I finally got back to Glasgow about 20 hours late, because French Air Traffic, in the form of Beauvais and Lille, decided to go on strike about 8pm on Thursday evening.
I had the option of a 6am departure to Dublin, followed by a 10am departure to Prestwick, a refund ( all of Eur 10) or the next Glasgow flight at 14:35 on Friday - which I took.
I know it wasn't Ryanair's fault, but I still blame them. Beauvais is almost entirely Ryanair - with a bit of Wizz and Blue Air thrown in, so in a sense the French were targetting Ryanair and its practices.
Mind you, this dominance has done wonders for Beauvais. When they first flew there the town was very much dead on it's feet - rather like Charleroi - but it is now definitely booming along with its rapidly expanding Zone Industriel.
I just had time once I got home to change for the party being held at Titwood Bowling Club, which went off really well, and where I was able to meet my blogging friend Brian Boru. He lives in Biarritz with children and now grandchildren around, and seems very much to prove the point that it's handy to be near the children.
The birthday boy - President of the Gentlemen Fishers of Pollokshields - had to undergo a great deal of ribaldry, as it's only in the last year or so that they have ever caught any fish, and it seemed unlikely for long periods that anything other that a good excuse for a party would be the outcome.
No matter. What did intrigue me though was the whispered comments I got from many present.
" That man behind you in the dark shirt - he's BNP!" which was repeated steadily throughout the night. I suppose in Scotland it's unusual enough to have this effect.
Just before leaving, I siddled up to him and asked why he wasn't wearing a Black Shirt....and rapidly did a disappearing act.
Showing posts with label party. Show all posts
Showing posts with label party. Show all posts
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
It was 40 years ago today....
The Great Brian Boru is berating me for not having posted recently. There is a perfectly ordinary explanation.
After the Irish left, I was almost immediately on my way out of the country to Romania.
Just so you know I got back yesterday in time to go to a dinner party.
And I'm back to Romania on Monday.
So I've had little time for anything much.
The dinner party for the Irish went what one could only describe as swimmingly - of the eleven present, 4 including myself were not drinking, but the remaining 7 got through 14 assorted bottles of fizz,red and white.
In fact, everyone had such a good time that we could only finally get to bed about 3am on Sunday.
The contingent from Germany have already sent us pictures - everything in beautiful order before, and complete detritus after.
For some reason they have also taken photos of the enormous breakfasts that were being served up.
Let me tell you a small story about my friend from 40 odd years ago.
The Earl of Kilkenny - for it is he - wondered at some point over the weekend where we had first met. I reminded him it was at a party in a side road off Kings road.
" Ah yes" he said, " I remember now. I was living round the corner and was walking home one night. The windows of Number 57 were wide open with music blaring. A young lady asked if myself and my companion ( a senior accountant with the Irish Tourist Board at the time) would care to come in. We declined. I dropped the man off home and made my way back to the party.
Some time later there were great hammerings at the door. An elderly man in pyjamas was standing there. One of the scantily clad young ladies asked him in and gave him a drink. (I hasten to add they were scantily dressed because it was the 60s and the mini was in - as well as see through tops). Some considerable time later there were more hammerings at the door.
By this time, you and I had met and were getting on famously shouting at each other above the noise. Each floor of the house was playing different music.
Anyway, the door was opened to reveal two policemen, who were also invited in by young ladies - and had drinks pressed on them. They were there, they said because an elderly man had been kidnapped. The policemen were taken to where he was and could see the report was not true.
Some more time passed, and the door reverberated once more. There stood an elderly lady in her dressing gown.
Now it so happened that it was myself that opened the door. I had great difficulty making out what she was trying to say - it may have been the drink fuddling me somewhat.
Anyway, she really really wanted her husband back. So we went in search of him, and there he was with the two policemen, all very tipsy and dancing with several mini skirted young ladies."
He paused.
" I think his evening came to an end about then."
You may ask how he is the Earl of Kilkenny, when no such title exists? Himself talks in a very aristocratic Irish brogue, which, when combined with the title, always ensures the best table, the best ticket and the best service imaginable....
