Enough to make you weep or not

Hi everyone, long time no blog. Sometimes life gets in the way of this joyful pastime of writing strange things about strange topics.

Mainly I’ve been trying to get ‘the Book’ published. I know some of you would have found this site via the book and that others found us by accident. The book is titled ‘Alan’s oh so simple Cheesecakes.’ Can you guess what it’s about?

Originally, I had no idea what to write about until someone suggested the above. I’ve been making cheesecakes for fun for a long while (I tell the tale in the book) and messed about writing a very little bit here and even less there, and had some encouraging comments from friends and family, so continued. So, after about twelve months we had our major life changing moment with the passing of Lyn. In her memory I completed the book, had it made as a proper job and had 100 copies printed. With people, friends and family buying the book I have been looking to increase the sales and hopeful make enough to do a special book aimed at raising money for charity, hence the search for a publisher. Another day another blog.

To maybe WEEP

Back to today with a slightly different but in a nice way, topic. You’re all going to say the obvious things, birth of the first child. I sobbed me heart out at 4.00 am to me mum when my first daughter was born – spooky – she was born on the 15th of April at around 2.45 and, with our surname, the link to the titanic is indisputable. The remaining children were sobbed after but not to the same degree. The day Lyn said yes even though we were married elsewhere. The night Lyn passed unbelievable grief and loss.

But these sorts of things affect almost every one at some time or other. There are things out of the ordinary day to day experience can make you weep, make you smile or simply make the hairs on the back of your neck stretch to reach the sun.

SMILE and gasp a bit

My end of driving day was an occasion which in its own way provoked a wry smile thinking, how did I get away with all those possible speeding tickets, and a 15year plus ‘no claims’ record, but not enough to cause weeping or h o t b o t n r. (work it out).

Nor is watching the practitioners of the two jobs you most wanted to do in the world. I don’t know about you, but I greatly admire precision and timing – the very two things I ain’t, precise and synchronised.

The first of these two h o t b o t n occupations is being one of the guys on an American aircraft carrier who are on the flight deck, dancing and whirling, making rude gestures at the pilots up to the moment they sink on one knee and tell the aviator to get off his boat by swinging his arm in tight circles and then making a symbolic throwaway gesture showing the pilot which direction he has to go. The whole thing is so theatrical even down to the mood lighting, usually the sun going down. The swirling mists, in which you have to hide to avoid getting knocked over by aeroplanes, ropes, chains and other devotees, until you emerge safe to perform the whole ritual again, confirming that the hours of dance practise have not been wasted. I admire these unsung heroes for their elegant moves and fleetness of foot in avoiding the aircraft that also want to play on the deck. We only ever had barbeques on our deck (silly play on words).

So, to the number one most exciting, precise and synchronised job in the whole world, created in the land of high octane fuel, smell of burning rubber, colossal number of decibels, and computer driven toys to satisfy the most enthusiastic nerd.

The practitioners of this most holy of secret arts stay in the background, only emerging when the PB calls for practise after practise after practise after practise (fed up yet?) after practise in the performance of this recent force de majeure. Exponents of this superb spectacle live lives of self-imposed chastity, in order not to sap strength, resolve, do not partake of beverages capable of destroying resolve, maintain stamina by eating only foods blessed the founder of the GAs (the clues are all there). (By the by, you will understand that this is all rubbish but good fun I hope)

Their sacred art is undertaken with another ten disciples with whom they share a monastic existence, offering their prayers to the god of non-slip gloves and clean visors and for trust in their fellows. These pure and chaste (or is it chased) hombres reduce the strenuous training into a few curt but accurate words as an example: V stop – Up – Off – On -Down – V Gone (or is it vegan?).

These minor gods (you’re over the top now Alan) or better known as mechanics and apprentices, are the exponents of the ancient art of changing tyres on F1 MOTOR RACING CARS. These talented people have and take part frequently in changing tyres off some of the fastest cars in the fastest races in the world. In these competitions time lost could be crucial to the final outcome and cost megabucks. So much pressure is on this gallant set of 11 players (remember it’s NOT FOOTBALL – the F1 should have given it away) to perform, that only time can tell you how long the craftsmen labour at their task.

Task schedule:

Vehicle stop – jack vehicle up – wheel nuts off - tyres and rims of – new tyres and rims on – wheel nuts on - vehicle down – vehicle gone.

And how long does this much practiced, essential and most times necessary task take?

2.5 seconds

(check it out on google)

Anybody out there offer me a chance to watch this contact me on the website – PLEASE!!! – I’ll do anything, make tea, buy sandwiches, make cheesecakes polish shoes, clean windscreens, be a general odd job man, anything just let me start tomorrow’