photo's and their lives. Instead I day dreamed of going out playing with my friends or watching the Telly. So now that I am much older, the family oral tradition's are getting to be very important to me. As many of you have reasoned out by now that I am the Mermaid's sire.

So if my blog turns out to be boring and full of ante dotes, it's because I do not want these stories to be lost forever when its my time to go. With MM over in the UK and me here in Nova Scotia, it feels good to blog to each other. I kind, of get the feeling of how she is doing and know when to call and when not too. I miss her writing, if things haven't changed for a few days as then I start to worry whether she is OK.

Now if only someone could help me figure out how to post the picture from my desktop to the blog. I keep getting post URL , try and get nothing. I can get the photo in the text of the post but want it up on the comments page. The master must become the student.

So if any of you have the time to teach this old dog some tricks of the information age. MM and I worked at it for a long time to no avail. Perhaps I need to change something in the tools section?

Help and Thank you

Tire Swing and Cigarettes-Life in Stephenville NFLD

We lived on Maxwell Street in StephenVille, NFLD. in the mid -to late 50's. In those days there was only about 30 miles of paved road in the whole province. Newfoundland had only just entered Canada as Great Britain got rid of her poor cousin.

It was a small and dingy 2 bedroom, kitchen and living room combination. It had a shared bathroom with the front unit. My dad put in the bath tub and the indoor plumbing as the place didn't even have running water when we moved in.

The roof leaked and the window sills let cold air in. The only thing that lived in the house before us I think were the roaches and mice. It was the 2nd house on the right side of the road and we lived next door to the Gallant family.

One of my best friends was Jackie Gallant who lived in the back unit while his grandfather lived in the front. Jackie was one of 7 or 8 kids in the family , I do not remember if he was the oldest or youngest. As it was about 50 years ago, when I first met him. I looked over the fence and he called me some name, I jumped over the fence and pounded him some good. We became best of mates.
Jackie's family were RC and went to the Catholic School on the main Street. While I went around the corner to the regular school.

We had a large dog named Toby, he was part Great Dane and part German Shepard. So he was rather large and lots of teeth and mean but liked kid's. We used to give him Dog Cookies, "Milk Bones" I think. As they were in different colours. My Mom and Dad figured Toby ate these rather fast and bought him a lot of boxes of these things. He was around 120 lbs. So he did eat a lot of food.

One morning, early around 6 a.m., Mom was by the door and heard children's voices outside in the front Hall. We had just let Toby out and put out a bowl of food (Gravy Train) and a bowl of milk Bones. She peered out the door and saw Jackie and his siblings outside eating the Dog's Cookies. She heard Jackie say to his brothers and sisters. " Mrs. Girard is real kind to us as she leaves these great cookies out each morning for us to eat and take to school. Mom really likes the green ones and I prefers the black ones." So the dog just lay ed there; while the neighbourhood kids filled their pockets and mouths with the dog's breakfast. She never stopped buying the cookies and the Gallant children always had cookies in the morning for school.

I was 8 years old when my parents bless them, bought me 2 cartons of "Buckingham Cigarettes" for my B'day. It might have been two packages; it could have been two boxes for all I know. They were trying to get me to stop smoking. I had to smoke that brand and I couldn't smoke their "Players" and I had to pay for my own.

I smoked for almost 30 plus years and was up to almost 4 packs a day when I quit. I was the envy of the Gang and I was the only kid in school that had a note from his Mother that gave me permission to smoke. In those days they were the worst and the strongest cigs. you could buy and cost 38 cents a package. I used to sell them for 5 cents each to the kids at school so I always had cigarettes and was the leader of the local gang, thanks to Mom and Dad.

Think of it an eight year old who could smoke in front of his parents and behind their backs and had a note at the Sweetlands Corner Store giving me permission to buy only "Buckingham's". Every time the school took the smokes from me, Mom would call them and I get them back with a promise not to smoke on school property or sell them to the kids on the premises. So I waited off the school grounds or went to the RC School where I wasn't a student and peddled my cigarettes.

Now, for the real reason for the story. The Tire Swing. Dad put up a tire swing in our back yard or side yard in an old maple tree. The fence divided the property between the Gallants and our house. As I mentioned earlier Jackie's, Grandfather lived in the front and didn't talk to his son who lived in the back. The local kids used to hang out at our place and play on the tire swing.

Jackie's grandfather always complained to Dad about the tree that it cast a shadow on his home. On night we heard an almighty crash and thought it was thunder so Dad went back to bed. He was snapped on home brew anyways as was per normal for him.

