IS IT A BIRD?

Or is it a mutant killer flying machine from the planet Birdos Horriablis?
...........Let me set the scene in this unforeseen chiller that unfolded last Thursday in a Victorian House in Oxton.....
A woman, alone, taking a little late lunch returns home to the safety of her own house. She goes in, walks through to the kitchen, just as she has done hundreds of times before. With the remains of a tasty American bread based snack in her hand, she decides that she will switch the radiogram on. Everything as usual, as normal, until she hears a strange noise from above. She gets an unnerving suspicion that she is being watched..........
When she looks up above her eye line, there it is. A huge, evil, demonic overweight, (and slightly blackened by its chimney descent) pigeon quite possibly on steroids.
With an almighty scream, tossing the remains of her lunch over her shoulder, she bolts for the door. The crazed pigeon fluttering across the room in hot pursuit........(Well that's what she tell's me.) With the safety of the door behind her, she now gulps for air, in a semi asthmatic state.

So in her hour of utter need who can Jen turn to help for.......? Her fiance...of course....but he is on a range of hills in Snowdonia......Her Mum.....Her Auntie........No use. Her Sister......Anyone!

The sound of smashing beer bottles and the flying of dirty Pigeon feathers fills the air.....But wait...

There is one last hope...

If you've got a problem ....

And nobody else can help........

And if you can find him....

Maybe you can hire........

PIGEON BOY

No sooner had he been called, than he arrived and sprung into bird fighting action.

Some say he is the nemesis of all fighting animals.....

Others say that no mortal man should mock his long shoes and small feet.

But most would undoubtedly not question his steely nerve.......

Well please allow me to paint the picture......

Having summoned up the courage to tackle the winged invader, which according to Bird Boy was the size of a hefty goat, when it puffed it's chest out, and that in itself was a brave move when all is considered, he ordered the now trembling Rookie to stand guard by the door, leaving a clear escape route if the bird should turn bad......

He then donned his armour.......A woven pink plastic wash basket, which was worn over the entire top half of the body, and clutching a household broom, to steer the bird out of the back door.

A tremendous battle ensued, with vicious broom waving, falling bottles, pigeon poo descending to the kitchen floor, and screams from both Bird Boy and Rookie.

Bird Boys obvious fear was of the sneaky pigeon flying up under the protective basket and going for the eyes.........

After some fifteen minutes, Bird Boy reigned triumphant, and jumping up and down celebrations followed for some time.

A true hero.

A big thanks from me.

and if you should need him.........just call like a pigeaon....coo coooooooooo....

GOOD WORK FELLA

I'm Getting Married In The Morning.....Well June actually

I have come to a carefully considered opinion, and it is this. Whatever job you are doing, stop it and go and do something in the Wedding Industry. This is without doubt the biggest money making operation in the world....neigh Universe. (I actually think that some day very soon, you could pay enough money to have an outer space wedding). I think that we cud have paid for a small space shuttle up unto this point ourselves.......

Anyhow, that's my bitching over with...I will probably be scowled at for uttering such manly thoughts. Living life in the dangerous lane indeed.

Didn't realise how much there was to do really, although I do have one of the world's most organised fiances. She has been responsible for the majority of the wedding bookings thus far.....Which is fine. She has very good taste. Needless to say she is marrying me!

But it is a jolly exciting time for us both and unbelievably it is creeping up on us with great speed.

Only got cakes, cars ,suits and flowers to box off now, so all in all everything is looking ship shape and Bristol fashion.

This is the venue for the reception. Nice little gaff if I do say so myself. Thornton Manor.......how very luverly.

And then there is the honeymoon. Jen has no idea where she is going.....I will give her a clue..it's not on the Wirral. There, that will narrow it down. No she does know that she has to have some injections before we go, but they do say it is very rough and dangerous in Ryhl nowadays.

The Best Man has very gallantly offered to grow his hair "to an acceptable length".....which I think is a jolly nice notion, not that he doesn't look suave and sophisticated at present. There is just a notion of a doorman about him that might frighten the ducks there. Only kidding Campbo. Honored that you accepted the gig. Here's hoping that we can stand upon a lofted balcony quaffing alcohol, overlooking a starry night.......Just like your evening do many moons ago.

