Some Photos

Number Twenty

Five for One, Five oh One (541 – 501) Number Twenty

Week Ending 18May08

Five for One – You read, at most, five, then you send me one reply.Five oh One – I hope to have 501 replies by the end of the year.

All replies to 5014mack@gmail.com or my facebook profile.

So I figure we should start off this 541 with a really important question, one that has been taxing my brain, and I’m sure, if you’re honest, it’s been taxing yours.  How does everyone eat their twix’s?  No, I haven’t just got a sponsorship from Mars, but you know when you are out in public amongst the hoi polloi and someone breaks out one of those chocolaty treats and starts to open it you just have to stare don’t you? How are they going to do it?  Gnaw off the caramel part leaving the biscuit? Do a bit of stereo twixing by eating both at the same time? Pull each finger fully out of the packet, eat them and then necessarily lick off the chocolate from their fingers?

I do have a very particular way of eating a twix and on our way to see the great Oakwood family, I chatted with Lindsay about how she was about to eat hers.  I have to tear off a corner so I am allowed access to just one finger, BUT it has to be a particular corner (if you are interested, and I’m sure you are – it’s the one that if you hold the back of the packet toward you with the folded seam pointing to the left, it’s the top right coner, any other corner spoils the whole experience).  I then take bite size chunks and set to work with a little factory line in my mouth.  First things first, separate the caramel from the biscuit and stash the former in one’s cheek like a gerbil.  Next, suck the biscuit until it disintegrates, you are now left with a very soft version of a reverse choclate éclair (not the cream cake version but the confectionary made by Cadbury’s).  Repeat until the twix is gone.

I saw a loada swifts swooping around Lower Basildon on my way home from work the other day.  Do they remind anyone else of X-wings flying around the trenches of the Death Star?  I remember one summer coming back from work (Wychwood Brewery) to our house in The Crofts one afternoon and going up to have a power nap before Lindsay returned from work.  I was kept awake by an inordinate amount of screeching outside, after it got too much I looked out of the window fuming.  When I saw that the screech came from such an agile and beautiful bird my anger disappeared instantly.  I love ‘em!

This Thursday I had real trouble staying awake and reading “The Tale of Squirrel Nutkin”  by Beatrix Potter to Rosemary at bedtime.  No problem, she had trouble staying awake too, we were conked out before you could devour a twix (stereo-style).

I was loading the grist hopper the other day and something reminded me of something I will refer to as The Glenny Gunpowder incident.

Back when Wychwood Brewery was the Glenny Brewery and sited on The Two Rivers estate, a fifteen year old me was washing casks when I felt a spot of rain.  Thing was, the cask washer was inside.  Confused I carried on and felt another splash of water.  This time I turned to see Paddy Glenny ducking back behind the hot liquor tank with hose in hand.  The third time it happened I managed to return fire.

I didn’t feel I had exacted enough revenge for my soaking so when Paddy popped out for a while I devised a plan.  Paddy had an elephant gun that had humungous rounds (bullets).  The rounds were very expensive so he made his own to economise.  This meant there was gunpowder in the brewery.  I also need to explain quickly the layout of the brewery, it was an industrial unit that had concrete stairs up to a concrete platform.  The office was a shed on legs (you think I am joking, I assure you I am not), where it met the concrete platform there was a slight gap.  If you stood on the ground floor below the office you could look up and see people walking in the office.

I hit upon the idea of making a little pile of gunpowder in front of the office door, covering it with a few magazines (as though someone had walked out of the office and knocked them off the desk) and making a fuse out of gaffer/duct tape with gunpowder stick on it, this then led downstairs through the gap, where I would be able to stand.

Paddy came back, I told him someone had come in saying they were owed money so I left them in the office, he shot upstairs, I lit the fuse there was a flash and an loud “OOH!”.  I laughed my socks off until I didn’t hear anything, I ran upstairs picturing a headless Paddy with a perfectly cauterised neck.  He was facedown on the floor hands covering his face, my stomach dropped as I walked over.  “Paddy, PADDY!” I said as I bent down to see what I could do.  It was then he withdrew his hands revealing a perfectly un-black face with a massive smile on it.  He started laughing and I think I did out of shear relief.  The Padawan rarely gets the last laugh.

Oh I would like to point out that although Nick is my Padawan with respect to Brewing, in many, many other instances I am his padawan.

I was saying something to Rosemary the other day and she repeated “faff” (five).  I then taught her all the numbers up to five and she repeated every word with something either dead-on or a close approximation of.  Now I do it and she just says the number that is next in the sequence to the one I am saying.

“One”

“dooo”

“three”

“Fuh”

“FIVE!”, “Faff!”

So we travelled to Sir Benfro (Pembrokeshire) in deepest darkest West Wales (take the M40/A40 West from London and just before you hit the water you reach our friends the Oakwoods.  They have 5 kids and just to show you how such a feat can addle your brain I will include some replies I and a few others had to last week’s 541:

“Also, regarding the seemingly limitless tail Vs wings debate, it has occured to me, as a bloke, that monkey tails are pre-hensile. Now I KNOW I am not alone (but most blokes have a degree of dignity that I sold years ago) BUT having tried my left hand (it’s supposed to feel like someone else is doing it to you, which became so comfortable it is now the grip of choice) I heard that you can sit on a hand and make it numb and then, again, it feels like someone else is doing it to you….. IMAGINE having a tail you could masturbate with!
Fuck wings… mine’s a frigging monkey tail-fist…”

followed by:

“Yes I know I clicked ‘reply to all’. I am blatantly attention seeking.”

And:

“and yes, as it happens I do have someone who could do it for me anyway… but that is completely missing the fucking point.”

Concluding with:

“Does Marsha still get this?”

Actually I’m lying he’s always been like that.

On the way to The Oakwoods’ I listened to the lyrics of a Doughboys song (The Doughboys were a great Canadian band in the 1990’s that I saw a coupla times and always thought that one of the guitarists looked a hell of a lot like my friend Tim Dywelska (also Canadian, ironically enough)) called “Tupperware Party”

“grab your wings child, grab them while you can”

No mention of a tail there!  Two other Canadians piped in this week with the same sentiment, Paula Bergen (a bona fide Canadian) :

“Just to let you know as well…Konrad and I would both love “wings”. No tails for us!”

The weekend itself was magical, as it always is when we visit them.

I was going to try and distil a bit of the magic for you by writing the 541 from Dave’s office but I couldn’t get on the computer due to Dave constantly editing his own photos.  Mind you, with the quantity and sheer quality of his pics it would be hard for anyone not to want to look at them all the time.  If you are a friend of his look at his albums (and please comment on some of them) if not, fear not he’ll be starting a photoblog soon.

Rosemary was happy to have a girl slightly older than her to pal around with or give the evils to when said girl spent too much time hugging me.

She loved the fact that there was a girl younger than her so she wasn’t the baby.

She was delighted to see the cockerels and chickens running around the huge garden. (dammit! I forgot to ask the older kids, who can speak Welsh what a native cockerel would say.)

The guinea pig enclosure had Rose stunned for ages, she just looked on completely static, with wonder in her eyes, and she would break into a smile whenever they made a noise.

On the Saturday, we walked down the bridal path to the church and had a nosey around the graveyard, on the way down we saw a field with a foal and her mother.  The foal was running in circles looking like a mad Dali rendition of a horse but when she spotted all of us, she came to investigate.

On Sunday we went to a beautiful beach and set our blanket on a nice bit of wet sand.  Rosemary loved the waves on the sea and kept saying “whoosh”.

I had fun running along the rock-pool part of the beach, jumping gaps and dreaming I was good at Parqour/Free Running (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WEeqHj3Nj2c) something that I never will be but it’s good to dream once in a while eh?

It was so good to see the Oakwoods and it was a very much needed “break from the old routine”.

Props

Glenn Paterson is on a catch-up mission.

Dave Young, yeah we are good friends with Matt and the Mordue Brewery guys and often have beer swaps with them.  Their seasonal brews this year are named after hairstyles, we had some “comb over” last time we did a beer swap with them.  I’m looking forward to the “mullet”

My Dad who only got a brief summary of this very 541 texted back from France (where the folks are with their campervan at the moment):

“Wasn’t goin 2 answer but this came up as message no.23! And I spent 40p replyin!”

If you know my dad at all you’ll know that was above and beyond the call of duty, so major props there.

23 eh? Cosmic!

285 to go.

Have a Hap-ee week y’all,

The Daddy Mack

Numero Diecinueve

Five for One, Five oh One (541 – 501) Numero Diecinueve

Week Ending 11May08

Five for One – You read, at most, five, then you send me one reply.

Five oh One – I hope to have 501 replies by the end of the year.

All replies to 5014mack@gmail.com or my facebook profile.

Fueled by Fair To Midland’s “Fables From A Mayfly: What I Tell You Three Times Is True” (a little hair-metal in places and there are some almost comical deep-voiced growly machismo at times).

I found out this week that there is no way that you can copywrite a book’s title. If I ever write a book I’m calling mine “The Bible”.

So Tuesday, Andy and I hosted a tutored tasting at the Turf Tavern in Oxford (www.theturftavern.co.uk/images/photo.php?file=moorhouse/moor01-full.jpg&title=The+front+bar) for the, now I forget which, either The C.S. Lewis Appreciation Society or the Lewis Caroll Appreciation Society. It went down pretty well, not the rowdiest of folk but attentive in their listening. There was one hiccup during the event. We were in the front garden and a guy in his forties ambled over.

He had, it appeared, difficulty focussing, but sat down and listened for a while. Out of the blue he said “What about Green King then?” to which Andy (who was talking at the time) said “Yeah their beer’s alright”. He grumbled for a bit said a few random things, looked into his wine glass like there was the solution to the world’s problems inside then seemed happy for a bit. I thought the situation was no longer a problem until he piped up again with “What about Morland?”, this time it was at a point where I was talking.

I now understand how off-putting hecklers can be to comedians on stage. It was like with his words he took out a board rubber and rubbed out all the spiel I was about to spew forth. Andy took over from me, noticing I was struggling. I realised then it was down to me to do something.

Andy is a big Yorkshireman and is not one for taking shit. I thought it may not be the best idea for him to go over and lamp the guy in front of these scholarly types. I walked over and spoke to the wine drinker with a grudge against Green King (a BIG brewery/pub owner who have a reputation as a big fish swallowing up small fry).

“What’s up mate?”

He was in an advanced state of inebriation but managed to get out “Green King, I hate them….Morlands, I hate it….bastards”

I touched his shoulder, moved in closer and said “Mate, I am totally with you but we have absolutely nothing to do with Green King. We are the White Horse Brewery, we’re a tiny outfit and we are trying to pimp ourselves here to these people. They’ve paid to listen to us talk, you haven’t so can you keep it down or I’ll have to ask you to leave”

“The bastards they took over Morlands, then shut it down”

“I know I had a mate that worked there and he was made redundant. He went through tough times for ages after that, so I agree with you, but we have nothing to do with Green King, will you agree to keep it down?”

He kinda nodded, I patted him on the back and said “thanks mate” and went back to the talk. He didn’t say anything more and eventually stumbled off. We carried on with our talk. I’d like to think what I’d said had shut him up but in all honesty I think he’d finished his drink and had no more moola for more.

