Where has all the money gone?

I understand this financial crisis less and less as it drags on from day to day with tales of gargantuan Bank losses, and seemingly concurrent astronomical pay and pension payouts to men who are amongst the authors of this total mess.

Back in the old days ( was it only last year?) the defence of the high pay structures amongst the exalted was, "Pay peanuts and you get monkeys" So what was it they got by not paying peanuts? Criminals? Highly paid clever monkeys?

If the UK's interest rate is at its lowest since the year dot, and the cash ISA which last year paid out a 2 figure sum on my modest savings balance, now pays out the same 2 figure sum in pence not pounds, why is my CC company still saying that their interest rate is 19%?.....Answers on a postcard......!

A Blast from the Past...

I make no apology for stealing, lifting, absconding with, or otherwise purloining, the following from my younger brother's long standing Blog. ( http://mikecunningham.wordpress.com/)

It is, perhaps one of the funniest bits of writing that I've ever come across and well up to his usual high standard of raconteur (ism) !

It's long, but well worth the read..... Take it away Mike!....

A friend and I were idly discussing the one happening in our lives which truly stands out and sticks in our memories. For him, it was watching his son being born; for me, as I was far too chicken to even contemplate viewing any of my own children arriving in this world, it was an episode from my sea-going days.

Our ship was a general cargo jobbie, running out of Liverpool, through the Med., to Greece, Turkey, Romania, Bulgaria and then back home to Liverpool. The scene was the Mediterranean on a Saturday morning, after a cold breakfast, which was the starting point for what became known as “The Galley Stove clean-up”. Our galley-boy, a Barnardo’s orphan, had signed on with our ship as his first trip to sea, and he was always getting into scrapes; not, I would think, intentionally; everything just turned to crap in his fingers! If there was something to be spilled over the food, or kicked off balance, he would do it, he was a natural disaster area! Canny enough lad, not an ounce of harm in his make-up, you just had to watch him like a hawk when he was in the vicinity! He had persuaded firstly the chief cook, then the chief steward and lastly the chief engineer, who really should have known better, that the exhaust pipe leading away from the oil-fired galley range was choked with soot, thus reducing the draught available to let the range get hot, and he was the person to arrange a thorough cleaning of the afore-mentioned stack-pipe!

His preparations were thorough, with all food placed in freezers and fridges, lots of old sheeting placed strategically over flat cooking surfaces to avoid contamination, and in general following the plan agreed between the chief cook and chief steward. Now his plan was truly simple, in that there was to be a hose-pipe connected to the compressed air cylinder in the engine room, the other end of the pipe would be shoved up through the range and into the base of the stack, the air would be turned on and the air would evacuate the choked-up soot from the pipe. In theory, nothing could go wrong, but we, the engineer officers, reckoned we knew better and prepared for some gentle humour! The final phase of the genius’ planning was to unroll the rubber pipe, have it taken along and dropped through the engine room access. The junior engineer on watch was waved across, and the galley boy uttered the immortal words, “The chief engineer says you have to connect this to the compressed air connection.” Now the words which our hero was supposed to have told the junior were ‘Connect to the LP compressed air connection!’ To the uninitiated and non-engineers among my readers, an LP or Low Pressure connection ranged from 14 pounds per square inch (atmospheric pressure) to forty p.s.i., which is a little above the pressure held in a car tyre! The junior attached it rather firmly to the HP or High Pressure connection, rated at 600 p.s.i. which is what we used to start the engine with! Nothing of course is turned on, as yet!

Back at the galley entrance, our hero gets the hosepipe set firmly into the base of the galley stack, the chief and second cooks are standing back towards the rear of the space, and the rest of us are grouped further back on deck, ready to watch the fun! Two deck-hands were positioned at the doorway of the deck and the engine-room access, and at the signal, the call went out, “Open the valve” Now a small engineering lesson is due, in that compressed air valves, by the very nature of what they are holding back, are rather tightly closed, and when the air is required, a pipe-spanner is placed on the wheel rim, and the full weight of the operating engineer swings the valve open, thus ensuring a full blow of, in this case, compressed air at six hundred p.s.i. The junior, who was the only person not in the know about what was happening on deck, duly swung the valve wide open, the air comes blasting along, and the whole of the galley disappeared in an impenetrable black cloud. As we fell about in hysterics, this totally black vision, which turned out to be the chief cook, stumbled out of the galley, swearing vengeance on the galley boy. Behind him came the second cook, who had had the foresight to turn away and close his eyes, which were the only white things on him, and last but definitely not least, the galley boy, also like ‘the Black and White gang’ crawled out on his hands and knees. No-one present would ever forget the immortal words of the second cook, a ‘Scouser’ or native son of Liverpool, spoken five minutes after the disaster after most of us had stopped laughing, when he said, “I’ve been many things in my time, but it’s the first time I’ve ever been second man on a bag of soot!”

