grumpyf1

Remind me NEVER to do this again... Depending on which part of Cumbria you happen to be reading this in, I’m either that strange-looking new guy that’s only been around for a couple of months, or that weird-looking old guy who’s got in the way of proper news each of the last 301 Fridays. Good news either way – I’m away for a couple of weeks. Part holiday, part house move. If any of you are currently going through the same nightmarish world of solicitors, estate agents, worrying about when you’ll exchange and where you put the parcel tape, I sympathise. It is a very odd experience to take all your belongings, wedge them into boxes and then hand them over to a couple of guys you don’t know and trust that they’ll show up at your new place with it all. Last time I moved, VHS tapes were the heavy/bulky stuff, along with vinyl records. Now it’s DVDs and CDs. Should I ever move again, I’ll just need to make sure the right cloud follows me. There’s always that worrying moment when ...

I had a lovely holiday - thanks for asking. No I didn’t being any rock back. But the de-stress started with an unscheduled defrost. We were really looking forward to our break. A relaxing seven days of walking, eating cakes, drinking cappuccinos, eating cakes, mooching around shops and eating cakes. Did I mention the cakes? A short hop to the Yorkshire Dales meant no middle-of-the-night alarm call to struggle through the dark and hang around at an airport. No “who’s got the passports?!” moments. No wondering why people are drinking at breakfast time whilst you’re looking at a pile of Toblerone. We had coffee in bed, then after a leisurely shower I went downstairs for breakfast. Devouring my cereal, something seemed odd. The flakes and milk tasted fine, but something was... different. It was very quiet, too. On putting the milk back in the fridge, the penny dropped. The fridge wasn’t fridgey any more. It was room temperature. As were the contents. The freezer section was still...

Hello. I’m away on holiday right now – unless you’re a burglar. If so, I’m fetching the baseball bat I keep in the cellar and practising my swing. As I am enjoying some vaguely deserved time off, catching some sun and warmth in the south of Oxfordshire and bits of Hampshire, I’m clearly not able to write a newspaper column this week. (Whoever said “Nothing new there, then” I’m watching you.) Instead, this is the journalistic equivalent of that annoying “Out of Office” message you always seem to get when you email someone about something really urgent. In an effort to ensure the impossibly high standard of quality you have come to expect from me is retained, I’ve tried to cover as many news stories as possible in advance, leaving you with some multiple choice options to drop in to fit whatever has you hurling abuse and the cat at the TV this Friday night. For example, this one should set the scene nicely: What about that insert name here ? Honestly, isn’t it about time th...

When I returned from holiday to work recently, I had 180 emails. I was chuffed, as I was expecting a lot more. In the past, over 300 hasn’t been uncommon for a week away from the office. I’m assuming that, should I ever go away for more than two weeks, hitting four figures is entirely possible. I’ll then need another holiday to recover once I’ve cleared them. A sense of creeping dread always accompanies the last couple of days of precious freedom, with the knowledge of the impending email marathon looming large on the horizon. The fact that everyone you see during your first morning back asks how your break was, and allows you enough time to say “It rained quite a lot, and I caught Ebola...” before jumping in and asking what you’re doing about their email, doesn’t help. Apparently, replying with “I reckon I’ll hit Tuesday before lunch, so if you sent it after that come back tomorrow.” is considered unhelpful, whilst saying “Email? I can’t even remember who you are.” is ‘u...

Evenin', my lovelies! Ahm back from t'week int Yorkshire Dales. It were reet grand. They even had electricity and cappuccinos, which was a nice surprise. Weather was good too. Anyway, I'm aware I owe you a North West Evening Mail column or two, and the Fantasy Formula 1 stuff from Monaco. I shall get right on it. Nay bother, lad. I must stop doing that - it didn't go down well in Yorkshire, either... (Back with a spot of the Blues - Lightnin' Hopkins's "Texas Blues" to be precise.)