On Saturday we got up early and got out of the house by 11:30! Believe me, with a toddler this is some feat. We cycled over to a park in Caversham to a big kids event. By which I mean a large event for kids rather than a loada middle-aged men playing pac-man, scalextric, driving remote control cars or dressing up as a storm-trooper.

There were kids fairground rides, displays by various organisations and the token hippy-stall (this one with pedal powered organs, blow-up snakes and, Rosemary’s favourite, one that powered a bubble machine. She was running around with a gleam in her little eyes saying “Bubool bubool bubool”).

I realised I was my father’s son when I said no to Lindsay paying for Rosemary to go into this really sparsely populated soft play area. In my defence Rosemary didn’t look that interested. Okay, so it was only 50p for five minutes but again, it was shite! There was no way that Rosemary would spend more than 30 seconds in there before her superior intellect would kick in and she’d just toddle off.

Rose and I did however hit the teacups. They reminded me of the waltzers I was so fond of as a kid only without the undulations. When We were waiting to go on I did think “she is very young, will she enjoy this?” and “What if she starts crying right from the beginning and this is the most traumatic experience of her life?”. As it happened she loved it and we were both shouting “whe-hey!” all the way around.

I was impressed with a tight-rope act called something stupid like “Boz the Bashful”. While Rosemary and Lindsay went elsewhere I was transfixed, waiting for his piece de résistance (I had time to look it up this week, and I do realise that it should have the little dash above the e in piece but, oh wait, copy and paste the one in resistance) for his piéce de résistance (oh, wait that’s pointing the wrong way. This French language aint easy is it? Copy and paste from the source) his Pièce de résistance (perfect, I think I’ve got away with that, no-one would ever know).

There I was waiting for his main course, the unicycle across the tightrope when I realised, he was up quite high and I could probably hang with my two beauties and still see him do it. So that’s what I did.

It might’ve been more impressive close up but it was pretty good from afar. Maybe I’ve been spoiled by being into BMX for so long but I noticed with the clowns/tightrope acts that there was a lotta time filling going on between each trick (as a opposed to, as Sum41 would say the “All Killer No Filler” that you would find in a flatland BMX run (www.youtube.com/watch?v=A2LTVhqHAdo) or in my case some killer, lotta f-ups.)

Well my ears feel slightly violated so I’m now on to an old fave who has a new cd out (“Unfamiliar Faces”) Mr Matt Costa, his “Songs We Sing” cd was my album of the year for 2006. I loved the cd so much I bought it for two friends and one of them (current Padawan) hates it.

Saturday night I met up with the Padawan Nick and Mark Thomas for a Meat Festival at Gary Blakes’ ultra DINKY pad (tricked out to the max!). We sat around drinking beer, reminiscing, looking at old photos, tried for an hour to get his Playstation3 to work (nope!). I was looking forward to Grand Theft Auto IV (apparently you punch whores in it or something, and there’s me thinking it was just an innocent game about stealing cars). So instead we watched V for Vendetta on a widescreen TV with full surround sound.

I say watched, I strobed my way through it until I conked out fully on the sofa.

Bacon sarnies for Brekkie? You betcha, Good on yer Gary.

There seems to be a swing towards tails this week:

Terri Anderson:

“Earlier this week, I was going through the park after work, lovely
night, EVERYone was out and about, and I realized one thing a tail
could be good for– hackeysack! (imagining a dinosaur type tail of
course, not a bunny type tail)”

David Oakwood:

“In terms of wings vs tail, I am tempted to say tail becaue I know it is less popular than wings. I DO like the idea of being able to wag my tail excitedly when I am meeting a friend, but this can not compare to being able to fucking fly to meet a friend in the first place…”

Oh wait, he swung back at the last minute, unlike

Colin Stronge:

“You know, I originally was totally a wing man but all the anti tail sentiment has stirred my inner punk into a tail argument. Wings will become restrictive in the jungle environs, or even a heavy planted forest just the type of area where the grip/balance provided by the tail would be a great boon to a tree enthusiast/sightseer looking for better views. Imagine the need to quickly evade oncoming bears or big cats. This also puts me in mind of having to manoeuvre quickly through the windows in the Liverpool Brewing Company, shuffling aroung the backs of the fermenters and copper, a tail would have provided much needed balance aid and grip allowing easier copper polishing!”

Props

Konrad – thanks for the kind words, hope your first voyage out in your gas guzzling motorboat is tree trunk free (Who of us knew you needed sonar to protect your motor from such things?) Oh yeah, and I wish I could take credit for the “Fucking Evil Cyber Monkeys” but that was actually

David Oakwood who wrote a humungous reply and due to his fear of the FECM split it into 7, yes you read that right SEVEN replies! What a guy!

Andrew Bruce sent this reply just as I sent out the 541 number 18:

“reply from the future.

here’s a pre-emptive strike e-mail for the upcoming 541-501 18…

-yes “that thing” has happened before, although not to me, to this guy’s cousin on my soccer team…

-who knew you had a chav side to you?

-Obama has rebounded from his Pennsylvania gaff and is doing nicely, thanks for asking

and finally

-that Youtube link was funny/weird/painful looking/an 80’s flashback/didn’t work.

If at least one of those apply I’ll have done well. I’m typing this tongue firmly in cheek ‘reply’ as I’ll be in the wilds of the American desert for the next two and a half weeks and most likely will not have the required combination of a computer and/or access to the internet for a while so may not be responding to your posts, but feel I need to keep your ‘reply’ total respectable.”

And that he does.

Dominique Delaney asked:

“Do you do any of the other CAMRA events? I’ve been to a couple in London.Lots of old men resembling Noddy Holder if I’m not mistaken”

You are certainly not mistaken Dominique

http://cache.viewimages.com/xc/71032985.jpg?v=1&c=ViewImages&k=2&d=17A4AD9FDB9CF19390335F8FA9CA92A64ADB93F15CCA2723474FC6B9CADF7309

Neil Walker – Wow, you avoid it for so long then reply with an absolute humdinger. I had to read half of that tome out to Lindsay as I was loving it so much. A+ for your creative writing essay!

I copy and paste all replies in to a word document (otherwise how will I be able to prove I got 501 replies when someone asks?) and I’ve noticed on some replies (ones from gmail accounts) that the name at the end turns out to be grey when copied. I can only guess that these folk have got a signature programmed in to their email. I wanna ask this does it save you that much time?

Mack

That took a fraction of a second

The Mack Daddy

That took three fractions of a second.

What are you doing with all those fractions of seconds?

Naming and Shaming

Big Al (AKA Alex Kean) Not one reply? Call yourself a brewer? An integral part of the industry is gossip, did Jeremy not teach you anything?

Dave Russel is busy painting his nuts.

Dave Young is busy painting the Tyne Bridge tartan – Radgie Gadgie!

Gonzo is German but not very efficient at replying.

Amy Molnar – forwards do not constitute a reply.

Paul Radburn claims to have seen the Yeti.

Matt Appleton reads manga books from left to right and then wonders why the story seems to be going backwards.

Paul Dywelska wears his backpack on his front!

Olivia Goodgame claims to have seen the Yowie (a verbal reply certainly does not count!)

Griffin Maggs wishes he was Oceansize (and we aint talking Janes Addiction here!)

Marie Kusek recieves a 4-month get out of Naming and Shaming free card – Respect is due!

Sarah Oakwood has a holiday home, only it’s made out of cow dung.

Paddy Glenny rides a 50cc motor-scooter, side-saddle.

Mark Downey drinks cat-crap coffee (unroasted).

Phil Bate tried the haka once and strained his groin.

Sam Shrimpton – congrats mate! Welcome to fatherhood, wont be expecting a reply from you in the next six or so months. It gets easier; never forget that, it gets easier.

Adrian Randall is at a sci-fi convention dressed as Zena.

Richard Warner is too busy pimping his facebook profile to reply.

Jamie Holloway is into CB radio – “Breaker 19 do you copy Jamie?”

Seb Morris drives a ford ka.

293 to go!

Have a Hap-ee week y’all

The Mack Daddy

Number Eighteen

Five for One, Five oh One (541 – 501) Number Eighteen

Week Ending 5May08 (yeah, I know, but that includes the bank-holiday Monday then Dunnit?)

Five for One – You read, at most, five, then you send me one reply.

Five oh One – I hope to have 501 replies by the end of the year.

All replies to 5014mack@gmail.com or my facebook profile.

You know how some weeks are totally off, and others are totally on? This week has been well and truly ON!

At the start of it Rosemary had a fever that would come and go, she’d be listless one day and seemingly fine for half a day the next. Dr Oji prescribed some antibiotics and Bob’s yer uncle (actually mine’s John times two (or is that John squared?)) she’s back to herself, only more chatty.

My favourite word Rosemary is saying now is “happy” or to be more accurate “hap-eee”.

I found out the 541 was now legal on facebook which couldn’t have made me happier. I coulda asked one and all for their email address but in the back of my mind I had the nagging thought that there would be a few “actually, no thanks, I cannot plough through that drivel you spout on a weekly basis” or “you want my email address to send the 541 to? Actually I was more than stoked when I thought you’d been booted off facebook”. I was not in the right head-space for rejection at the time. Hey that second from last line sounded like I was from California didn’t it? (apart from the booted bit).

Ma and Pa were due over on Thursday as I originally thought I’d be attending the trade session of the CAMRA Reading Beer Festival. That was until I found out I’d have to pay for the beer I’d be drinking. ME pay for beer, with my reputation! I own a brewery I’ll have you know! (Well, part-own).

The folks still came over, which was way nice. Even though we saw them on Sunday, that was a big family occasion and there wouldn’t be much grandparent/granddaughter time. It was also a bonus as dad was able to bring down his rods for the drain.

I would like to point out that as a father/son duo we don’t spend our spare time rodding drains for fun. Faecal matter is not something I really want to see, okay with Rosemary I have to see a lot more than I desire of late but I never relish the discovery of solids in her nappy (North American translation – Diaper). No, we have recently discovered that there may be a blockage somewhere in our drains. I realised this when flushing our outside toilet and the water rose to the rim before slowly dropping back.

Just in case some of you think that we still live in the 1930s or that everyone in Britain has an outhouse. It isn’t normal to have an outside loo, but it is fantastic. What? Why? Well, you can do a bit of gardening and not have to take your boots off when you are desperate for a tinkle. Pinching a loaf there does not render the upstairs of the house a No-Inhale zone either.

Dad was an absolute star at the poop-poking and we were going at it great-guns until there was a snap and one of the sections of the rods tore away from the metal end piece that attaches to the next section. Potential disaster! We had the plunger attachment on the end, if we couldn’t get this out then our drain would be fully blocked and the garden may have to be dug up to get down to the drainpipe. Should we say EXPENSIVE? I’ll spare you any more gory details but Dad went above and beyond the call of duty and I’ll never forget the image of him headfirst down a manhole. Fah-king Star! he got the rods out.