Pioneering Spirit... To Boldly Go! (Etc!)

Aha! Good to see that my friends in another forum have caught the Blog Bug and that one of them has consolidated we three pioneers into one posting thus reminding me of the web address of the third, much more prolific Blogger, Scatts.

This young , (well, younger and better looking than me!) Englishman has settled in Warsaw, married a stunning Polish girl and between them, produced the fair " Zosia".. Now, ALL children are beautiful, but Zosia! She takes any of our original standards of beauty and leaves us all gasping in her wake. The Spanish have a word which fits Zosia to a"T".... "Preciosa"

I did warn Scatts, that on his recent holiday in Spain he would have a job to extract Zosia in one piece from her devoted admirers, (hotel staff, people in the street, just about everybody, really!) but judging from his latest photos, he has managed quite well!

Being a very new blogger around these parts, I'm a bit wary of publishing the blog sites of my 2 forum friends without their specific permission. So I'll hold fire with linking their blogs in here until I get that permission .

Nature Notes.....

On my regular golf game this morning, a rare sight of two young roebuck, galloping across the fairway from left to right. They burst out of the woods on our left and must have been so intent on the game of "Chasy" or "Tig" that they were almost upon us, but very late in their run, they suddenly jinked away to their left, and within seconds they were gone! They looked like a pair of very naughty boys out for what ever mischief they could find!

The two mature swans who have taken up an almost permanent residence on the nowadays quite large pond, are great favourites with the golfers and are fed by most of us as we pass by. The male came out to meet us this morning and as my tee shot had landed within 20 foot of his domain, he looked as if he was going to dispute possession! I dug into my bag and tossed a crust of bread to one side, diverting his attention long enough for me to complete my second shot to the green. I was satisfied with my shot and the swan was happy with his bread, so honours even, we passed on our separate ways.

Thanks to a lot of effort by the Greens Staff in draining the recent floods, our course is drying out quite well, and the extra "run" which the hardening ground gives to the ball is a very welcome bonus to we "all year round" golfers. The current spell of comparatively mild, dry weather helps a lot, but there are still some low lying parts of the course which are holding on to the surface water and about to claim the attention of the drainage crews.

The Bike Shed. Or.....

Authorised Erections on the Lawn (Department of.)


On my return home I saw that my bike shed had arrived.....

Secure storage space is at a premium here. I'm the non-too proud possessor of the Smallest Garage in the Western World ,which, when my current buggy, (a Citroen C5 ) is in residence, allows for not a lot of room to put anything else beside it. As I'm currently in an "Exercise Mode" as part of my weight loss programme, regular bike rides have become part of my daily routine. Hence the need to be able to store a bicycle securely and not have to move several pieces of gardening equipment each and every time the bike is needed. Enter the new shed, delivered as a self assembly kit, complete with instructions and diagrams on how to assemble it.

I made a start by unpacking and checking over this quite large plastic wrapped parcel and reading the quite well written instructions. They called for 4 slightly raised and level wooden battens to support the shed's floor section clear of the ground. Not having any suitably sized timber about my person. I turned to my modest collection of house bricks which have been stored in the garden,just waiting patiently for me to "Get a round to them". Selecting 16, I laid them out in 4 rows of 4 and then set to with a will to level them off, Two hours and at least a gallon of hot coffee later the bricks were level ( or as near to level as a blind man on a galloping horse would be able to judge!)and my back was killing me! In the local vernacular, I gave my self a "Sharp Lowse" (To knock off work early) and will continue tomorrow....


Work on the shed progressed well until the time came to attach the side walls. One of them was found to be cracked right through the side frame, where the 1" x 1" softwood batten, was cracked just where a huge knot takes up all of the width and depth of the batten, rendering it useless. The break is just where the lower hinge of the door is designed to go, so something tells me to be very aware of further problems in the quality control department .

