tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-132467082008-07-14T23:14:33.052+01:00Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comBlogger134125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1149553364063928842009-12-31T00:07:00.000Z2008-07-14T23:14:33.087+01:00

Don’t panic! You haven’t been in an accident, fallen into a coma and then travelled through time. This is just a post-dated post to keep it at the top of the page. Having been out to grass for a few months now, the penny has finally dropped: Knoll building isn’t very exciting; whereas embroidery is full of thrills, spills and endless possibilities. While I try to get my (non-profit) pattern

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-70703032416359251962008-07-13T00:07:00.001+01:002008-07-14T23:13:31.842+01:00

Years of nurturing. Molly-coddling, research, trial and error and heartache has finally left you with a prize winning effort. Something you’d be proud to have judged by a retired chap with a handlebar moustache at the local fete. Every day you go out to work and most of your colleagues are unaware of the dirty little secret you’ve got hidden away in your back garden. Maybe it’s an elephantine

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-42642204866774964062007-04-29T00:07:00.000+01:002007-04-28T22:22:22.953+01:00

It’s always a good icebreaker. A list that is. I think I need one as it’s so long since we’ve chatted properly and some of you seem to have got here via a certain naughty book, without a clue about what to expect. All I can say is that you shouldn’t take anything here seriously. No one else takes me seriously so there shouldn’t be any reason for you to buck the trend. Despite the best efforts

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1167522923889379982006-12-31T00:07:00.000Z2006-12-31T00:09:43.196Z

I felt like a burglar. Sneaking through the door in the early hours of the morning, after another busy shift of relationship counselling and meeting future members of Alcoholics Anonymous. My bitch seemed strangely subdued, that might have something to do with the large box in the hall. The one that said “Chainsaw” on the side. Now, I like to think I’m a pretty observant kinda guy, I can

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1156804763198248372006-08-28T00:07:00.000+01:002006-08-28T23:39:23.263+01:00

Pretty paint colours are all well and good. But is it enough for the twenty first century arrestee? I think not. Some may say that we already pander to their every whim with Ooman Rights, uppers, downers and nicotine gum being as freely dispensed as a clip round the ear was in days gone by. Yet, I can’t help feeling that we’re not doing all that we can for the little treasures. It’s not like

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1156111824809750232006-08-20T00:07:00.000+01:002006-08-20T23:15:11.453+01:00

It’s not big and it’s not clever. You know who you are. I cannot believe the waves of negativity I feel in the canteen every month when the new edition of the award winning magazine The Sharp End hits the specially constructed and taxpayer funded holders. There are more scoffs and howls of derision than you get at an average Prime Minister’s question time. One day I fear someone is going to

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1155425942025848692006-08-13T00:07:00.000+01:002006-08-16T03:17:45.186+01:00

Nodded off yet? No? I’ll continue then: After the initial excitement of using my investigative powers to add to the statistics had worn off, we settled down into an unfamiliar routine. In normal circumstances we’d be going from one call to the next making copious notes and avoiding contact with bodily fluids. Instead we got to trawl around looking for naughty people doing naughty things.

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1154295831866429632006-07-30T00:07:00.000+01:002006-07-30T22:43:51.910+01:00

I have been inundated. By an e-mail. It seems that the various satellite channels full of reality Police programmes aren’t enough for everyone. Well, at least not for an apparent insomniac from Tonbridge Wells anyway. He would like nothing better than to read about the thrills and spills of modern day policing to help him get off at night. Even in my pre-gardening days I tend not to write

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1153099151333423512006-07-17T00:07:00.000+01:002006-07-17T02:19:11.366+01:00

At least they were very polite. Although it wasn’t mentioned; I’m pretty certain the admissions in my covering letter may have tipped the scales against me. Next time I’ll tell them I like my lager shaken, not stirred and I’ll take the chance that there won’t be a skiing test at the interview. So, the successful applicants may now be traveling the globe by submarine/private jet/hot air balloon

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1152632163236331232006-07-11T00:07:00.000+01:002006-07-11T16:36:03.273+01:00

Before I’d be let loose with my licence to kill. I suspect that they might do some basic checks on me. Like whether or not I have any form for leaving material marked ‘Top Secret’ in a pub, on a train, in a ditch or on the back seat of a taxi. I should be pretty safe with this one. The closest I’ve ever got to ‘Top Secret’ information was having a source on the canteen staff who always gave me

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1152236995606310632006-07-07T00:07:00.000+01:002006-07-07T02:49:55.656+01:00

Yes, yes I know. It’s not strictly true anymore. Somewhere along the line we seem to have painted ourselves into a bit of a grey area; albeit a grey area that was slowly turning more black and white as the days passed. Now we’re back in the corner with a thick fog obscuring the route out. Just who are we supposed to be protecting and from who or what? Oh, that’s right, I remember now. We’re

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1148773242933592212006-05-26T00:06:00.000+01:002006-05-28T00:52:26.053+01:00

Yippee-ki-ay muthanature! Well, that's what would have happened had it not been for a small oversight on my part. As with a lot of people who find themselves in a desperate situation I too found myself increasingly drawn towards a chemical solution. Extensive internet research pointed me in the direction of a very potent cure-all for eliminating pesky critters. That’s right; Agent Orange.