According to The Society of Homeopaths,

“Homeopathic remedies are a unique, potentised energy medicine, drawn from the plant, mineral and animal worlds. They are diluted to such a degree that not one molecule of the original substance can be detected”

“After each dilution the mixture is vigorously agitated in a machine that delivers a calibrated amount of shaking. This is called succussion. It is thought that this process imprints the healing energy of the medicinal substance throughout the body of water (the diluent) as if a message is passed on. The message contains the healing energy. Even in ultra-molecular dilutions, information specific to the original dissolved substance remains and can be detected.”

Summing that up you could say that a medicine is diluted again and again until it shouldn’t effectively be there, but the water somehow holds a memory of the medicine. Sorting out the drains got me thinking about all the water used in sewage treatment plants. IS that the cause of all the ills in society today?

Wings seem to winning so far. Any takers for a tail?

Terri Anderson really thought about it, can you?

“I would totally choose wings over a tail.  After all, if you are
flying, then you have this great new appendage that helps you get
around, but, if you have a tail, it would just be an add-on appendage
with no real benefit that I can think of.  What’s the point of a tail
anyway? Some critters use it for balance– but humans can balance fine
now as it is with just the two legs.  It can be used for communication
(ie, dogs’ use of tails)– but humans can communicate fine without
tails.  Cheetahs use their tails like a rudder, that’s how they can
run so fast and switch direction so quickly (I saw a thing about it on
some nature show), but we can’t run very fast so the tail would be no
use to us in that way.  MAYBE if you were on a bike or something you
could use your tail as a rudder and counterbalance, that might be kind
of helpful.  I guess it might be helpful to use a tail like a monkey
tail to curl around a tree branch and hang or something, but really,
you can climb trees well enough with arms and legs.  So I think wings
would be so much cooler all around, and you could actually do all
sorts of things with wings that are totally impossible without, while
the tail, I think, would just get in the way most of the time.”

I’ve been “reading” Barack Obama’s “Dreams of my Father” this week (or should I say he read his book to me). I don’t know why I’m so interested in the USA presidential race this time around. It might have something to do with the fact that I read a comic book all about a senator becoming the first Asian-American President or it could be that I “read” his book “The Audacity of Hope” and thought ‘this guy has something new to bring to the world, he HAS to be the next president.’ A combo of the two? Maybe. Or is it that I have completely lost interest in British politics?

Rosemary loves rockets. Or she likes the sound her mother and I make when describing what a rocket does. With ridiculous dreams of her walking on the moon I showed her some footage of the Apollo mission rockets taking off. In retrospect showing her some nearly 40 year old technology is not, by definition, forward thinking but hey, I’d deleted the last NASA shuttle launch video-podcasts okay?

“Uppadoo” is a word that Rosemary is now saying. What word in English is she representing there? Not one of them. Lindsay only realise it was something she would say whenever she picked up that little “hap-eee” bundle of fun. Uppadoo is different from “Upp-see” which means going up the stairs.

I come home nowadays and Rosemary is so happy to see me, I am still faffing about getting my shit together in the car, when the front door opens and the little smiling beauty is there waiting for me. I come in she almost jumps up and down with excitement, I crouch down and say “gis a hug” and she looks and me, holds her hands out, turns to Lindsay and says “mum mum mum” – you can’t win them all.

I thought it about time I broadened my language horizon. I listen to some language tips by Howard Mohr in his linguaphone-esque “How to Speak Minnesotan”. Was it good? You Bet!

I’ve only just found out that Howard Mohr used to write for “A Prairie Home Companion” (a radio show made into a film of the same name – good film BTW) also the home of Garrison Keiller and his “Tales from Lake Wobegon” segment, which I eat up as a podcast.

Big Andy, Padawan Nick, Dani and I went to the Turf Tavern Beer festival (All 40 beers supplied by us, which was an undertaking to behold, Nick nipping out to breweries here, there, and everywhere). Many beers consumed, many more by Andy who had to stop and profess “it’s like a big cake” while admiring the Bodleian Library on our way home.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/4/4f/Bodleian_Library.jpg/442px-Bodleian_Library.jpg

I worked behind “the Bar” at the Turf Tavern Beer fest on Saturday for “shoe” money (sadly not shoes for me, but hap-eee-ly shoes for Rosemary, those feet of hers just keep on growing!). I’m still confused by a comment by an old curmudgeon with flip-up sunglasses clipped to his regular glasses, who came over and said “I’ve been a member of CAMRA [CAMpaign for Real Ale] for 30 years. Not good, not good”

“Yeah, well I’ve been in the brewing industry for 22 years and we hate self-righteous CAMRA cunts like you! Get out, you’re barred!” Is what I wish I’d said but I just countered with a rather weak “what’s not good?” (I genuinely wanted to know) to which he just walked away with a pompous air that still makes me grind my teeth when I think about it.

Sunday was a big family get together at my folk’s place. In attendance where My Sis Louise, her son and daughter, Auntie Jen, Cousin Lucy, her husband Dave and their beautiful daughter who is a year old now. And the legendary Howie and Ciaran.

It was great to see everyone and nice to see Rose and her younger cousin realise they both enjoy bubbles (which reminds me, if Rosemary is a bit snotty (in the literal sense) instead of cultivating two candlesticks below her nose, she points to her nose and says “bubbool” [bubble] which you then wipe for her).

The Piece of Resistance (I can’t do French too well and can’t be arsed to look it up now) though, was something I’d been prepping Rosemary for all morning:

“What does Granddad drink Rosemary?”

“Bee-ya”

My dad was well hap-eee about this.

Props:

Mark Locke sent some great snaps of his daughter eating solids for the first time said the following:

“Sorry for lack of replies, just chaos here, so many things to juggle, vid stuff (three on go!), Dad book stuff, film script stuff, tv script stuff, wedding stuff and of course family stuff. Oh and looks like I’m editing new We The People road trip, long story but have ended up here through initially enquiring about what manufacturer they use for their hoodies! Gonna go along and shoot a bit too.”

All that while still running www.ourweddingthemovie.com/ too! Geez, busy.

He also said (and this may seem like I’m on an ego trip here, but bear with me)

“keep doing yer Hawaii Five Oh – it takes real discipline to do something like that week in week out, so beanies off.”

In a way though he is a part inspiration in doing this. I remember asking him “How the hell do you write a script for a film?” and he said (and I’m paraphrasing here as I can’t write a Tamworth accent) “I get up at 9am, open up the laptop and start writing, sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s not, but every day I write”. I heard a quote once that could be applied to this “unless you are sitting down and actually writing you are not a writer, you are just someone who is thinking about being a writer”. Now please don’t think that I categorise myself as a writer (and to be honest that quote I’ve adapted into being applicable to writing, it was actually about salespersons). Where was I going with this? Dunno.

Which proves my point; writers actually go places in their writing. I just ramble on (is that so bad? Not according to Led Zeppelin [wink face to Lindsay])

I don’t often use emoticons, I try [write-it-in-a-square-bracket-it’s-a-con]s. It lends itself to less confusion (“he’s poking his tongue out at me, does that mean a raspberry or a tongue-in-cheek gone wrong?” nope, [that’s an ice-cream I’d like to lick] see, no confusion)

It seems that Mark Stallwood likes his routines too (I think he’s a little Aspie/Auti like me);

“i get in still buzzing from tae kwo-do check my mail get a drink of some sort and sit down to get stuck in” “here i am with today a glass of coke as i decided alchohol would ruin the moment and a bowl of steaming pea and ham soup , im almost ashamed to admit from a tin”

BUT

“soup is now a cold gloopy mass as i started this before i finished ah well yin and yang ,you get a reply i get gloopy soup”

A legal email reply can result in gloopy soup, the illegal text replies may get around this problem, I don’t know, I don’t even want to entertain the thought.

Alex Leech was taunting me with his new shoes (orchid brand (bmx shoe) S&M’s) which he got for free from S&M bikes. I ask you this, is there anything better than getting free shoes? (Am I getting a little Imelda here?) YES, free shoes that look cool as fuck!

Dominique Delaney IS a new Auntie and had this to say with regard to her new Niece: “So far the prize for most ridiculous present goes to her great grandad,who gave her a lifesize cuddly walrus with lifeguard t shirt!” I actually LOL’d to that.

Lisa Jean Ball jumped into the wings/tail question among other things:

“Here’s a late vote for wings. I’m curious to know if anyone said tail…and WHY. Also – favourite kid mis-speak: ABCDEFG HIJK in the meadow pee QRS TUV WX Y and Z”

David Oakwood, who still hasn’t got around to writing his own 541 yet wrote me a MASSIVE missive, he tells me but;

“I just spent nearly an hour writing a response to you and it has been eaten by the fucking evil cyber monkeys.
BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBuggger it…………………
It was massive and it is now too sodding late.”

I believe you Dave. [Lifted eyebrow, Ironic, I’m joking face]

And my Padawan AKA cask monkey Nicolas Butler-Miles wrote me a congratulations. Ta Mate.

A congrats for what? Another reason this week was ON. At the Reading Beer Festival (purported to be the second biggest beer festival in the country after the Great British Beer Festival) we won a Bronze Award for Saracen IPA in its category and a Silver Award in the Stouts and Porter category for our Black Horse Porter.

This week we were all on!

Naming and shaming next week, get yer replies in.

309 to go!

Have a great week y’all

The Daddy Mack

Numero 17

BOOM! It’s back on Facebook!

Five for One, Five oh One (541 – 501) Numero 17

Week Ending 20Apr08

Five for One – You read, at most, five, then you send me one reply.

Five oh One – I hope to have 501 replies by the end of the year.

All replies to 5014mack@gmail.com or my facebook profile.

Starting out this week’s blurb with a bit of …And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead “So Divided” to get me in the mood…

I’m kinda down, I’ve still got no resolution on the facebook issue, consequently the replies are down, I’m not going to get 501 by the end of the year, my new boots are shit and making my feet hurt, the rash on my hands is itching like mental and there is no end to it. Oh woah is me. Bigger than all that, our little beauty of a Daughter has had two feverish days where she just has a vacant look on her face, never wants to be more than centimetres from her mother and whenever I look at her she starts to whine and say “mumma, mumma”. I can’t do anything and she wouldn’t want me to if I could!

Additional to the above on the day of edit: I’m Back! All is cool with facebook, my faith in humanity is restored. I was so worried to lose my facebook profile. It’s all well and good that there is virb/bebo/myspace but not so good when all your friends are on facebook. Everyone’s at the party and I’m not invited.

Rosemary still a little feverish, up and down – one day looking fine, the next all listless and not so fine.

On Saturday we went to Challow Hill farm to see some new lambs. Lucy, who runs the farm collects the spent grain from the brewery as feed for her cows. Maybe the cows could smell some spent grain on the tyres of our car (we had just come from the brewery and it is not out of the question that some errant grain had stuck there) or it could be that I carry around with me a musty spent grain odour that has infused with my own body’s through all my years of digging the mash. Actually there are numerous possibilities why what followed happened so let’s just get on with the happening rather than try to guess the reason why.

As we pulled up there where about 50 cows in the barn we pulled up next to and many of them started to “moo” (or “Nyow”/”Maaaaaeow”/”Moe” depending from where you hail). I don’t know if any of you have been close to a herd of cattle mooing but there is something primal in you that says “get away from these things you are going to die” while the rational reminds you these things have had docility bred in to them for centuries.. Even so your ears pipe in with “Geez, this is loud!”. Is it any wonder that Rosemary started crying?