Way back in the time of Noah when "Aah wuz nobbut a lad" my foreman in the Carpentry shop impressed up on me the need to take a good while to select timber for any job and to discard anything with knots in it at once, especially if the timber was to be load bearing. These days, that advice would seem to have been long forgotten.

A telephone call got an immediate offer of a replacement, so the shed will have to remain un -erected for now.

'Miss Blyth' Arrives for Lunch

An absolutely pristine morning up here in the far North East of England. One of those brilliantly clear, rain washed skies which wipes away all the memories of the cold, cloudy gloom that we've had for such long time. A light Westerly wind picks the temperature up from an early morning 5C., to the heady heights at noon of 13C!!. Already the locals are responding to the bright weather, on the way to church I spotted 2 open topped cars,with the drivers looking a bit self -concious but at least they're making the effort!.....

The sun streamed through the church's new Rose Window, dramatically illuminating the fair hair of an acolyte as he held the Bible for the Priest, prompting the good Father to remark with a smile, "and the sun shines on the righteous!" :-)

Esther...... Please Sir! Can I have some more?

We're looking after "Miss Blyth"again today. This is Esther, who at 92 lives in sheltered accommodation in town, and has been a long term visitor to us for Sunday lunch. A broken hip last year has slowed her up a lot but has certainly not affected her very healthy appetite. Marjorie and I serve her with a traditional English Sunday Lunch, a roast plus 3-4 fresh vegetables, gravy and the essential ingredient, a Yorkshire pudding. This is followed by an apple tart or if we are really in luck one of Marjorie's "Specials" a fruit crumble "to die for!" We're presented with two completely cleared plates and a bright smile of thanks at the end of the meal. She then returns to her favourite armchair to read the Sunday papers and just maybe "rest her eyes,"( momentarily, of course!)

The Cunningham Brothers

We Three. Self--Mike--Pete.











Peter caught in an interrogative glance at Mike














A benevolent Mike

Introducing Marjorie.......

My wife of almost 28 years ( on 21st March), Marjorie has put up with my tiny foibles in her own inimitable way. (Two words of the wrong sort from me, and it's a swipe with a wet dish cloth !)

Calm and the epitome of dignity, she has kept me solvent and sane since that evening in 1975 when we met........


Ah yes ! I remember it well!



Marjorie






Cue for a song?

He:	She:
We met at nine.	We met at eight.
I was on time.	No, you were late.
Ah yes! I remember it well.
We dined with friends.	We dined alone.
A tenor sang.	A baritone.
Ah yes! I remember it well.
That dazzling April moon!	There was none that night,
	And the month was June.
That's right! That's right!
	It warms my heart to know that
	you remember still the way you do.
Ah yes! I remember it well.
How often I've thought of that Friday,	Monday
night,
when we had our last rendez-vous.
And somehow I've foolishly wondered
if you might by some chance be
thinking of it too?
That carriage ride.	You walked me home.
You lost a glove.	I lost a comb.
Ah yes! I remember it well.
That brilliant sky.	We had some rain.
Those Russian songs.	From sunny Spain.
Ah yes! I remember it well.
You wore a gown of gold.	I was all in blue.
Am I getting old?	Oh no! Not you!
	How strong you were,
	how young and gay;
	A prince of love in every way.
Ah yes! I remember it well

(Acknowledgements to ....... Alan Jay Lerner / Frederick Loewe / Gigi 1958)

Introducing my Family

Only daughter ( by a previous marriage) is Alexandra, and she and her daughter Elaine live in Southern Spain with Husband Roberto.





Here a few pictures taken in December '07 at Alex's Umpty umph birthday! She doesn't look a day over 21!) ;-)


Alex and Roberto run "Los Molinos" Swimming Pool Bar at La Manga Club during the summer months and have themselves a well deserved break during the winter season.

Elaine is nearly 13 and attends the "English School" within La Manga's extensive grounds.


She is very artistic and gained first prize in a province wide art competition with this illustrated short story.

Her Junior School published the results in her "Year Book", and I show it below.........

It translates into English as :-

"The Secret of the Water lilies"

Lunch with Brenda and Bert

One of life's little rewards came our way today.

A while ago I heard of a "Damsel in Distress" living not too far away from me.