After the Irish left, I was almost immediately on my way out of the country to Romania.
Just so you know I got back yesterday in time to go to a dinner party.
And I'm back to Romania on Monday.
So I've had little time for anything much.
The dinner party for the Irish went what one could only describe as swimmingly - of the eleven present, 4 including myself were not drinking, but the remaining 7 got through 14 assorted bottles of fizz,red and white.
In fact, everyone had such a good time that we could only finally get to bed about 3am on Sunday.
The contingent from Germany have already sent us pictures - everything in beautiful order before, and complete detritus after.
For some reason they have also taken photos of the enormous breakfasts that were being served up.
Let me tell you a small story about my friend from 40 odd years ago.
The Earl of Kilkenny - for it is he - wondered at some point over the weekend where we had first met. I reminded him it was at a party in a side road off Kings road.
" Ah yes" he said, " I remember now. I was living round the corner and was walking home one night. The windows of Number 57 were wide open with music blaring. A young lady asked if myself and my companion ( a senior accountant with the Irish Tourist Board at the time) would care to come in. We declined. I dropped the man off home and made my way back to the party.
Some time later there were great hammerings at the door. An elderly man in pyjamas was standing there. One of the scantily clad young ladies asked him in and gave him a drink. (I hasten to add they were scantily dressed because it was the 60s and the mini was in - as well as see through tops). Some considerable time later there were more hammerings at the door.
By this time, you and I had met and were getting on famously shouting at each other above the noise. Each floor of the house was playing different music.
Anyway, the door was opened to reveal two policemen, who were also invited in by young ladies - and had drinks pressed on them. They were there, they said because an elderly man had been kidnapped. The policemen were taken to where he was and could see the report was not true.
Some more time passed, and the door reverberated once more. There stood an elderly lady in her dressing gown.
Now it so happened that it was myself that opened the door. I had great difficulty making out what she was trying to say - it may have been the drink fuddling me somewhat.
Anyway, she really really wanted her husband back. So we went in search of him, and there he was with the two policemen, all very tipsy and dancing with several mini skirted young ladies."
He paused.
" I think his evening came to an end about then."
You may ask how he is the Earl of Kilkenny, when no such title exists? Himself talks in a very aristocratic Irish brogue, which, when combined with the title, always ensures the best table, the best ticket and the best service imaginable....
Saturday, April 18, 2009
The Irish are here!
One of the nicest aspects of having our (very) old Irish friends to stay is that a proper breakfast is required.
None of your cardboard muesli and yogurt muck - its black pudding, eggs, bacon, sausages,tomatoes and kidneys. And a loaf or two.
The main reason is they hardly eat anything during the day, until tea-time, when cakes are required with the several pots of tea.
To celebrate their being here, Mrs L had arranged a dinner party for tonight. She assured me we would be 9. For some reason, almost certainly allied to my inherited Gypsy gene from old Queen Lear, I had a sneaky suspicion we had asked another couple.
And so it has proved. An email winged its way in asking if the Cocktail Warrior was still expected.
Fortunately, I had been working on the assumption that someone else would turn up, and so it has proved.
On past form, although I don't drink in this country, I shall be hung-over tomorrow. The reason, of course, is the adrenalin racing round as the banter goes back and forth as my soon-to-be-ossified brain tries to keep up.
The dog is already exhausted with the strain of the arrangements....
None of your cardboard muesli and yogurt muck - its black pudding, eggs, bacon, sausages,tomatoes and kidneys. And a loaf or two.
The main reason is they hardly eat anything during the day, until tea-time, when cakes are required with the several pots of tea.
To celebrate their being here, Mrs L had arranged a dinner party for tonight. She assured me we would be 9. For some reason, almost certainly allied to my inherited Gypsy gene from old Queen Lear, I had a sneaky suspicion we had asked another couple.
And so it has proved. An email winged its way in asking if the Cocktail Warrior was still expected.