We walked over to the little enclosure for the sheep and lambs and I had the misfortune to step in a large shite (or is that lucky? They say it’s lucky to have a bird defecate on you…) that I couldn’t for the life of me scuff off. I chose to ignore it and hobble a bit more than usual due to the slight elevation of my left foot.

The lambs were amazing, I crouched down, they thought I had food and came straight over. The mothers weren’t fussed. Lucy picked up a lamb and showed Rosemary who gave it a pat on the head and a grin. We talked and petted and then took our leave. “Mack, you’ve got some shit stuck to your boot, scuff it off on the concrete” Lucy told me. I tried but it was like I’d trodden in a lifetime supply of new brown coloured Blu Tack (http://www.blutack.com/BLU_TACK.htm)

We went to see the still pregnant sheep and look at the Tractor built by the (I’m Assuming – and you know what they say if you assume you make and ass out of u and me but I’m almost positive this is not the case here) fabulous tractor builders McCormick’s.

Good old Lucy letting us have a look round the farm, taking time out of her busy day. Ever known a farmer who aint busy?

This week I’ve been “reading” “The Lovely Bones” by Alice Sebold. Little background here; I read “The Time Traveller’s Wife” (Awesome book – it’s about time travel, who doesn’t love the paradoxes that creates?) last year and on the front cover I kept reading the quote “Here’s the next The Lovely Bones…a rare book – The Evening Standard”. I bought “The Lovely Bones” because of this for Lindsay’s birthday.

I apologised profusely to Lindsay this week for such an unwise book choice. Anyone who doesn’t want any spoilers skip the rest of this paragraph. A book about a 14 year old girl being raped, then murdered and then watching her family from heaven and seeing her dad fall apart!!! What?!! I really didn’t enjoy listening to this book but as Magnus Magnusson would say “I’ve started so I’ll finish”. (I never knew that esteemed presenter of Mastermind was Icelandic and never became a British citizen – or is Wikipedia lying to me? Did he have a dog that said “voff”?)

To completely contradict my last statement, I never actually finished “The Time Traveller’s Wife” I think for two reasons; I was loving it so much and didn’t want it to end and (Skip next line if you don’t like spoilers) I found out the guy was only going to live a certain amount of time and therefore not be around in his daughter’s future. I guess I’d been thinking about my own mortality (does having a kid do this to everyone?) and not being around for my little beauty. I’ll get back to it though, cliché time “it aint over until the fat lady sings” and she aint singing yet. Oh geez, what if I croak before I finish reading it? Better get back to it pronto.

Ecasks rang on Monday to say “We’ve got 100 casks they’ll be there on Tuesday” Oh Joy of Joys! We’ll fill the Green King order and still have casks to use ourselves. Belter!

I may have said this already but whenever I hand something for Rosemary to sniff (a flower, some mint, freshly ground coffee she exhales onto it. She’ll get there.

The 541 is back on facebook!

Don’t ask me why, I have absolutely no clue about baseball but I predict the St Lois Cardinals will win the World Series this year. The only thing I know about baseball is if you get a Boston Red Sox shirt, pour concrete over it (specifically the concrete of the new New York Yankees stadium) let it set, brag to your mates, get it dug out, it is worth infinitely more than you paid for it!

Auntie Jeanne sent an awesome Boston Red Sox outfit (all pink) for Rosemary. Thanks “Gee”.

Stubb’s pick of the week – a swingball from Sainsburys £7 and hours of fun.

Rosemary has taken to saying (instead of mum/mom) “Mum-Mao” she ends it with a nice Frankie Howard-esque “ooh” face.

http://www.rhythm365.com/raiders/images/raiders3/img042.jpg

Just before bath time (Rosemary says “Baps” for bath), Rosemary likes to climb onto the bed in the guest room, actually saying that, she likes to hold her arms up and have me flip her onto the bed onto her back. “ack ack ack” she’ll say sounding like an alien from Mars Attacks but meaning “again again again”. Then ensues all manner of flips and rolls and chucking (of her) around the bed. (I do it gently mom). Great fun.

The 541 is back on facebook! I can’t believe it! Just when I thought my target of getting 501 replies by the end of the year was slipping away, it looks like we could still be in with a chance there, people.

Scott Sigler’s podcasted audiobook “Nocturnal” is getting so good. My padawan and I are loving it and keep quoting Pookie Chang. Everything this character says is funny. You want a good free audiobook, check it out. Mind how ya go though, it gets a bit tweaky here and there.

Props

Paula and Konrad have been having a tough time of it with an unexplained rash that their daughter garnered. Hope all is good/better for all of you.

Alex Leech informs us of a legend spotted in Oxford:

“Peppers has re-opened!! I have been there twice already, and its so so good. Its just like it used to be, but with the addition of a few more sauces, and even Lamb and chicken burgers (the beef and Vegi are totally the same as before). They have even got some great soft drinks to choose from and some table and chairs in there as well.”

It was his birthday last week too, something we all forgot! Happy Birthday, mate.

Andrew Bruce’s 5 month old son has learned to roll over now!

Cousin Cath wrote “My question to you is, did Rosemary pronounce “ash” as “ash” or as I suspect “ass” and then walked around all day saying it and you walked around with a red face for the foul mouthed toddler? When I Nannied there was a boy down the street who said “fire fuck” instead of “fire truck”.  His mom kept shushing him.  Our favourite family mis- pronunciations are; marshpillows (marshmallows), stu walkwalker (luke skywalker), cramra (camera) and mis-till-toe (mistletoe).”

It was “ash” How very dare you! I didn’t realise that my Cousin Cath is also a closet gearhead. You learn something new everyday.

The question is still out there though with only one answer (from Cousin Cath)

If you had a choice, Wings or Tail? On you I mean.

Cath’s reply “wings.  Definitely wings.  I’d rather have to buy or alter all my clothes than deal with a tail on the toilet.”

Wouldn’t you just wrap it around yourself?

All of you facebookers who are completeists (and I know I am) and want the full collection, let me know and I’ll send along the 541’s you’ve missed out on.

Arron Hamblin has a band called The Mysterio2 and he says “we’re playing at the Splash Reunion on May 4th. Tickets still available from myself, Andy, Music Stand in Witney or Rapture in Witney. Hope to see you there.” Check ‘em out. I’m off to his facebook fan-page now to see if I can hear some stuff.

Dominique Delaney, are you an Auntie now? Who da kid?

319 to go!

Have a great week y’all,

The Mack Daddy

Number Sixteen

Five for One, Five oh One (541 – 501) Number Sixteen

Week Ending 20Apr08

Five for One – You read, at most, five, then you send me one reply.

Five oh One – I hope to have 501 replies by the end of the year.

All replies to 5014mack@gmail.com or my facebook profile.

A bit of Senses Fail (“Still searching”) to get me going and I’m off on another journey into the previous week with the inevitable tangential thought thrown in for bonus.

I lie.

Who knows how I forgot this but the week that was chronicled in Numero Quince (15) completely omitted the fact that two 13year old French girls came to stay with us from Monday to Thursday. Daphne and Claire were two very shy girls with slightly more of a grasp of the English language than I have of the French one (which really isn’t much). I guess it slipped my mind because apart from an awkward couple of hours realising they had no idea what my slang-laden speech was trying to get across every evening (they usually returned from excursions at around 7pm and went to bed at 9pm), I really didn’t encounter them that much.

Lindsay, who is fluent in French (though I’m sure modesty will not allow her to admit this) had a fun at times listening to them talk to each other in hushed tones “What’s this? I prefer tartine” (muffins) “this is a weird fork” (the grapefruit spoon, with serrated edges – yes we own such a thing!).

I will preface what I am about to say with the following as I do not want you to think I am slipping into xenophobic stereotypes:

Young bodies probably don’t sweat as much as full grown adult ones.

That said, from the time I picked them up on Monday evening (and searched for the word for cold then remembered “c’est frois” – why did I remember this in amongst my extremely sparse knowledge of French? I once sat outside Montparnasse station (in Paris) waiting for Lindsay to return from a lecture and got chatting to a bum. I couldn’t understand a word he said and visa versa but I think both of us were happy for the company. The one phrase I did pick up was “c’est frois” which I took to mean “it’s cold” by the way he kept rubbing his hands together and blowing into them while saying this) (BTW, I was a little disappointed by Montparnasse station. I was expecting a large masonary building with big arches and an old steam locomotive sticking out the front of it. http://www.imageenvision.com/photo/0003-0702-2622-5557.html I guess though that image is very striking, it might not be practical. The new station is very modern, but with a certain beauty to it. I found this out when I went inside to buy my new friend some cigarettes)

So, from the time I picked them up on Monday evening until they left on Thursday morning, not once did they use the shower!

I don’t know why the Montparnasse image reminds me of the Headington Shark in Oxford, but it does http://www.headington.org.uk/shark/

I also forgot to mention, Glen and I had a roaring bonfire on the vegetable patch on the Saturday night. It was one of those infernos that you are kinda nervous is going to get out of control, but then dies back to a nice face-reddening, body-warming size.

On the Sunday I dug all the ash into the vegetable patch and all the remaining weeds out (the ones that hadn’t been scorched out of existence).

Monday with a day off, Rosemary, Lindsay, Silke and Andrew their daughter Marie and I took the train to London Paddington and then walked through Kensington Gardens to the Natural History museum, passing the Albert Memorial http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Albert_Memorial (what a memorial! I have never seen such a thing! It’s immense!).

In the museum Rosemary learned the word ash (from the volcano exhibit) and proceeded to say it over and over throughout the day.

We walked past the stuffed birds, Rosemary’s thumb and forefinger were working overtime snapping together then apart (the sign language sign for bird) I was particularly impressed by the utterly inadaptable but nonetheless infamous Dodo.

Then we entered the main hall and I was suddenly transported back into childhood. Looking at the brontosaurus (I think) skeleton and the hall itself, two very striking things, I recalled a film from childhood. I couldn’t remember the name at the time but I’m pretty sure now that it was “Bed knobs and Broomsticks” a children’s film that was made the same year I was born! With Angela “Murder She Wrote” Landsbury and Roddy McDowall (Who was in “Planet of the Apes” but let’s not forget his leading role as Mr Stallwod in the 1982 two-part TV special “The Cat From Outer Space” – who can?)

Rosemary absolutely loves her new playhouse and every time we go into the garden she has to drown, I mean, water the plants that are in containers in front and to the side of her little domicile. I say plants but it is more apt to say, waterlogged seeds that have no chance of growing.

Back to work on Wednesday to a shitstorm in teacup. We’ve got a big order from Green King that we have to fill next week and to cut a long story short and avoid office politics we don’t have enough casks. Ecasks who rent casks for a single-fill one way trip (i.e. you fill them and send them to a wholesaler/distributer and then forget about them) did not have any casks and they had been booked up for months. Hmmm….50 more grey hairs and hairline receding a little more.

This week I listened to “The Hacker Crackdown” by Bruce Sterling (an audiobook) all about the computer hackers / phone phreakers of the late 1980’ s and the subsequent response (heavy handed?) from the U.S. secret service. All very interesting, I am intrigued whenever someone looks at something and thinks “I’ve figured out a way around this” (or as my Israeli friend Shay used to say “once you know the system, you can fuck the system”).