The older sister of an Internet forum friend, was, according to her "little brother" Bert, having problems shifting her old washing machine. He lived way "darn sarf", and when I read Bert's posting, which described the way modern life was treating his sister, I made a few indiscreet enquiries and found that "Big Sister" lived just a few miles away from me, here in "Sunny Blyth"

After establishing what the problem was.... The Big, Bad, household goods company were willing to deliver a new washing machine to the lady, but because the wicked "Elf 'n' Safety" Ogre had laid a curse upon the delivery men if they so much as looked at the old machine, never mind disconnect and shift it, a state of impasse existed and Brenda looked like having to pay for the wicked Ogre to lift his curse!

So, girding my loins, ( I've often wondered, does a man gird left over right and a lady right over left? ) I sought the necessary permissions and after a couple of telephone calls which established my "Bona Fides" ( Latin for 'Fido's Bone', innit?) and a few days later, I met Brenda and surveyed the scene of the impasse.

The old machine was 'plumbed in' below the kitchen bench, hard up against the right hand wall on one side and the cooker on the other. Tool selection came next and I reached for my trusty seven iron, ( no, I was not about to emulate Tiger or Sevvy, merely that past experience with my washer, had taught me that an old club's angled face and long handle was just the job for "teasing" the heavy machine out from it's niche in the kitchen's built in 'White Goods' line up)

A couple of tentative wiggles secured the club's head below the machine's leading edge and then a more positive heave succeeded in lifting the machine and levering it out sufficiently for me to grip the top and ease the machine fully out. The water pipe connections were next in line and they came off and the loose ends plunged into a bucket to collect any dribbles. A couple more man sized heaves allowed me to reach the electrical connection, which was (thankfully) a simple removal of a plug from its socket....

Subsequent removal was fairly straightforward, "walking" the machine ( tip the machine back towards oneself so it rests on one lower edge, then tip further up until it rests on one corner. Then swing the machine around and forward and you are "Walking" a washing machine!).

Job done, I had a nice cuppa and a chat with Brenda and I took my leave, reporting success to Bert through the forums. A few days later came an invite for lunch at a time which would co-incide with Bert's next visit to the Frozen North.

Today was picked as suiting all parties and my wife and I had the pleasure of meeting Bert for the first time A very convivial afternoon followed an excellent lunch and the four of us chattered away as if we'd known each other for years.

The DPA and its effects .

Thanks to friends in another forum, and also through a telephone chat with the Head Archivist at the Discovery Museum, my question posed in posting number two has been answered.

Church and Registry Office records, ( Hatches Matches, and Despatches) are already in the public domain and are free to be read by anyone. School Records, Attendance, Medical,and Punishment Books (!!), etc., are obviously more sensitive and could in some cases contain information which could be used against a person. Problem solved.

PC in a museum.

A strange case of PC reared it's baffling head yesterday.

My wife and I visited the Discovery Museum at Blandford Street, Newcastle on Tyne. There she headed straight through the crowds of school kids to the Archives Section and I followed dutifully behind, pausing only to admire the sleek lines of the "Turbinia" once the fastest vessel in the world, which is given pride of place at the entrance.

With 'SWMBO' settled at a microfiche viewer scrolling industriously away through her ancestors' records, I took a browse through the map and street indices of the 40's and 50's. Locating my five homes across Tyneside was easy , and only confirmed what I already knew, that all but the first had been demolished long ago.

Then a thought struck. Why not see if the records of my old Secondary school were held amongst the vast filing systems? A pleasant young lady assistant took my request and promised to bring the records to me. She later appeared with a large book opened at a page and there was my name duly registered as joining the School on the 4th Sept, 1950 and leaving on the 23rd July 1954 . At the end of the line was the curt comment "Completed Course"

Pleased to have found this solitary record of my education, I made to look through the rest of the book, but was firmly refused permission by this still smiling young lady. Her reason? The Data Protection Act of 1972 forbids anyone from perusing those records. Anyone, that is, apart from a policeman bearing a search warrant or a person like myself who could only look at their own name! I copied the sparse information down and handed the bulky volume back to her feeling a bit frustrated. This feeling was not alleviated when I realised that my wife was still scrolling through several hundred copies of Birth and Baptismal certificates and there was no one denying her in her searches. All are allowed free and unfettered access to literally thousands of names and full addresses, names of parents, god-parents, occupations and status. Yet the microscopically brief details of my classmates and I are held for posterity under close guard!

..In The Begining

Welcome to my view on the world.

Starting today, I've decided that I'll post a little of theway I see things.

You may agree with me or you may disagree. Which ever way my postings and views take you please answer and let me know just how much or how little my views are received .

Thank you.