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1142391938008405342006-03-09T00:07:00.000Z2006-03-15T03:11:03.160Z

Sometimes the obvious solution isn’t. Obvious, I mean. In times of crisis it’s nice to know that there is always someone there for you. Even though Mrs Brian with her disdainful looks and pithy comments weren’t readily available; there is always another option. In my case I turned to the internet and Yell.com. They may have been having an off day recently but, it’s hard to miss their

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1142215983589940702006-03-07T00:07:00.000Z2006-03-13T02:13:03.853Z

Much like one of those punchbags for kids. There was a slight sway and then my chosen target righted itself with one leaf looking a bit worse for wear. No problem; I have the genes for this and made some corrections to my backswing. A flex of the knees, hips pointing at the target, head down and fast acceleration through the turn. David Leadbetter might have had some disapproving words as I

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1141694882240000242006-03-02T00:07:00.000Z2006-03-07T12:40:57.203Z

Unfortunately the snow didn’t venture this far south. Which left me fresh out of site clearance excuses. As I have previously mentioned: I should be in possession of the DNA footprint required for gardening. If not the tools. I have no idea what happened to Granddad Brian’s (RIP) horticultural implements when he left us for the cabbage patch in the sky. He bequeathed me a fruit bowl. It’s a

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1141517548700298462006-02-28T00:07:00.001Z2006-03-05T00:14:57.730Z

“Whaddya want?” “Oh, hello is that Customer Service?” “Last time I checked.” He sounded like he had been having a bad day. Best I keep it brief and to the point so he can get back to tossing fragile parcels around the office to keep his spirits up. “I wondered if you could explain Division 6.2 of the 2005-2006 Edition Technical Instructions for the Safe Transport of Dangerous Goods to me?” “

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1141141339138098142006-02-23T00:07:00.000Z2006-02-28T15:42:19.200Z

Standby, I'm on the phone.....

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1140488307583924022006-02-21T00:07:00.000Z2006-02-21T02:18:27.643Z

“Hello, Leafy Suburb one two one two.” “C-c-can I speak to B-Brian please?” He sounds nervous, maybe some joker has placed my number in the ‘Adult’ section of the local paper. I put on my most manly voice. “This is Brian, what can I do for you?” “It’s m-m-more what I c-c-can d-do for you.” Uh-oh, there was me thinking all of the double glazing companies were boycotting me following the

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1140107029462969272006-02-16T00:07:00.000Z2006-02-16T16:23:49.556Z

With shared access issues to consider. Not to mention the space problem; exacerbated by the recent neighbourly erections of barbed and electrified fences. Together with a recent, top-secret government decision; I have a fruitless morning of telephone conversations. The very nice people at 118 insisted on continually putting me straight through to either a locksmith or plumber for some reason.

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1139853622770938742006-02-14T00:07:00.000Z2006-02-14T00:23:53.996Z

While Andy’s hero checked his Traser for the umpteenth time; I must have drifted off. Playtime over then is it? Oh well…. Zzzz zzzz zzzz Zzzz zzzz zzzz What was that? OI! WAKE UP!! “Wh....what?” Oh, false alarm. It was just a bit of wind. “Was that you?” You’re a fine one to talk. Besides, it’s your fault for giving me that dodgy treat earlier. You know salt doesn’t agree with me. Zzzz

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1139584054359716012006-02-09T00:07:00.000Z2006-02-10T15:08:18.173Z

Nothing. Not a sausage. I scoured the rolling media channels, in vain, for news of a Super-tanker running aground in the Leafy Suburb lido to explain the delay. Leaving me with the conclusion that Kay wasn’t taking her job too seriously. Either that or she was chained to her desk compiling important government statistics. Time to take matters into my own hands. No more Mr Nice Guy. I hatch a

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1139287286664950032006-02-07T00:07:00.000Z2006-02-07T04:41:26.666Z

Granddad Brian (RIP) was keen gardener. He liked nothing better than to work up a sweat pottering in his vegetable patch. Sadly, the current weather isn’t set for mopping ones brow while leaning contently on a pitchfork. Not to be deterred, I wrap up well and venture outside with my bitch for a site survey. To be honest I did try this from inside first, but the American garden design software I

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1139099562855859832006-02-05T00:07:00.000Z2006-02-07T04:37:33.610Z

A reader of these pages has brought to my attention that an officer well known across the northern half of the metropolis has recently passed away after a long illness. P.C. Sharon Edwards will be fondly remembered and missed by many officers and staff alike.

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1139011298657797752006-02-02T00:07:00.000Z2006-02-04T01:17:01.313Z

When I was younger; I can remember visiting the funfair. One of the attractions that kept me busy for at least five minutes was the “Hall of Mirrors”. Standing in front of a series of cleverly curved and shiny surfaces always produced some pointing and laughing. My youthful ignorance is the only reason I can explain why I laughed when I pointed at myself looking very fat, painfully thin, tiny

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13246708.post-1138494348191646652006-01-29T00:07:00.000Z2006-01-29T00:25:48.680Z

I need to get this one right. No room for any errors; I’ll need to make sure I have all of the required permissions. We may have moved on from the permissive society but, I don’t think I should have too many problems. It can’t be that difficult; can it? What I need is an expert. “Hello, Leafy Suburb planning department. Zoe speaking; how can I help you?” Less than four rings to answer, they’

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05047542325787129563noreply@blogger.com