I think I was affected by the film “Wargames” staring Matthew Broderick. Thing is I thought you had to be an uber-genius coder. It turns out you just have to connect to an underground message board and they hand out passwords / ways to get into commercial computer willy nilly. But one of the simplest methods of all they employed was “trashing”, basically going through a company’s trash dumpster and finding stuff they could use in there. So shred or burn your rubbish people. If you print this out to read at work during your coffee break, eat it! Otherwise some impostor might start sending you rubbish about what animals say in different countries, and let’s face it that was so February.

I also “read” the audiobook “The Lost Gospel of Judas Iscariot” by Bart D Ehrman.

(www.nationalgeographic.com/lostgospel/?fs=www9.nationalgeographic.com)

Turns out he wasn’t a betrayer but the only one who understood Jesus’ mission/destiny and helped him fulfil it! I’m being flippant here. I was amazed by the story of the discovery of the parchment it was written on, I was also amazed that the earliest gospel (Mark) was written 70 years after Jesus’s crucifiction.

Do you know what blew me away the most though? We don’t use the term AD (Anno Domini) after years anymore (e.g. 2000AD – which used to be a great comic to boot – it may still be but I haven’t checked it out in a while. YES Sly Stallone completely ruined the longest running character in that publication; Judge Dredd but let’s not go there eh?) we now use CE (Common Era)!

I always like to balance things out and hear the other side (for instance I subscribe to the Mysterious Universe podcast ( http://mysteriousuniverse.org/ – paranormal and other topics outside of the regular news) and for balance the Skepticality podcast which explores rational thought and sceptical ideas. I must say though, with regard to these two, the latter is rather blinkered and clings on to the notion that scientific principles are set in stone. If they were around in the time of Gallileo they would be members of the Holy Office of the Inquisition. The Former has some truly fantastic stories. Do I believe all of them? Hell no! Am I entertained by all of them? Hell yeah).

With that in mind, next week I’m “reading” Richard Dawkins’ “The God Delusion”.

I’ve got a question for you all. If you had a choice, Wings or Tail? On you I mean.

When the grass is slightly damp from the early morning dew and Rosemary is apparelled in her pink-cammo waterproofs. She shoots down her little plastic slide and just keeps on sliding across the grass. UNLESS her boots dig in, then she pivots on her feet and would flip 180 degrees if she didn’t get her hands out in time, which she does.

For a company that is all about getting in touch with people, it’s a little ironic that facebook haven’t got back to me. Am I a spammer? Who knows, all you getting this through email know but those poor folk out in the wild hinterlands of the facebook 541 have no idea. Poor souls.

Props

Richard Jones said “I also can’t believe you live in Reading, I work in Henley just a stones throw.” Yeah? I work in Stanford in the Vale, try throwing a stone from Henley to there [smiley face]. Then again he’s got two little kids, he must have beefed up arms from all that carrying.

Terri Anderson enlightened me on the joys of working in Washington DC (along with tonnes of Catholics descending on the place to see Pope Benedict):

“On top of the religio-tourists, we are being graced by an upswing of
motorcades.  Motorcades are a daily occurrence here anyway, and since
my office is in a busy area, you can almost guarantee that just as
soon as I get on the phone to talk to someone about some work thing or
other, here comes….. the VP!  Or, some Ambassador!
Whoooo-whoo-whoo-whoo go the sirens, and you might as well as forget
about your conversation while all of that is going by.  We are also
occasionally graced by protests since there are several orgs on our
street that attract that sort of attention (and the Iraqi embassy is
around the corner from us, too), and unfortunately protesters usually
use bullhorns nowadays, so, I can forget about phone calls when a
protest is going on, too.  So, this morning, as I probably should have
expected, I encountered no less than **3** motorcades on my walk to
work.  I can hear the helicopters going around now, too.  Sigh.  Well,
if I ever leave DC, I can tell you, I will **not** miss the
motorcades!”

my Cousin Cath has even been pleading with facebook to allow me to spam, I mean, send the 541 through that as well. But listen to this little nugget of gold:

“I have a version on the misquote.  My mother-in-law always uses “AKA” the wrong way.  She uses it instead of meanwhile or along with.  I have tried to explain it to her, but she doesn’t want to get it.  She’ll use it like “We can decorate the Christmas tree, AKA I put on a crock pot Pot Roast for dinner.”  Sometimes you just can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

Something else she said tickled me:

“Right now you think it’s cute that Rosemary thought she might have to move to the play house but wait till she’s 12 then you’ll want her to live there!  It is wondrous to watch your child learn new things and words.  Only the parent of more than 1 kid knows how stupid we are for teaching them to talk.  I keep wondering how quiet the house could be if the 2 monsters actually stopped talking for 5 minutes.  They even talk and snore in their sleep!”

Paula and Konrad, all I can say is hope all is well with your smallest one, we’ve got a picture of your two on the fridge, from a while back. Whenever Rosemary sees it she says “bay-bee” and points to your youngest.

Stubb, thanks for the kind words, but I’m not sure I can count text messages as replies….wait a minute who is making up these rules?

323 to go (check the 23 there!)

322 if you include Stubb’s text

Have a great week y’all,

The Daddy Mack

Numero Quince

Five for One, Five oh One (541 – 501) Numero Quince

Week Ending 13Apr08

Five for One – You read, at most, five, then you send me one reply.

Five oh One – I hope to have 501 replies by the end of the year.

All replies to 5014mack@gmail.com or my facebook profile.

Hmm, still no resolution over whether I’m spammer scum on facebook or being legit sending you stuff through there. If you are reading this then I’ve either got your email or it has been resolved. I’ve got too many pictures on facebook to get booted off.

Monday and Tuesday saw the two Matts, soon to be brewers for Randalls Brewery, come visit us and learn a bit about real-ale brewing (both having been well-versed in lager brewing but no experience in ale). They were hipped to the experience and seemed to enjoy themselves.

On the Tuesday a brewing consultant called John came to visit. He’s the guy helping Randalls Brewery (in Guernsey) set up their new brew-plant on a new site. Apparently he charges £1000 a day to consult, but is a friend of one of the investors of Randalls so he’s probably dropped his rate.

The one thing that blew me away while talking to John is he said that he had been setting up breweries in Romania and they had to use feed barley

“Feed Barley?” I asked, “isn’t that too high in Nitrogen?”

“There are ways around that”, he explained “you can use formaldehyde”.

Yes, you are right in thinking formaldehyde is the stuff you use to preserve things in jars. Or, if you are Damian Hirst, to create “Mother and Child Divided” (http://arts.guardian.co.uk/pictures/image/0,8543,-17404774275,00.html )and other works.

Or if you are a 15 year old brewer-to-be who is a little bit upset about the lovely mice that are being caught in traps around the brewery and feel it a shame to just throw them in a bin, you use industrial strength methylated spirits and create your own Damin Hirst-esque art-piece in a Gordons gin bottle that you will call 20 years later, “Fifteen Mice, Pickled.” Geez, that nutter could have been a cereal killer, oh wait, yeah, in effect he does that every day.

We went on to discuss the ancient practice of using formaldehyde in the mash tun (which form complexes with proteins and polyphenols that can contribute to cloudy beer) and I was amazed to learn that they still use it in Belarus! We were told on the Post-Graduate course that it is supposed to evaporate up the chimney of the copper when the boil is on, but it’s still not a great idea to be using it, or in fact legal in most countries.

Rosemary whenever she is going up the stairs says “upsee”. Also when she sees pictures of Auntie Jeanne she says “Gee”.

On Friday I got a call to the brewery: “Do you have a truck out near Hungerford today?”
Knowing that Andy was delivering out that way in the dray and Nick was in Birmingham collecting empty casks in a rental van I confirmed that we were indeed delivering near Hungerford.

“I’ve just been following your driver and he has been reading a newspaper at the wheel!”

Oh, how I have waited for a busy-body call like this. Similar to my working-life-long quest of being stopped by the police on the way home from work and the officer saying “you smell like a brewery!”. Time for some fun.

“Reading a paper at the wheel” I sigh, “this isn’t the only complaint I’ve had about this particular driver. He’s had a written warning, but I am fed-up. I’m gonna sack him when he gets back”.

“Oh, er, that seems a little severe, perhaps just warn him that it is very dangerous to drive while reading a newspaper”

“No, no, I’ve had it up to here with this guy, he’s fired. Thank-you very much for informing me of his indiscretion”.

Toot toot sweet!

I was informed it is in fact Au Contraire, not my rather comically written (and completely unintended to be so) “oh Contraire”. This brings up a point though. I love hearing people misquote clichés. I heard a great one the other day on a podcast: “Nothing adventured, nothing gained” – brilliant! I would love to hear of any clichés misquotes any of you have heard. Jerry Springer/Jeremy Kyle shows are a great source for these.

Bill came over on Saturday and fixed our petrol lawnmower, then proceeded to mow our lawn with it “Just to check it didn’t misfire”. Gear-heads find enjoyment even in lawnmower engines! He then changed the oil and oil filter on Old Red for us. How cool is that? Above and beyond the Cool of duty, I say.

While Bill was busy getting his hands covered in oil, Glen and I put together Rosemary’s playhouse. Lindsay’s boss, Mark had donated it to us and it is a beautiful creation of snap together primary colour plastic pieces. It took us about ten minutes to scrub it off and put it together but Rose has already spent way more than that in it.

When she saw it she smiled a big smile, then kinda frowned, thinking (I’m guessing) that she’d have to move out of our house. Once we told her it was only for play when she’s outside she was smiling again. In she went and her face was the epitome of glee.

On Sunday Lindsay and Rosemary got stuck out in the rain in the garden and took shelter in Rosemary’s playhouse. I stood in the kitchen looking down to the bottom of the garden and could see a little hand poke out of the side window, the shutters open then Rosemary popping her head out, then a little hand closing the shutters again. Repeat ad-nauseum.

Props

Thanks to Yogi, Lisa, Paula and my cousin Cath for messages of support while I still wait for Facebook’s User Operations Team to get back to me.

Paddy Glenny told me “Pasta d’orzo is pasta made from barley (orzo is barley in Italian and riso is rice). Interesting, as I live in Italy and have never seen pasta made from orzo!”

I had no idea it was made from barley but it is shaped like rice and for some reason I have got it in my head that it is called rice pasta.

Bill Stavely agreed with a sentiment expressed in number 14, “You are also right about the driving. Even Russians generally allegedly modify their appalling road behaviour in the snow. I cycled in the remnants of the snow and it was excellent.”

Who doesn’t like cycling in snow? Probably people who have to deal with it a lot more than we do, North Americans, Russians, Norwegians maybe.

Andrew Bruce, also a fan of Coleman’s wrote “However when your wife while using their lovely “Double Super Fine” mustard powder in a salad mix reads 2 tsp as 2 tbsp and then puts in three tablespoons you’re in for a breath-stealing, runny nose, fire paste instead of a sublime hint of mustard dressing. “I put in the extra as I wanted it to have some kick…” she stated later on after we drank litres of water each.”

