grumpyf1

I hope you’ve had a good week? However good it was, I had custard on Tuesday, so unless you won the Lotto, I reckon I win. In fact, the only thing that could have made the week much better would have been to have custard on the other days too. I’m not big on making plans, but I think that’s an achievable goal for next week. It’s been a heady seven days for proper, old-fashioned, food in our house too – we had some pork scratchings on Monday – admittedly, they were a bit “artisanal” (which I think means the pig was good at painting), gluten free, and therefore £1.45 for a very small packet, but we did purchase them in the food hall at a historic house. I’ve come a long way from the budget version I used to consume with a pint down my local. They came in a clear bag sealed with tape, and it wasn’t uncommon to discover that the poor porker had met it’s maker before having a decent shave. Still, two comfort food items from my past in two days is definitely an achievement. If I...

Thirty years ago you took O-Levels, Den was yet to serve divorce papers on Angie, you had no Neighbours and Freddie Starr was (allegedly) eating hamsters. Oh, and I went to the best gig ever. Friday, the 11th of July, 1986. I was 19, and I had big hair. I also owned a very nice grey leather jacket, which I was paying for in weekly instalments to the lady over the road with the catalogue. The world was my oyster, although fish fingers were more my level of sophistication. I had yet to try lasagne, had no idea why anyone would want a frothy coffee, and lived at home with my parents, who were distinctly unimpressed with my taste in music. Or possibly the volume. What else was a teenage lad to do? Computers barely existed (IBM were just releasing the ‘PC Convertible’, a concept so radical no-one had thought of calling it a ‘laptop’ yet), mobile phones were the size of a brick, price of a house, and only did what their name suggested, and there are only so many games of Monopoly you...

Christmas Eve, 2015. David Cameron is awoken again from his sleep by a wailing noise, as a third ghostly apparition appears... “Oh for Heaven’s sake? What is it now!” grumbled David, as his final spirit visitation stood in the dark corner of the room, chuckling quietly. He couldn’t quite see the spooky visitor, but it appeared to have blondish hair. “I am the ghost of future times!” cackled the apparition, in a Cumbrian accent. “I’ve seen the film...” David said smugly, “...and it’s ‘the ghost of Christmas Future’”. “No, dearie!” shrieked the spirit. “I am the ghost of July the 15th, 2016. Hahahahaaaaa!!!” David looked around the room, wondering if the security team could make it there in time if he dived for the panic button attached to the back of the picture of Margaret Thatcher on his bedside cabinet. The ghost, now hopping from foot to foot gleefully, continued it’s tormenting. “How do you think the Referendum vote went, Davey? Badly. Boris, that UKIP chap and Gove got...

What do you call two silver things that cost millions of pounds and keep crashing into each other? The Mercedes Formula 1 team. You’re right – that isn’t funny. Which is exactly how team boss Toto Wolff saw it when Nico Rosberg ‘forgot’ to turn into the corner on the last lap of the Austrian Grand Prix last week, causing his team-mate to crash into him on the very last lap. A sure-fire 1-2 finish turned into an acrimonious 4-1, as Hamilton took the win from Rosberg, and the chastened culprit limped home with a damaged car. Sure, it’s not exactly the world’s biggest problem, as the drivers remain 1st and 2nd in the championship title hunt, and the team themselves are comfortably leading the constructors’ table. But it does highlight a problem for them that refuses to go away; If these two highly-paid racers can’t play nicely, and the other teams catch up a little, they could well start taking each other out of two races – the one on the track, and the one for the title. And w...

Last Friday I witnessed a truly momentous event take place, right before my eyes. Everyone I know agrees the right decision was made. I was way down south when it happened – that life-changing moment that meant so much to those involved, and alters the course of their future. I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else, though. This was an amazing, special, event. Maybe not once-in-a-lifetime, but a decision like this one isn’t to be taken lightly, and requires years of planning and preparation. This formal process saw the decision we all wanted – unity. A relationship built on trust, mutual benefit, shared experiences and friendship is something that takes a long time to perfect. When the time is right, and you know you want to stay together, you need a large group of people to participate to make it happen. Of course, you need love, too. And only when... What? I’m talking about our friends’ wedding last Friday. Did you think I... no. Surely not. Brexit was certainly unavoida...

Apparently, he’s never going to give you up, let you down, run around or desert you. And his latest album is number 1 almost three decades after his last chart-topper. Rick Astley (steady, ladies) – for it is he, of course – has made it to the top spot for the first time since 1987. The last album of his to do that was also his first, titled, you’ve guessed it, “Never Gonna Give You Up”, featuring a track with the same title that gained him huge success, and a rather odd legacy. Back then, the youthful Richard graduated from Tea Boy to Stock, Aitken and Watermen (the three horsemen of the Popaclypse) sausage-factory success with the irritatingly catchy tune, his surprisingly deep voice, wholesome image and some questionable dancing skills. A number 1 hit in 25 countries, Rick continued to churn out the hits for his pop-paymasters until 1990, ditching their stewardship in favour of a more soulful style. Three years later, he’d packed it in – at the ripe old age of 27 – to focus ...

You know when you haven’t been on the web or checked you email for a few days? No, me neither. Around a decade ago, deciding to go online was not a decision to be taken lightly. Our laptop (significant in itself – we had one web-capable device to share) took a while to boot up, and then there was the ceremonial laying of the modem cable - unravelling it from the reel and stretching it to the other end of the house, where the phone got unplugged so we could bathe in the warm glow of the internet. There was no surfing the web – if you were lucky, after the whistly-tweety dial up noises (and some possible “connection failed – trying again” messages) a trickle of internet reluctantly entered the house like a nervous mouse, ready to vanish at any moment. If someone emailed us a picture, it was time to go and make a cuppa. A 2MB photo would take several minutes to squeeze itself down the narrowband. Still, it was pretty awesome. In 10 minutes or so, we could be looking stuff up and...