We woke up next morning and the entire tree was missing , stump and all; just a large hole in the ground and the tire swing and rope were left on the ground. The fence was broken down and the yard was all torn up.

In Mr. Gallant seniors yard was the tree all cut up into firewood. Dad was going to call the Mounties but as he had a "Still" in the garage and "Home Brew" in the baby's crib in my room on the go. I am the only child by the way.

They did some strange things to hide the illegal booze from the RCMP in those days. Dad, decided that bootlegging was more important than getting busted.

About a week later Jackie's dad and my father got together over a few drinks and stole the wood from the old man , we had enough fuel for the winter. Life was weird on Maxwell Street, but never a dull moment.

Harry Potter Ending- What a Crock!!!!

For those of you who are thinking of buying the book. Do not bother. She lets him live. It shows you what a dumb ass this woman is. Do I think she has any talent. NO, none what so ever. What's with the bit 19 years later? Potter and his wife take their rug rat to the train station to go to Hogwarts.

Rowlings will be trying for a sequel. Save yourself, more crap from this writer is on the way. Dosen't she realize , she is going the way of the "Beanie Babies" and will become the Hack that she is.

I went to Walmart, looked at the ending and saved myself a lot of money for Rubbish.

So shoot the messenger. It will save me the trouble.

Minnesota Slim "The Pool Hall Sharkette"

There are many of you who are avid fans of Snooker/Billiards; who would of heard about the man called "Minnesota Fats'. His real name was I believe Ralph Markerone ( I probably spelled his name incorrectly, so for those of you I have offended 'Sorry".). He changed his name to "Minnesota Fats" after the movie with Paul Newman came out called the "Hustler". He was a real Hustler and showman and was a real character. I had the pleasure of playing him one summer in Wasaga Beach Ont. I lost a lot of money to Him and was brought down a peg or three but made me a better person because of the experience. ( I should say at the time it was called OakView Beach where we lived, there where 3 beach's that now make up the Provinical Park of Wasaga Beach "Brock,OakView, Wasaga").

At the OakView Beach Restaurant, Pool Hall and Convience Store that my Mother owned for a number of years in the mid to late 60's and early 70's.

That is another story, for another time. The real story is dedicated to my Mother who was affectionately known as "Minnesota Slim". The Who, How and Why she got that name.

In those days at the Beach it was a major hangout for various Biker gangs such as the "Vagabonds, Satan's Choice and Black Diamond Raiders". You used to be able to see several Hundred Bikers from the various Groups and a lot of wannabees on the main drag during the summer season. Reving their engines shouting at each other and fighting one another for turf and to be noticed how tough they were or thought .

There was a lot of property damage as well as injuries and a few deaths caused by all these different gangs trying to get control of the Wasaga Beach and area.

The Police Department at the beaCH was under funded and only 2 or 3 staff. They used to close up at 5 pm on weekdays and weren't open on the weekends , the OPP from Stayner took over in the evenings and the weekends. The Beach was a major tourist mecca. With one of the longest fresh water beaches in the Province of Ontario. Just 100 miles north of Toronto. It was full of Hotels and bars, Midway rides,go carts and etc. So it was a real haven for both the nice and not so nice. The sand dunes up at the end of the beach were notoroius for the various goings on. I was inviited by the Bikers to several parties there , with my connection to the Pool Hall. I saw a lot of stuff, I should have never have seen at my young age.


In the winter and off season just 1300 people called it home. On long weekends close to a 1,000,000 came and went to Wasaga Beach and Area.

I just wanted to give a little background for my story of "Minnesota Slim".

As I mentioned before She owned a Pool Hall and as the Beach attracted a lot of unsavory Characters ( including yours truly). On any given day it was not unusual to see 10 or 20 Bikes outside the Oakview Lunch. The OPP would often sit in their patrol cars up the road and watch. The Biker Gangs would often have their meetings at my Moms Place. they would call up or come in and book a weekend at the Oakview Lunch in advance.

She would close down the place to the general public so gangs could come and go and play pool and eat for the weekend and have their meetings. I must say because Mom treated them with respect, they treated her with respect and she never had any trouble. She warned them about no drugs allowed ,no weapons, they pay for everything they eat and drink and also clean up after them when they leave. It was ok to bring alcohol there as Mum liked to have a few beers.

She warned them she had a loaded 410 under the counter and would used it if they got rowdy or out of control. And wouldn't let them back again. They never caused us any trouble. As it was the only neutral place for them to hang out at the Beach. Sort of a mini Switzerland.