Extreme salad eating eh? Also, Andrew, Neda is fine about you bothering her by email.

Paula Bergen sent a recipe for an Easy Peanut Butter & Chocolate Eclair Dessert and once I figure out how to get it out of the table it is in I’ll maybe include it in a future 541. On the subject of snow driving she had this to say, “Also, have to agree with your wife on the winter driving…slow down & take it easy…I guess snow is not something the UK are used to driving on….you all drive fast (HEE) …roads are way to narrow and on the wrong side of the road at that!! Hee! Would be something to see that’s for sure. I had a smile on my face reading that thinking of USA Lindsay commenting on the Brits winter driving! Too funny!

Terri Anderson sent out a message to Stubb and Becks “Big congratulations to your friends who got engaged.  That’s good stuff!”. She also had a lot to say about visiting a town called Acoma in New Mexico,
“The historic community of Acoma is now called Acoma Sky City, and the
reason it’s called that is because the town is located on top of a
mesa, several hundred feet up from the valley floor–as if in the sky.
There wasn’t even a road up to the community until the 1950s or so.
There has never been plumbing or electricity on top of the mesa, but
people still live up there.  It’s said that Acoma is the oldest
continually inhabited community in the United States.  They were there
long before the Spanish!”

It sounded amazing.

Mack’s additional to English dictionary:

To Spraff – to rabbit on, seemingly unendingly, about anything or nothing.

330 to go!

Have a great week y’all

The Mack Daddy

Number 14

Five for One, Five oh One (541 – 501) Number 14

Week Ending 6Apr08

Five for One – You read, at most, five, then you send me one reply.

Five oh One – I hope to have 501 replies by the end of the year.

All replies to 5014mack@gmail.com or my facebook profile.

Well we’ve had a few firsts with the 541 already haven’t we? (First reply – Dave Oakwood, first snail-mail reply – Andrew Bruce, first 541 gift reply – Paul Radburn) are you ready for a brand new first? The first 541 recipe reply brought to you by the great gourmet Lisa Jean:

Two Bean and Tomato Stew With Orzo

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 can diced tomatoes
1 can white kidney beans
1 can pinto beans
2 cups chicken stock
1 parmesan cheese rind (keeps well in the freezer for occasions like this)
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 cup orzo pasta or any small pasta
1/4 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese

Directions

Heat oil in a large saucepan over medium heat.
Add onion and cook for 3 minutes.
Add garlic during the last minute or so.
Add the tomatoes with their juice, the beans (rinsed and drained), the stock, cheese rind, dried herbs and pepper.
Reduce the heat, cover and simmer for 20 minutes.
Add pasta, return to a boil, then reduce the heat again and simmer until the pasta is cooked to your liking.
Serve garnished with parmesan (and parsley, if you feel like it).

More fally/wintery than springy, but good any time. Takes 5 minutes of active time to make.

I got quite excited when I thought, it was a soup made with ouzo, became downhearted that ouzo was anise-flavoured, and I dislike this flavour, was re-energised when I realised I’d mis-read (not mis-spoke like Hilary Clinton – topical political gag) then became confused. Orzo pasta??

I’ve just wikipedia’d it and realise to my delight it is what we call rice-pasta. Bingo! We even have some of that in the cupboard! We are good to go!

The great thing about this soup is its all-inclusive, even vegetarians can enjoy it. Vegans – just replace the parmesan with er….scheese, or cheezly, or tofutti or I don’t know you’ll know the cheese replacement product you prefer, knock yersel’ oot!

While we’re on the subject of food has anyone else noticed that Colman’s (of Norwich) Mustard isn’t just fine mustard powder, oh no, it’s not even superfine mustard powder, heck no! It’s DOUBLE Superfine Mustard Powder! Don’t believe me? Check it: http://www.colmansmustard.com/colmans_mustard_usa.html

Brewing-wise this week has been shut-down (Monday), brew, brew, Meet the Brewer, brew, brew, Meet the Brewer. Hmm, there’s a strange rhythm to that when typing it.

Monday we had Vince in from a local engineering firm who plugged a slight leak in the mash tun/copper jacket. Our system heats water in two “bombs” that are basically just metal cylinders containing heating elements (think two big electric kettles) then pumps this hot water around the outside jacket of the mash tun/copper. Basically the vessel has a gap between the metal wall of the copper and the metal jacket which the hot water streams around. This hot water imparts its heat, via conduction to the mash, or wort inside the vessel, depending on whether it is being used as a mash tun in the former case or a copper (AKA brew kettle) in the latter.

Like the boy putting his finger in a dyke (steady, ya pervs!) to save Holland, (Yeah, I know it is in fact spelled “dike”) it was better to plug this slight leak (pin-hole sized) before the 6 bar (87psi) of super-heated water makes it rather large and me a steaming bubbling hideous parody of the wicked witch of the west – “I’m melting!”.

Wednesday saw Andy and I drive up to The Saracen’s Head pub in Daventry (a Wetherspoons outlet) for a pimp the brewery, I mean “Meet the Brewer” event. This had been widely publicised in the place and eight people turned up! Yeah, eight. Two hard of hearing chaps in their eighties, a big bearded fellow (in which I mean he had both a big beard and was, shall we say large-boned?) a Scottish couple in their forties and a guy who looked like he’d be well at home on the stage of Vic Reeves Big Night Out. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RoFwqszPnq4). Those of you on the ball will have added that up and thought “hold on, that’s only six! Who were the other two illustrious attendees?”. Bar staff. Intimate affair but they enjoyed the spraffing by Andy and myself, drank plenty of our beer asked quite a few pertinent questions and a few irrelevant ones.

Failure, you’re thinking “that’s a bit of a failure, innit mate?”. Oh contraire. It was nice to chat to a few people on a less formal level than a normal MTB, there were no nerves and if you speak to folk about all the positive aspects of your job, you come away from it all pepped up and enthused about what you do. It’s kinda like if you were to write about the good stuff happening to you on a weekly basis. I should do that…

Cliffhanger alert! Next Meet the Brewer later (though this one promised to be a BIG one which would include the directors of JD Wetherspoons themselves!) lets change subjects first.

The beautiful Rosemary, that awesome daughter of mine (and what dad doesn’t think that of their offspring, male or female?) This week Rosemary learned to catch a football that if we scaled her and the ball up to adult size, the ball would be the size of a medicine ball (http://www.medicineballs.com/education/howto/howto.html). I threw it, (nice easy to catch arc, not over-arm 90mph pitch) she caught it and immediately let out an excited, joyous laugh. I had to do it again and again and again. I couldn’t get enough of that laugh and it appeared every time she caught it (but never when she was unsuccessful).

Our basil seeds, we planted last week are on their way up, breaking through the compost. Rosemary looked fairly interested, or was she just humouring me? I can’t tell.

Hey I saw rapeseed (oilseed rape, the bright yellow fields – for those in North America replace rapeseed with canola) flowering on Friday. Hayfever is just round the corner for so many!

The other day I pointed out to Rosemary the shiny spoon ( from an excellent set Stubb and Becks gave her) she held in her hand could act as a mirror, but even better than that, close-up it’s a fun-house mirror and round this way it’s upside down! That’s the principle of a concave and convex mirror in one brilliantly shaped utensil. She quite enjoyed looking at herself in the convex side but the image-flipping convex side didn’t hold her interest.

I was due to go into work on Sunday, we all were, for a good old-fashioned spring clean. I woke at 7am and was flabbergasted to see a 3-4inch covering of snow. Why are we so unable to embrace either metric or imperial measurements in this country? I measure small stuff in centimetres and millimetres yet as soon as I get to height, it’s feet and inches, long distances – miles. Snow – inches, waist – inches. It’s similar in brewing, everything is measured in pints, gallons, firkins (9gallons) Kilderkins (18 gallons) Barrels (36gallons), yet I measure temperature in degrees Celsius, and flow rates in Litres per hour.

I was gutted that I was going to miss Rosemary’s first REAL snow, and told Linds “take loadsa photies wont you?” I wrapped up warm and drove like an old lady (I’m not being sexist here, merely realist – women live longer than men therefore statistically there are bound to be more old ladies driving than old men, who have practically all croaked) on roads that had only one set of tyre-tracks cut into the snow. Lindsay always laughs at Brits driving in the snow. She’s had a lot more experience of it, being from New England. “British drivers don’t slow down when it snows and they still tailgate!”. I was amazed I was overtaken in Pangbourne by some nutter, but not that amazed. I was the other side of Goring, not looking forward to a long hill that I would have to negotiate my way up when Big Andy rang and said, and I’m paraphrasing here, “ey up lad, snow deep, dangerous, don’t come in, drive safely home, I’m off down t’pit t’ dig some coal for fire” (he’s from Yorkshire and didn’t say that last bit)

“Wilco!”

I shot back home to Lindsay and Rosemary like the absurdly dangerous British driver in snow that I knew I was.

We bundled Rosemary up in warm clothes, covered with her pink camouflage waterproofs and went into the back garden. Oh the snow was perfect, I made a snowball and started to roll it, before long I was hoovering up all the snow in my path. It picked it all up, leaving just grass behind, that’s how snowman-friendly this snow was!

Rosemary isn’t too into men at the moment (that’ll be later in life, I imagine) but she IS into cats. I made her a four-foot tall (a meter tall? Ish? See, I have absolutely no idea!) snowcat. I almost broke my back getting the second boulder of snow on top of the first bigger one. Rosemary recognised the oddly shaped snowcat (complete with bark-mulch for nose, sticks for mouth and bay leaves for eyes) for what it was supposed to be and said a few cursory “meows” (actually she says “Ree-ow” – I guess I could relent and ask Greg Smith what language has a cat saying “Ree-ow” and realise that Rosemary is a Coptic genius, just like I knew she would be) . That structure stood for a whole ten minutes before the head fell off. Worry not, I got some shots of it, and Rosemary was nowhere near it by that point.

But the question you are all wondering, and it’s bugging you aint it? “Did Rosemary enjoy the snow, less about all the fun you had Mack”

Did she enjoy it? In a word, no. She just kept pointing at the snow, touching it and with a turned-up nose exclaiming “uh-oh, uh-oh!” holding her hand out as though a goat had sneezed on it.

Hmm, I just tried sending a message via facebook and it came back with a “you are blocked from doing this” message and a warning about spamming. Yogi I may need your help after-all. If everyone else on facebook doesn’t get a message through facebook next week then email me at 5014mack@gmail.com and I’ll add you to that email group. Or if you are looking for a way to tell me to nick-off with these infernal ramblings, here may be your opportunity to opt out.

Meet the Brewer at the Moon on the Water pub on Friday. Hmm…er, no-one really turned up and it was really loud in the main pub, so in the end we just sat around with a few customers, ate White-Horse Brewery Giant-laden sausages (Giant being one of our beers) and chatted about real ale and our little brewery. Not much to write home about. So much for a cliffhanger eh? Kinda how I felt. Padawan Nick did a stellar job though.

Props

I got a reply from my Dad, a proper-big one too! He was also listening to the Foo Fighters, how cool is he? He also called me the brewery bard. A bard!!! In my eyes I’m a spraffer and someone like David Oakwood (AKA Spacey the Bard) is a bard, he’s done a masters in creative writing after-all!

