SuperCalorieElectricfiedification

Ian Hutson

Alright, so (almost) nobody had a giggle at the previous post, fewer in fact than the post before, and fewer still than the post before that and so on all the way to the horizon. I’ve just renewed the domain name but wonder if perhaps I ought to have kept the money in the mattress. I am obviously doing something wrong, since it appears from the stats that this is not a blog in decline, but a dead blog being carried along by perhaps at most half a dozen pall-bearers (whom I thank wholeheartedly). I shall mayhap re-think things.

Some earlier moorings were just a minor stagger from a main-line railway which would appear to have been made accessible to electribode trains – although most of the ones I clocked going past were in fact diesel. I was staggered at the amount of “furniture” required. It would appear that electric trains don’t in fact just trail a very long 13amp extension lead behind as they whip past at an average velocity of some 60mph (just on the limit of what the English human frame can stand).

The Frenchies and the Japanerish claim to have commercial trains running just a little bit faster than those that England can manage, but both countries have always been prone to exaggeration and I simply don’t believe their claims. Besides, anything much over 60mph and the human liver wobbles itself into a jelly, eyeballs spin and all bladder control is lost.

I can confirm this following extensive tests during my youth in my lime-green Austin Mini Clubman Estate.

Railway lines are a good sign if you’re on the canals in The Modern Age; railways sport interwebnet and mobile signal repeaters and while these are intended for their [terrified, cheeks blown back as though in a wind-tunnel] customers, they can offer the online world to boaters in places where the mobile companies would otherwise not give a

mobile mast.

It helps if you also quite like the sound of trains passing.

I’m not moored there anymore. I am elsewhere.

I am all set for the CorrieNation Weak End, having victualled praise be to a nice £2.50 delivery slot being available. Item substitutions were mild and sustainable, the delivery early, and the drag back to the Cardinal accomplished without need of resuscitation. The Defibrillator element of my Patent Multi-Tasking Support & Waterproof Boxer Shorts didn’t fire once.

Just two boats past so far bearing… bunting.

I opened fire on sight of course, under the terms of the 1651 Are You An Idiot? Act.

We had some delicious thunder yesterday, but sadly no visible lightning.

If the excitement of CorrieNation Day becomes too much to bear I might crawl back under my duvet with a small bottle of Chateau Puissance Dingo’s Armpit Grand Cru ’43.

It worked for Mother, it might work for me.

Chin-chin, dear reader.

Ian H.

21 Comments

    1. Gadzooks ma’am not stopping, just wondering if I am depressing both of my readers with my moan-a-rama. Are you OK? You’ve got my email addy… Hope all is on the mend.

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  2. The bloggersphere is dead. Or, at any rate, my little corner of it is. As much as I hate to admit it, Facebook and Youtube are where the viewers reside. The only reason I keep my blog going nowadays is so that I can have somewhere to store my films without any trolls depositing their wisdom on them.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It certainly seems to be so. I tried making videos for a while – I was awful at it. Blogging these days feels akin to continuing to give evidence from the box long after the court has been cleared.

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  3. I wonder if your new header picture of the four malignant owls may not be putting your fans off. Also, we worry about spies from the Canal and Water Board reading our responses to you and reporting back that our taxes should be increased rather than our Taxis. Not too much of the Gran Cru my friend in case you have to repel boarders. ChinChin.

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    1. Nothing is more certain than deaf and taxis (and nothing’s cheaper, too). I do feel that I am a forgotten dog howling into a gale sometimes.

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      1. OMG don’t mention mobile phone signals. After spending the last two weeks near Venetian marina with practically no signal at all I moved to Barbridge which is dross! Where the hell do these companies get their figures of 99% coverage?
        I too have tried the cable towing Internet of coarse behind my boat but got really pissed off when it got snagged on the corners!!
        DO NOT pack in the blogs as I for one enjoy reading your moaning about life in general which I can very much relate to.