It was the Biker Gangs that named her "Minnesota Slim". She was about 5 foot 2 and 100 lbs at the most soaking wet. She had a wicked sense of humor and had dentures that never fitted right and they would fall out more often than not. She liked her beer and smoked like a chimney and swore like a trooper. She loved to play Pool with the guys esp. a couple of bikers named "Stretch" and "Tiny" . They were Road Captains or Club Presidents at the time and dwarfed Mum by several feet and 150 plus pounds. She used to cheat so bad, she add their points unto her score and then look them in the face daring them to say something about it.

As Marg ran the Pool Hall , She also ran the Bikers , whilst they were there. Down the road they could do what the wanted, when they left her premises.

Marg was well loved by these great brutes and when they got her laughing , her teeth would fall out on the table and it would but crank up the hooting and hollering even more. Cigarette stuck in her mouth and pool cue in hand with her skinny leg up on the table trying to make a shot. They always paid in full and gave her some pressie for the trouble and lifted her off the floor with their hugs.

There weren't always the same faces each time a meeting came around at the OakView Lunch, life was hard for them and attrition was high amongst the Bikers as their life style was not condoned by Mum or the citizens at large. She let sleeping dogs lay and they left her alone. We never had a break-in at the Beach as the place was under the dubious protection of the various Gangs. No one dared.

The business closed in 1972 or 73 and sold to someone else. I was over in the UK at the time, working somewhere and playing music both on stage and on the street. (that's another story for another day)

I got a bunch of flowers; years later and a card from them after my Mother passed away.To say how much they liked Marg and were sorry that she had gone. For she had a real positive effect on a lot of them for the good, it turned out.

My Cousin Lynn Johnston who writes the comics "For Better or Worse". Included a Strip in her cartoons on a lady who ran a pool hall. She asked me for permission as she was basing it loosely on Mum. So check it out.

Fear of the Eaton's Catalogue

For those of you who may have fears. Fear of Flying, Fear of cats, Fear of Heights, etc. I am sure that you get my drift. I am talking about a real Fear, one that haunted your very existence, that filled you with dread and a sense of impending dooooooooom.

I grew up in Stephenville, Nfld. It was the poorer side of the tracks. the American Airbase was one side of the creek , they had the paved roads, street lights, swimming pool and all the mod cons ( as mod as they could have been in the 1950's.)

On the Cnd. side we had gravel roads, dirt side streets, Tar paper houses,Saloon Bars with the old west style swinging doors. Black and White films and no chairs for the kids matinee. You could buy Lobster for a 25 cents on the Beach below the Church on the hill. So you get the drift of the idyllic place I called home.

It was a great life, you steal copper wire from one junk yard and sell it to another. Where I got a taste for Home Brew, Cigarettes, Sling Shots,Breaking Windows and getting into Trouble once in a while.

I must not have been that much of a joy to my parents. I was well liked by the gang I hung around with as I had the meanest dog in the neighbourhood and beat the heck out of anyone who disagreed with me.

Every once in a while about 4 or 5 times a year I lived in real fear for my life.
The "EATONS" Catalogue would show up somehow at my home. I never knew then that it was sent to your house so you could order clothes and stuff from the glossy pages, on a regular basis.

My Mom, would kind of reach a major breaking point caused my bad behaviour. I always thought I was a good boy and that it was always some other rude lad that did all the damage. And got me into trouble. It was my excuse anyways!!!

It seems at these times that she would pull out this Evil Book and show me all the pictures of nice looking little boys and girls in their clean outfits. In those days they didn't have actual pictures of live models but a cute picture that some artist painted with the clothing that they were selling. So the same picture was used a lot in the edition.

Mum would say" See that little boy doesn't he look nice. I bet he wouldn't cause me so much heart ache and trouble as you are doing to me ;Donald"
She only ever called me "Donald" when I was really naughty. Come to think of it I never remember her calling me anything else, over the course of my life.

She would go on to say. "See that little boy, I think I will order him from the catalogue and send you back to Eaton's , where Your Father and I got you from in the first place. I have my receipts in those Shoe boxes and once I find it. I will send you back. I was looking for it already , just haven't located it yet. But I will, one of these days and you will get sent back to Eatons. And I will get that little boy to come and live with us. Instead of you, you HORRIBLE, ROTTEN, LITTLE BRAT $#@%^&%$#@#$%."

Mom also was a packrat she keep every scrap of paper, receipts, cards, letters. So I lived in real fear for my life. As the Shoe boxes would be open and she would be going through the stuff on a regular basis, looking for my Eatons Receipt. I always was told to send me back and get another little boy who was good. ( I never realized that as Adults you have to keep stuff for taxes, respond to various other requests, etc.)