Bill wrote some words about “the widely revered Belarussian President-for-Life Lukashenka” which I aint gonna repeat. I heard a BBC Radio4 documentary about the KGB/FSB and they do not mess around. My lips are sealed.

Fear not everyone, Jeanne Dempsey is off to Dallas TX to learn about brain navigation, she will report back as to the exact time lag from light entering the iris to our brains registering it.

I got a double superfine, superhuge reply from Terri Anderson that I’m saving as a treat, once I’ve sent this out.

Susan Lucas stated “my nose vibrates too with electric toothbrushes, but they also make my ears itch so the assault of different sensations makes me pull odd, twitchy, aggrieved expressions.” Itchy nose AND ears, I think I would have to revert to manual.

Sam Shrimpton piped in (pun intended) with: “trim, pluck, wax that nose hair man, it tickles like buggery when it gets too long. Surely the use of the electric toothbrush is just making it all vibrating creating a tickle stick up the old aroma detection unit.”

Yogi gave Lindsay and I an awesome ego-boost: “Thanks for those kind words…but you know what…this is a bit of a coincidence and little spooky too! Kiran always says – and I agree – after every NCT meet (right from the first NCT class) that you & Lindsay make the most good looking couple (and now even more with Rosemary)…and I am not saying this because you complimented us either.”

Boom! I’m orbiting!

Paula King described an absolute nightmare scenario when her daughter “slid off our bed a couple of weeks ago. Her nightgown slid on the duvet and she banged her chin on our endtable. We ended up rushing to the hospital at 8pm and had to deal with stitches, 2 in her chin, 2 separate spots. Poor girl. She was a trooper. The doctor was fabulous. The nurse held her down wrapped like a mummy in a sheet to keep her arms down by her sides. Konrad held her legs and looked away (low tolerance with anything to do with blood and needles) and I helped to keep her head still while they sewed the 2 open wounds up while trying to talk in her ear that everything would be fine. She just kept yelling “Mommy, mommy, let me go!” Anyway, we got home at 11:30 pm. The next morning she woke up and pointed to her chin and said “I got 2 boo-boo’s” I said “Yes” She asked “What’s that?” and pointed to the big band-aid on her chin. I said “A Band-aid” She replied “All I wanted was a sticker!” and rolled her eyes! What a girl! She is only 2 ½”

Who doesn’t want a sticker eh?

339 to go!

Have a great week y’all,

The Daddy Mack

Numero Trece

Five for One, Five oh One (541 – 501) Numero Trece

(unlucky for me, Klingon week)

Week Ending 29Mar08

Five for One – You read, at most, five, then you send me one reply.

Five oh One – I hope to have 501 replies by the end of the year.

Fuelled by Foo Fighters “Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace”

Three months in, a quarter of the year passed, let’s think 501 divided by 4 is 125.25. Hmmm..so 501 minus 125.25 equals 375.75. If I have less than three-hundred, seventy-five and three quarter emails I’m on the way to the target of 501. Let’s see, what did we have at the end of Number Twelve? 354. Oh my goodness, you beautiful people we are well on the way! And then some!

Dull week with a pain in my forehead that was anything but dull!

Didn’t feel great Monday, I’m sure everyone thought I just had a hangover – nope.

Tuesday I went into work and just had to turn my ushanka round backwards and cover my eyes (quick sidenote here, if I’m feeling cheeky and think I can get away with it. I respond to “Nice Russian hat” with “it’s a Ushanka, you wanker!” – Ta to Bill and Elena who brought it back from Belarus) sit on the sofa and hope the lemsip would kick in. It didn’t, I went off and got some sudofed then had to sit in Old Red (my Peugeot 306) and wait for them to kick in. At about 11am Nick came over and said “Take this Giant to the Horse and Jockey, Reading, then go home mate”. (Giant is the name of one of our beers at the moment; he hadn’t just found a large bloke).

I drove the whole way with one eye open! Which is better than sleeping with one eye open. Any metal-heads with me on that one?

I slept for practically three days solid, waking only for pain-killers/decongestants or Rosemary running into the room and giving me a kiss.

On Saturday I went with Rosemary, Lindsay, Meredith and her daughter to “Sing along with Marjorie” at the local Battle Library. Marjorie is a Scottish, very dour looking Headmistress-type (one who would be very strict I imagine) and yet there she sits in front of a room of mothers and babies/toddlers (and a few fathers, to be fair – but if this was a pie-chart of what people would do if they won the lottery the fathers would be the slice entitled “give it all to charity” (Joke credit – the classic Mitch Hedberg RIP)) and she sings nursery rhymes with all sorts of hand/head/body actions to go along with it. Everyone sings along with Marjorie, which is probably where it gets it’s name.

I heard about this from Linds, who takes Rosemary along every week (usually on a Friday) and thought it sounded fantastic. I was happy to tag along, what I was not expecting was the sheer numbers of attendees. I am kidding you not, there were at least 50 adult-child combos. AT LEAST! The room was big and it was packed! I have to admit I was more than a little intimidated. I am ashamed to say I had to sit it out in the push-chair park, I mean main library. I still didn’t feel too great either, or am I just making excuses for my Jesse-ness? (Hey where does that phrase come from “ya great big Jessie”? I’ve only just discover that the phrase – “what a Jip” is racist and refers to Gypsies, I had no idea!)

I pretended to read a coupla comic books, closed my eyes and listened to the beautiful sound of more than a hundred people singing “Row row row your boat gently down the stream” and other classics. It sounded like a gospel choir at times!

Has anyone heard the theme tune to Dallas lately? One funky Wah-Wah’d guitar in there and I had no idea!

Rosemary and I planted some Basil seeds in a little greenhouse this week, well I say we. I poured some of the little black seeds in her hand for her to then scatter on the compost and she kinda looked horrified and started to shake her hand. The seeds that fell on the table we put into the compost along with the ones still stuck to her hand. We sowed the seeds and scattered.

I read this in Mark Locke’s “Diary of a Brand New Dad” (it’s on the day of his daughter’s birth):

“In the interim I left Ju to try and sleep (she couldn’t, too

wired, but at least looking more and more herself) and went

to the dining room to write up old texts. Still like to keep texts

if they’re funny/poignant/meaningful etc and my inbox was

totally full, so thought I’d best clear some space by writing

them up Luddite-style, ahead of what would probably be a

congratulations texts deluge once I started texting out.

Actually managed to get a few written down, despite the

sleep deprivation, then was politely asked to leave the room

so that residents could come in. Not sure quite why I couldn’t

be there – they wouldn’t have babies with them so it’s not like

they’d be breastfeeding, but men clearly not conducive to

their breakfasting.”

There are many in the 541 who would think this a little strange, manually writing texts that are funny/poignant/meaningful etc??? I know exactly what you are thinking – why wouldn’t you keep ALL your texts? I know I do, ask Kate Tyte, or her friend who thinks I’m a complete tweaker for telling her this. It’s not like I carry them around with me all the time, they are neatly filed in a filofax mini-sized folder. I’m so autistic!

On the subject of mild autism, does anyone else stop as they are walking somewhere and realise “I’ve done 147 steps so far”?? Or when they are pumping air into the tyre of their bike realise they pumped 23 times?

Parp Parp! Welcome aboard Mr Arron Hambling. I lift my metaphoric baseball hat with both hands and throw an idiotic smile your way!

Is it because I have a larger than average hooter or does anyone else’s nose vibtrate in an obscenely tickly way when they use an electric toothbrush?

Props

My Sister wrote:

“on the subject of Floofts (well sort of) [her son] had an upset stomach this week. Had vomiting wed then a day of runny poo(sorry you need the details for the “punchline”) he said to me “oh look my poo has melted!!! lovely!”

Oh the 541 sinks to ever lower depths!

My Mother-In-Law Marsha wrote of her brother in Vermont being totally snowed in but “I’ll take 80 degress and sunny with a tropical seabreeze just about everyday anytime over that!”. Oh to live in Florida eh?

Neda who was named and shamed last week stepped up with a nice reply:

“Name and shame indeed….
How did you know I flooft a lot? Don’t tell me all those times
I thought I was alone in the wilderness of my garden,
you were lurking behind the fence….oh well, hazards of living next to the greatest floofter ever…
Somebody here said that only a guy could find the subject of Passing Wind interesting enough to
write about…. not true, take any Iranian, and they’ll laugh themselves into a hernia at the mere
mention of a fart….don’t get me started.
And to conclude, I only have one thing to say…. better out than in…amen.”

Amy Molnar called me a nutter, but in a nice way.

Paul Dywelska is still trying to get around the naming and shaming by sending out another “out of office auto-reply”. We all know that isn’t valid, don’t we?

The other week we had some friends over who had a 3year old girl. In she came, chatty as anything, real cute voice, transposing T’s for C’s (tup instead of cup) and D’s for G’s (“that’s dood” for “that’s good”). At one point, I think I was making the coffee, the girls were sat drawing at Rosemary’s little table at the back of the kitchen. Both were chatting away (okay so Rose was only saying “jubba jubba jubba jub” but to her, that’s communication) when the three-year old suddenly said “speak properly!”.

Speak properly?? You can’t even distinguish T’s, C’s, D’s and G’s ya little witch. I’m being over-sensitive aren’t I? Children are just horrible to each other. One day, I’m sure, I’ll accept that.

Happy Birthday to my sister Louise whose birthday it will be before the next 541 (7^th April if you wanna get your cards sent).

Does it ever strike you that it takes a fraction of a second for the light that enters your eyes to hit the back of your retina and then a fraction of a second for that signal to get to your brain and then a fraction of a second for your brain to process this information. I ask you this – Who isn’t living in the past?

I’m not perhaps using it in context here but I was listening to Rick Reynolds show “All Grown Up….And No Place To Go” and heard this: (Transcribed as best I could)

“I have these fantasies now, these horrible fantasies, I think all parents have these where something… huh!…just, they fall and you can’t reach and you push push push it out and its just this cold… and I can no longer push them away. I have this fantasy that I’m reading the paper and Jack is out front and Jack should never be out front by himself. And then car brakes screech and ..HUH!..and I, my heart jumps up, and I run out and I see him, and I run down the sidewalk and I pick him up and my life is over. And I’m just saying please let this thing not have happened, let me go back to yesterday, when everything was perfect. And you know what? I’ve got my wish, I have got the thing I’ve wanted most, MOST in my whole life. It is yesterday, Cooper is fine, Cooper is in his bed, Jack is great, he’s in his Crib, and Lisa is keeping our bed warm….”

Let’s never forget, IT IS YESTERDAY! Enjoy it like it’s today

350 to go!

Have a great week y’all

The Mack Daddy

Number Twelve

Five for One, Five oh One (541 – 501) Number Twelve

Week Ending 23Mar08

Five for One – You read, at most, five, then you send me one reply.

Five oh One – I hope to have 501 replies by the end of the year.

So it started out like any other Easter Sunday, the snow was falling. Wait, what??? Snow is falling? It’s spring, the daffs have been going great guns, I’ve seen Magnolia trees in magnificent bloom, my mum has reported that the cherry trees are in blossom on Burford road. I look over at Rose’s beautiful face asleep next to me and think “oh is she in for a surprise!” I look at the gorgeous face of an awake Lindsay who whispers to me again “have you seen it’s snowing?”