Bridesmaids........Three is a nice number, even four would be really nice. Five might be stretching it a little. Six would be totally unacceptable....So Seven!!!!!! ok one of them is only half sized.....

But nevertheless, I have no idea where they are all going to fit in the church, or in the cars, or in the reception.....actually it shouldn't be a problem at the reception.

Well bring it all on I say. Can't wait.

P.S. Still not had a drink!

The Wagon Rolls On.......

Well for some of us it does anyway.

It was a blurry and slurred New Years Eve when an intrepid foursome decided and agreed to go on the wagon for the entire month of January.

Was this such a great idea I hear both you and me asking? Too be honest..I'm now not so sure. I can say that I am currently clinging on to the very back of the said wagon by my finger nails, my feet dragging well and truly in the land of alcoholic pleasure.

But, it's now only another week or so until I can say that I did it. Still an uphill challenge. Yes I feel better in myself, and yes I have been able to remember a whole bunch of stuff that in the later stages of last year I would have most definitely forgotten. You know like when you are upstairs in your own house and think, ooh I had better go downstairs and get that thing for work......but when you get there you have absolutely no idea what it is you went for. Sounds familiar?

I have to pay special credit to both my fiance and indeed Ali, our friend who joined me on my sober January crusade. Sterling effort guys! However, there is one more member of the afore mentioned group who spectacularly fell off the wagon last weekend. The cracks appeared from the outset, and it only took one very weak looking pint of Guinness to herald the speedy transition to quaffing large vodka's in the Hallowed realms of the Lord Raglan Public House.

BEWARE! This could happen to you too. I man out of all control. Mark in all fairness, I am truly and utterly green with envy at your withdrawal from the wagonesque world in which I still remain.
I cannot wait for that first pint.

POSH CAT

Horace.....Quite simply a posh cat.

We got Horace from the Freshfields Animal Rescue home near Southport when we moved into our house in November 2005.

Originally his name was "Pom", which I felt was far too soppy, and so duely named him after my late Grandfather.

Horace unfortunately has feline aids, so cannot venture outside the house. This does not seem to bother overduely, as all he does on the average day is eat and sleep.

And boy can this cat sleep.......In windows, on boxes, in tumble dryers, on top of clean washing, in the beds.....you name it he has kipped there.

When we asked wot he would be like, the staff at Freshfields told us he may scratch a tad. This was somewhat of an understatement. We did have a lovely brown leather three seater, but it now looks as though it was attacked by a machete weilding maniac.

Don't even get me started on what used to be the landing carpet. But, we wouldn't be without him now.......maybe his little claws could go, but he is a friendly little chap with a passion for head butting you. His latest trick is traversing the headboard between the hours of 2 and 5 am and trying to secure a sleeping area between me and Jen.

Our friends Mark and Ali say that if Horace could talk he would be the poshest cat ever, with a very upper class demur.

Long live the king of our little castle.

AHHHHHHHHH!

I am reliably informed that a picture of a baby is a surefire way of attracting the attention of other Bloggers,
So here she is. A real cute one.
My girlfriend loves this picture and goes all soft and gooey when she sees it.
One day....I know it's coming!

I'm a new BLOGGER!

Creation of a new blog...today...
IT IS THE FUTURE!

Or so I have been told by many far more intellectual types than myself which when all is said and done doesn't leave that many!

Why am I Blogging I hear you ask? Well up until a few weeks ago I would have most probably thought it was something to do with Phil Mitchell, from Eastenders and a van on Wansted Heath.
However I am reliably informed that is Dogging.....a mere slip of the tongue......Moving swiftly on.
A friend from work introduced me to the Blog world, and I thought that I should give it a go dragging myself into the Techno Age with a smile on my face and a happy disposition.
Of course since he showed me how to use it....I seem to have forgotten most of it already, so if you find yourself reading this, it truely is a small step for mankind.
Kev you know who you are........
So I will quit with the lengthy introduction and will of course welcome any comments or help.
I thank you.