Phew! just done 5 laps of the boat deck. gentle stroll up to the sharp end and back. time to open the crews bar.
Tannoy: now hear this< Crew bar now open!

5 laps? What a hero and an example to us all. 5 Laps is the equivalent of a teaspoonful of rum or an eggcup full of beer.
You lazy bugger, go and mow the lawn like some of your shipmates and enjoy a well earned pint.

First time in two or so years I have done all the grass without my knees being overly-generous of gyp. Pity it's not busy with the usual suspects sipping, swearing and malletting (how will the horseflies survive without them?)

If you would remove the cow-pats and horse-pats and all other faecal matter the horseflies, clegs in these parts, will tootle off to the neighbours. And Lady Cynthia can sip and swear to her hearts content.

I do not have those. What I do have is McDonalds and have long suspected their produce and the unbagged dog mess (perhaps preferable to my opinion of it which you have accurately described) as the causes. With that source of sustenance denied them the question is will there be more looking to feed off me or will they move on to pasture viler?

(Lady C will be most welcome when unlockup comes. Is she also from enemy occupied Hibernia?)

I feel a need to bathe my mouth in some alcohol, I have just seen the mower! I may get it out, but the Cowslips, Speedwells, violets, bluebells, forget -me-nots and Fox-and-cubs leave me with little space. Somewhere to put a chair under the Bamboo, Roses and Apple-tree is most of what is needed.

Injuneers don't grow flowers we grows weeds, no maintenance required...simples

Did somebody mention the bar was open? An enterprising chap here in Belfast since his bar was forcibly closed by the "thought police" started a door to door delivery service of pints etc. All was well until the rozzers got wind of the enterprise and shut it down. He is now facing prosecution for breach of the licensing laws.... Big Brother is alive and well in Norn Iron. :really_mad::really_mad::really_mad:

I am not sure what law would be being broken. Not sure now or in Hibernia but when I were a lad alcohol delivered by a licensed victualler (most grocers) was not otherwise regulated and most publicans also did off-licence. I think Bushy's is offering just that service by the polypin - with only me locked down here that would be rather too much (especially as my weight seems obligingly on the down at the moment). As a 12 year old my case of Mackeson arrived on a Saturday morning from Cullens along with Pa's crate of Whitbread pale ale.

This explains a lot and is a strong indicator that deep and intense councilling is required.
Once the authorities become aware of this state of affairs you will be taken into care, your stomach pumped and you put on a nice barley water diet. You may be given scrambled eggs and toast in week 2.

Good luck.

In those same days the aged Ps could rely on me being dried out at school (well until mid teens anyway. A faulty latch allowed ingress and egress and it was tacitly agreed which bars were for boys and which for staff. Also the little earner of babysitting might be accompanied by a small sherry).

Scrambled egg on toast is no punishment - except when taken ambitiously on one new year's morning - four finger spread decorated the stairwell. Just about got it cleared up before Ma caught me. Such episodes thankfully were and remain few and far between. But telling. As when discovering my waste paper bin was not 'weatherproof'.

Yawn....Bored now. need to liven things up a bit.
Tannoy: attention all Engineers. Free bar in the pax lounge bar for you Gents and hosifers. Deckies continue chipping and painting.

And if the Deck Cadets find Rigel or Sirius hiding around No2 hatch coaming they are to give them a double coat of red lead.

Have the Grocer lay down newspapers on the deck to soak up the lub oil from the black gang's dungarees, and protect the carpet. Prejudices must be protected in these troubled times.

Not sure I agree, that Rigel and his 'friend' have not paid one round that I remember. If they are allowed to welch yet again it should be tar and feathers.

Well. that's my nails done, I feel ready for anything (almost).

I am getting used to swinging at anchor.

Adults can of course Swing, but I would suggest doing it on the Fore Castle could be cold and damp.

I suggested to the, game I thought, lady organisers of a Teapot Trust Tea and Swing 'do' (sadly corvid-cancelled of course) that the Island may not be entirely ready for that degree of liberation but that I would do my best to rustle up some interested donors.

I was surprised to find out they meant a 'thé dansant' with which, I fancy, much of the Island demographic might find 'in tune' if not passé. As for the cold and damp. we usually have that in spades too just not last week.