My Mother always looked forward to the Eatons Catalogue. As we lived in Newfoundland in the 50's they didn't have many stores to buy stuff from.
So the arrival of the Catalogue was a social event for my Mum. It was shear hell for me as I tried to behave myself but I had a reputation to uphold and so heard "DONALD" a lot in those days.

On Day close to my 7th B'day my Mother just snapped. I do not know if it was me, Dad, work, or what it was. I expect it was a combination of a lot of things. But as usual I got the blame. I had never ever seen her, go off the deep end , like that before. The veins on her forehead sort of exploded and my backside was sorer than normal. I ran out of the house howling and holding by backside which felt as if it would burn off.

I came back a few hours later and no one was in the house. The shoe boxes were all opened and papers where strewn all over the floor and table. The hated Eatons Catalogue was opened and a order form was on the page.

I knew without a shadow of a doubt my life was over. I started to cry and run around screaming my head off. She found the Eaton's Receipt and I was about to be sent back. I had a temper tantrum that would have almost equalled "Paris Hilton" now a days. Went into a state of terror and foreboding anda sulk like I never ever experienced before. Then an idea formed in my twisted little mind. Receipt found, me sent back.

If no receipt; I could not be sent back. As I couldn't read that well and hadn't a lot of time as mom wasn't very far away. I had to destroy the receipts somehow.

It just so happened that we had an old Enterprise cast iron stove that used wood and coal for fuel. It was used both for cooking and for heat. I thought in my panic. "The Stove, the Stove." I grabbed as many boxes as I could carry and shoved the contents of the shoe boxes into the stove as fast as I could. The stove was starting to glow red hot and the heat was so intense that sweat was running off the walls.

The door suddenly opened a draft as cold as the very depths of hell decended upon me and I knew my fate was sealed. The look on my Mother's face stopped time and peeled the skin from my body as she realized what I had done. I looked at her in sheer terror and yelled" You can't send me back now."

And hit I the floor hard as she belted me with her handbag or something.

I could not sit down for weeks as I got a hiding almost everyday for destroying her stash of stuff. But the years went by and I was still called "Donald" and other things on a regular basis but I was never sent back to Eatons. I guess I found the right receipt after all!!!!!!!

Toilet Rolls is there a right way to place them?

Well here I am again. As the Mermaid is asleep and my Ball and Strife is out at work.

I have the keyboard to myself. So many people have pondered this issue and countless marriages and relationships have gone down the crappper over the Question.

DO YOU LET THE TOILET ROLL HANG UNDER OR OVER?

Is better to be able to let the paper hang down so you can get it easier and not have to grope in shear panic as the need arises. Or does it look better over and so not as messy looking in the Bathroom.

This week it appears that my home has been invaded by a paper over person who insists on changing the role everytime I put it back to under. Wars and Political insability have been caused over stuff less serious than correct bathroom procedure.

But why all the fuss? Surely the job in hand is more imprtant than the presentation and it all goes down the flush the same. So why do we waste so much time and effort on this meaningless gesture. It is purely a matter of personal preference.

On the other hand! Those people who do not have a toilet roll holder and simply plonk the toilet roll down on the toilet or floor. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. Cause nothing but turmoil to the other 2/3 of Society and should be banned to a deserted island, with nothing but pay toilets and have no change and only notes.

We were talking to some Pirates in the Halifax Hbr. Who use 2 ply as opposed to single ply to put in their cannons with black powder and then fire it off. It gives off a lot of sparks and smoke and bits of fire. It looks and sounds great.

Why on earth would someone buy single ply when 2 ply is the same price and a lot nicer. I THINK ITS THE SAME PEOPLE WHO PLONK THEIR TOILET ROLLS DOWN ON THE FLOOR OR OTHER HARD SURFACE. SO IT CAN GET FULL OF GERMS AND OTHER CRAP. So the rest of us can complain that it is not "Over or Under."

Shouting on the internet

It is a sad, sad, sad world, when the older folks seem to get left behind in the technological world.
AS I have been told that one can not use "UPPERCASE LETTERS AS IT ONLY MEANS YOU ARE SHOUTING ". It is a shame when one gets so old that you need all the help you can get to read. I have tried bottles of rum but the vision only gets blurrrry.

The Mermaid of Moorgate is a tough cookie. Life is so fast paced now a days. You do not have time to smell the roses. I also seem to have a lot of thorny people behind me watching what I am doing. I am a Flower child who has gone from"POT" to"Seed".

So in the words of JIMMY Noseworthy "BACK UP", Seagulls fly with the back Up" F@@##$$%%^^&^&&*.