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        1. The old mobile internet does seem to me to be getting a tad more wobbly than hitherto, I do wonder what is afoot. At Venetian I can only find the electric aether at two places – the far end of WIndy Alley, or the space above the lock right opposite the house with the garden. Even then it’s nothing to email home about. 😉

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  4. No tyre drowners in the Abbey? Someone must have noticed that they are neither great nor good.
    Do keep going…..a real general miserygutting post cheers me up considerably, proves that people who count do not get ‘excited’ about waiting for ASDA on a rainy day without a brolly.

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    1. I will, but I mun also find a way to apply a tad more Vim & Vicar to the beast – it seems to be sort of… lifeless, at the mo. A very limp blog.

      I suspect that the most senior of senior tyre drowners is nowhere near senior enough for this occasion (and they are all also quite out of favour, and currently having their legs smacked somewhere in Whitehall for doing a really dismal job and not at all what the government has decided it wanted ten years after it earlier failed to declare what it wanted).

      Managed the entire day with just a bit of desultory bunting floating past and one boat with the choir on full blast (all dead now, as per the Old Grump’s Handbook, and their dogs re-homed safely).

      Yesterday reminded me of the August Landmesser photograph, but somehow reversed, with only one man saluting and Her… His… Majesty’s Constabullyary arresting anyone for even looking as though they may heckle or protest long before they could get near nor by. England is indeed in a pretty pickle, and the political prognosis is ‘Urrrggh’. 😉

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  5. Stick with it, Ian. I look forward to your ramblings–er–amusings.
    I’m having troubles with autocorrect. It changed ‘stick’ to ‘stock’and sticks an apostrophe in every word ending in s.
    Next door have put up some bunting for the Corrynation, but were (stuck in an apostrophe!) out when it was happening. Don’t think they’d gone somewhere else to watch it as they were back before it finished. So what’s that about?
    Our town has no bunting. Very little about here.

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    1. Had one boat pass today with the CorrieNation blaring at top volume from speakers – I flicked them with a wet tea-towel until they saw sense and retuned to the racing results from Kempton. Four boats with bunting, although one of them did give the impression that the bunting had been raised for Victoria and just left in place ever since… I’ll have to get off my gluteus maxibode and inject more energy into the beast. 😉

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  6. Not all your avid readership can necessarily type unaided or indeed be trusted to without supervision, but love reading nevertheless…

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    1. Thank’ee kindly – not many people know that this blog is printed on edible paper and circulated around various mental institutions to take patients’ minds off things. Now that you mention it, it has been a while since I sent some money around the nursing staff.

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  7. Hey!!! Don’t give up the ship! I mean blog. Been following you for years ever since you commented on our friend Lou Keif’s book, “LET NO STRANGER WAIT OUTSIDE YOUR DOOR “. We actually passed you on the canal once and called hello but the Cardinal was up to warp speed and didn’t stop. You did yell something about American peasants, and throw some rocks at us. It was a wonderful day I shall always remember. On a serious note why are bears wearing bunting on the canal, oh wait it’s the coronation.

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    1. They do say that there’s always a welcome in the hillsides. That’s nice to know, because there’s sod all welcome around me. I was born moaning. When the midwife slapped me I Tasered her. 😉 I just need mayhap to find a new angle, something more freshererer – and a lightning storm with conducting rods – to try to reinvigorate the beast. I think. Maybe.

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    1. I’ll give it a go – perhaps make the posts a tad more cheerfullish (hah! fat chance!) and less depressibode. I do appreciate my readers, I just wish that I had to take my socks off in order to count them!

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      1. Nah. Don’t worry about it. Blogs are over, or so I read. I do mine for myself and to stay in touch with my blog buddies. It’s enough and it’s fun. And in your case we have beautiful photographs.

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    1. Hi Keith, let’s just say that were I to provide a cold collation buffet with each post you wouldn’t be in any danger of being trampled in the rush! 😉

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