Keep faith with the Earl Grey and chocolate digestives, the Matrons of Mona are far from broadminded.

Typhoo with oatmeal biscuits for me.

Cocoa made with conny-onny, a stout belt of rum and a marshmallow dipped in it.

I threw up.

Nice cold water with a Bath Oliver.

My preference is Sincha. But if there is rum going I could be made to forego the tea when yard is over forearm or whatever. As for cocoa that is another preschool memory we were supposed to be grateful for the vile muck that purported to be cocoa. For instance it was served to finish of Guy Fawkes night. The gym, where any such night time musters were held had a piano and this was a convenient if risky repository for getting rid of it.

Oh Rum with everything dear chap. Drop of Nelsons blood goes down well.

Forget Nelson, he's only a tourist attraction putting coin of the realm into Portsmouth's piggy bank.
Rum with everything is the sort of vintage thinking that is not appropriate on this ship.
Stop.

Start: this ship has navigated some never before been navigated seas with great success thanks to Tom and his Four Bell's so I am afraid Rum is in fact an important part of this fine ship. Although MY personal preference is for a 12 year old Malt, Mr Varley prefers a very rare vintage Port (with a fine cigar) and Tmac of course love a fine Black bush. we all have our differences you see......Cheers!

Thank heavens they didn't pickle him in whisk(e)y. There'd have been nothing left of him to process to St Paul's and the coffinmakers would have had trouble keeping it glued and varnished had they simply sieved the barrel into the casket.

(By the by. Tawny not vintage. Prefer the style. And the price).

Oh, the impoverished gentry.
Shock, horror, Lord V keeps his Weetabix in a Tupperware box!

He is in good company her Maj keeps her Cornflakes in one as well :supercool:

I don't need fancy Tupperware boxes, I is a poor injuneer so can't afford Cornflakes or Weetabix :yawn:

Indeed she does, but there again some people know the internal workings of Buck House better than me.
However Chez Serang dosent need Tupperware as the pantry is neither cold or damp. The IOM GB has only two seasons, Damp and July.

Love it, LOVE IT.... who says the Irish don't have a sense of humour :jester::jester::jester:

P.S. You get lovely tea and buns in Buck House as well and not a Tupperware plate in sight

Punjana and a Paris Bun, you couldnae bate it.

I must attempt a seance with my Belfast Granny. Do You Speeka da Eenglish? If you understand, nod your head and I will hit it. With great pleasure.

Gayus hied piece, no need to disturb Granny Farmer as only Mr T and masel spake Norn Irn.

My Sovereign's choice of bowel grip is not mine. My Tupperware has no-added-sugar-salt muesli and another with oat bran (also others for cat biscuit and chicken treats). I have it in the morning while feeding the cats and follow it with the daily pills and fruit. None of this counts as breakfast which is something to be relished rather than being a regular comfort.

Tomorrow! Well, Sunday as it is now 0025z, tomorrow I am going to have bacon, sausage, egg and mushrooms. Read and weep. (First time since January. No game of GO tomorrow)

Sounds like Red Rum's diet. When walking to town to get the morning paper do you feel the urge to break into a canter or jump the neighbours fence.

It is a successful diet for creating an urge of a morning. However the direction of said urge precludes any long walk until it has been sated.

I know the British are obsessed with the need for regularity but I thought an offshore island would have a more enlightened, Hibernio, attitude. Alas no. Keep straining and applying Preperation V.

You conflate enlightenment with anal retention. It is the straining that did for the last Henry. Presumably the last Richard played a looser game.

Anal retention!...more like Eye of the needle here. Must be the heatwave melting me.

better since the packet of Bisto. (browns, thickens and seasons)

I have a friend (well she was until I told her during Zoomtails the world would have better things to put right after covid19 than provide schools for ignorant tarts - we agree on the population being too high but her remedy is fanciful). She rails against a Sunday carvery because the gravy is 'generic'. Now I know why. I hope you take the 'seasons' as a given. Colour and viscosity can be determined by less intimate observation.

I really miss English carvery meals. Hope to visit the UK again one day.