It ended in me being rather drunk and a very good mate being engaged to be married. WOW! What an Easter Sunday!

But let’s get to the meat of that sandwich. Rose was suitable impressed with the snow, I was impressed that the flakes were so large and so many were disrespecting gravity like a teen disrespects anyone in authority (could gravity really be considered an authority? Could you just ignore it? I found out this week (Astronomycast –a podcast) that not only does the gravity of the moon pulling on earth make the seas rise as it spins around us - hence tides, but it also make the ground beneath our feet raise by 30cm! (12inches) (I’m also being a little disingenuous to teens and I’d like to point out that I do not read the Daily Mail or buy into the common consensus that “the youth of today are so much worse…blah blah blah” – it was just used for comedic effect, though the longer I explain it the more I think I am just squeezing any slight hint of funny there may have been)

Where am I? So Lindsay Rosemary and I are on our way round to Stubb n Beck’s. The roads and gardens are now just wet, the snow didn’t take and disappeared as fast as it arrived. That’s it, our British winter, over and done with in the space of 5 hours. Kinda like our summer these days….

We arrive at 11am. I am handed a gratefully received cuppa black joe from Becks and then Stubb whisks me away to pick up Spoon. I think we are heading over to his ma’s place in Blake’s Avenue (Witney) but we drive over to the other side of Oxford and pick him up from there! By the time we got back there was a whole party underway, Rose was starving/tired and Lindsay was about to take her back to my folks. I stayed behind for the easter-egg hunt.

First up were the little kids, who all made out like bandits, then it was the big kids (and no, I’m not referring to the adults here), the highlight of which was Sara throwing an egg for the kidders to catch and it totally twonking her son on the head! Good aim?

I had a good chat with a blast from the past and all round nice guy Matty Jackson (I’m sure he probably goes by the name Matt or Mathew by now but he’ll always be Matty to me, to Spoon on the otherhand (who won’t reply to the 541 due to it feeling like having an essay to hand in for a deadline) “Aren’t you Miles’ brother?”. I had a chat with Ruth’s boyfriend Gareth who was pretty cool but not looking forward to the trip back to Swansea later that day (they’d both left the night before, having cleaned the cat-litter left all the food and instructions out for Gareths brother to come round and feed their beloved moggie, only to forget to leave the bro the keys to get in – DOH!)

Stubb and Beck’s youngest (a 2 1/2yr old boy) was playing war with Spoon and I. I have to say he doesn’t just die when he gets shot. He DDDDDDDDDIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEES (all in slow motion). Classic! I was a little hosed at this point so had no trouble doing proper gun sound effects.

So the sun is now well and truly out, it’s nice and warm when you are basking in its glory, but decidedly nippy when in the shade.

Stubb got Beck and her friends out and said “You guys are always the ones working at our get-togethers and to say thank-you, YOU have an Easter-egg hunt now.” There were some sphincters winking when Becks, who had the “right” egg in her hand offered it to Ruth (I think) who hadn’t found one yet. It was like there was an inaudible yet loud “NO!” from the gathered onlookers.

Finally all the girls gathered together in the garden and opened their eggs, when Becks opened hers I think she said “oh no!”. Then Stubb grabbed the ring box, got down on one knee and asked “Will you marry me?” to which she replied “’course I will”. There was a hug, a kiss and applause and cheers n’ tears all round. It was almost as if everyone in the garden did a high-five with their spirit-beings. I felt most uplifted.

Becks, as the champagne was being poured started turning to people and saying “Did you know?” “Did you know?” the best reply was from Andy, I think his name was. “I was told but I forgot. It was only when you started the easter-egg hunt that I remembered.”

The party atmosphere really started to ramp up just as the guilt started to set in. A seesaw waggling in my head:

A good mate proposes vs family easter at the folks.

I think if Rose and Lindsay were still at the party the seesaw would have weighted its fulcrum over the “good mate” side.

Back at the folks it was great to see my nephew and niece who answered the door and then proceeded to use me as an adventure playground, they were doing flips by climbing up my body, being astronauts by lying on my shins while I lay on my back moving them forward and back, side to side. Who needs a gym?

I slurred my way through the retelling of the proposal to my mum, Auntie Jen, Louise and Lindsay and when Dad and Mark came home from the club we all sat down for a bumper easter dinner.

Was I lucky to have two bumper celebrations on one day? How great was it that Stubb picked the 23^rd ?(and had no idea)

I would like to also say congrats to Mark Thomas, I had no idea he wrote the music and lyric to the “Shaun The Sheep” theme tune. Plus there was something else that I don’t really think it is my place to divulge.

On Easter Friday we went to Eleanor and Edward’s house for an NCT (National Childbirth Trust) meet-up. Our Ante-natal group we have known since before Rosemary was born (which you may have guessed from the start of this sentence) and have seen all our respective children at various points over the past 18 months. It was great to get together, see all the kidders play and talk over what it’s like to be a father with the other dads.

I have to say Yogi, Kiran and son are probably the most beautiful looking family in Reading. I’m not just saying that because he complimented me on the 541 either.

We helped Neda, our next door neighbour and many of her friends and family celebrate the Baha’i New Year on Thursday this week, great food, great people, great chats. I chatted to one guy who was a DJ but at the start of the conversation there was a nice verbal rally. He was a bit of a joker and was pulling Drew’s leg but drawing me into the light-hearted ribbing. I haven’t had such fun in a banter-y kinda way for a long time. For example:

DJ “living next door to him, is he always bothering you with his leather thong”

Me “It’s not the thong that bothers me so much, it’s the bikini”

DJ “Tell me you don’t have any animals though, you’ve heard what he does with them?”

Me “Yeah, we’ve got a cat but he’s got no tail so that renders it impossible”

Sometimes it’s great to talk nonsense (yeah, I know, I write nonsense every week).

Props:

Not only does she give birth to the boy who invented the term Flooft, she also has these little gems, let’s give it up for my cousin Cath;

“We also refer to floofs as “Barking Spiders” as in “Did you hear those Barking Spiders”. Especially remarkable floofs are sometimes “Rare Texas Barking Spiders”.”

Sorry that “The Secret” seems to be working in the opposite direction for you. I’ll try and listen to the audiobook of it and give you some pointers. I have to say though your car looked trashed, was it written off?

Paula Bergen had some great parenting tips;

[her daughter] “came home very upset one day. I asked “What happened?” A boy at school pushed her out of the way to reach the last piece of purple paper to colour on. Instead of pushing him back, she leaned across and she took the last one before he could get his hands on it! I shook her hand and told her I was proud of her. I was so happy that she didn’t hit/push back.
I always ask “What did you do to him/her first?”. I will never assume she is in the right…2 sides to every story and I keep that in mind. I don’t want to be one of those parents who assumes their child is always right/perfect.”

Neil Lutton thought I needed my head read, or that he was “Hammerd”. Turned out the latter was the case.

Stubb, I’m sorry you had to spell it out to me why I had to be there on Sunday and risk blowing the gig.

Dominique Delaney hasn’t had a great deal of success tracking down Wayland Smithy in JD Wetherspoons pubs. Major props for trying tho Dom and your sister Marianna. Also she wants us to try and help Jonty get on upstaged??? http://upstaged.external.bbc.co.uk/Jonty+Stern

Andrew Bruce told how his son “at the ripe old age of 3 and 1/2 months has moved into his own room and out of the bassinette in our room. The transition for my wife wasn’t as smooth as I’d have liked, she had the monitor on so loud that you could hear him breathing like some cute Lord Vader all night. His toots sounded like sonic booms…”

I got a reply that wasn’t an out of office autoreply from the one, the only, the carpet-meister Mr Gary Blake. Parp Parp backatcha, welcome aboard!

The widow of my Obi-Wan-Kenobi (Chris Moss) Jill replied this week and blew me away! I seriously didn’t think the 541s were getting thru. Yes, name a time and a date and me n the girls are there!

Two replies were lost in my hotmail account (please use 5014mack@gmail.com for any email replies, it’s easy to remember, 501 replies for(4) Mack.

One from Auntie Jeanne, yes the Dunkin Donuts coffee was amazing as were the reese’s buttercups. The other from my mum who thanked Olivia for the birthday wishes, and told of blossoms on Burford Road.

Konrad gave me his quote of the week:

“Quote of the week.  “If everything seems in control – your not going fast enough” (Mario Andretti)”

And having sent ten 541s to the wrong email account (old happyapples rather than new happyapple) I finally got a bumper reply from the infamous Matt Appleton. I knew there must have been something wrong for him to not have replied (and nobody tell him he was named and shamed in 541 501 06 okay?). I texted him and got his latest email, sent 541 501 11 and BOOM! Bumper reply, which included:

“Now, you may well be proud as proud can be of your little one, but imagine what it feels like to talk to Rosemary in 17 years time and find out what a friend and inspiration and unconditionally-loving daughter you have helped nurture into adulthood.” Wow!

Thanks to Cousin Cath, Yogi, Mark Thomas, my former Padawan Colin, Mark Locke, Jeanne Dempsey and Konrad Bergen. for their supportive sentiments when I turned into a painful Klingon. Thanks to Konrad especially who turned into my own personal Shaman telling me exactly what medications I should take and Jeanne for informing me that the liquids I should be imbibing should not be alcoholic.

Name and Shame Time:

The following person got puffed out walking to the top of Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh and he calls himself a mountain climber! Paul Dywelska. I know you are getting these mate, I got an out of office autoreply from ya – Busted! Reply needed pronto!

The following people thought “Spice Girls the Movie” should’ve won an oscar.

Sarah Oakwood (and yet her husband is so prolific!)

Helena Smart

Lucy Allen (my own cousin, eh? Still not one reply tut tut!)

Seb Morris (who I passed (both him and his VW Beetle) on Burford Road while Stubb and I went to pick up Spoon on Sunday – I purposely ignored him. He didn’t notice. If I still don’t get a reply from him then next time I’m sticking my whole body out of the window and still ignoring him!)

The following people will stand in a line for the check out, watch as all their groceries get scanned, and are suddenly surprised when they realise they actually have to pay for these items!

Spoon

Adrian Randall

The following people love Brussels sprouts.

Marie Kusek

Amy Molnar

The following person loves “Fog on the Tyne” (by Lindisfarne, not them and Gazza):

Richard Warner

The following person may be such great outdoorsmen that their hands are just claws and they can’t type:

Mark Downey

The following person probably thinks modern commercial vehicles are far more aesthetic:

Dave Russel

The following people flooft a lot,

Gonzo

Neda

Can I really shame a sister that sent some lovely photos and two beautiful dresses for Rosemary? (Thank-you so much)

Yes! Burn those bridges, even family don’t get a free ride on the 541. Mary Van Der Beek, all you needed to do was to put 541 somewhere in the package and it would have been the third snail mail reply, but you deny!

Once again congrats to the lovebirds Stubb n Becks. This 541 is dedicated to you. I wish you all the happiness and many many more years of fun.

354 to go!

Have a great weekend y’all, back Tuesday (at the latest)

The Daddy Mack