Fortunately, I had been working on the assumption that someone else would turn up, and so it has proved.
On past form, although I don't drink in this country, I shall be hung-over tomorrow. The reason, of course, is the adrenalin racing round as the banter goes back and forth as my soon-to-be-ossified brain tries to keep up.
The dog is already exhausted with the strain of the arrangements....
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
How to get into Heaven
Not everyone will appreciate this but it made me howl with laughter.
Four young men arrive at the Pearly Gates, and Peter says, " Ah, hello, you just need to answer a question and you'll be in."
So he asks the first one " Whats 2 and 2?"
" Hm, is it three -no -7 -no 6 - no could be 5- ah yes, its 4"
" Very good" says Peter " In you go" and asks the second young man the same question.
" Simple, its the square root of 16, or its cube root, depending on how you look at it"
" Well done, " says Peter as the young man enters the gates, and asks the third man the same question again.
" Hm well lets try 3, no so go for 5, and then we'll go for the middle - 4!"
" Super," says Peter, " Off you go", and he starts to ask the fourth young man the same question.
" Oh, forget all that old chap, no need to go into details, where's the party?"as he barges past Peter and through the gates.
" Ah fine fine," says a benign Peter complacently.
Michael had been watching this and said " Oy, what's all that about?"
" Well, " says Peter," That was 4 young men blown up in a snatch Landrover in Afghanistan, and I wanted to know what their divisions were."
" So how does asking them what 2 and 2 are help?"
" That's easy. The first one is infantry - takes them time to get there but get there they do -eventually. The second one's a sapper, too much information and largely irrelevant. The third's clearly a gunner ( brackets the answer and then gets spot on)"
" And what about the last one?"
" Oh well, he's clearly Cavalry. They're just such great fun."
It reminded me of when I was a small boy in Germany, and the Brits held ( and still hold) a Keil Week race.
The only slight draw back was that the boat that was detailed from an illustrious Cavalry regiment was on the wrong side of the Keil Canal, and would have to come through to take part in the race.
The Bonn Military Attache of the day was a great friend of my father's, as was Judge Bennett, who had been one of the Judges at Nuremburg. The news had circulated of the Cavalry's petit probleme.
The BMA and the Judge appeared at our rented-for-the-week house one day, both with shining eyes, and waggled their eyes whilst saying " We need you to come with us ." Wink wink, waggle waggle.
My father, never one to ask questions said was it all right if I came along.
" Not much for the boy to do, but I'm sure it'll be fine."
So off we set for the other end of the canal.
When we got there, a few yachts were jockeying for position to enter.
" Watch this" said the BMA.
There was a resounding crash, and one of the yachts ( which looked rather low in the water) came to a juddering halt. The BMA and the Judge were by now rubbing their hands and capering about, in a most un-judicious or military way.
There was a deal of hilarity on the yacht, which eventually turned round and came towards the jetty we were standing on.
It was the Cavalry yacht. They threw a line, which we secured.
" Well this is a fine kettle of fish" said the rather smart young man on the tiller.
" Looks like you've too much draught for the canal," said the BMA with glee.
" Damned shame. We'll have to lighten the boat."
At which point they started unloading crate after crate of champagne.
Once it was all off, the young officer took a leadership decision. "Well, its too late to go through now, we better settle here for the night. Fancy a glass?"
All agreed with alacrity, along with everyone else who happened by over the next few hours. I eventually went back to the car and slept, returning about 7am to a silent scene of devastation. The older members were still snoring, strewn about.The smart young officer of the day before, looking distinctly less smart, waved and said." Cast off old boy. Got another party to go to tonight on the other side..!"
And away they went.
Such great fun.
Four young men arrive at the Pearly Gates, and Peter says, " Ah, hello, you just need to answer a question and you'll be in."
So he asks the first one " Whats 2 and 2?"
" Hm, is it three -no -7 -no 6 - no could be 5- ah yes, its 4"
" Very good" says Peter " In you go" and asks the second young man the same question.
" Simple, its the square root of 16, or its cube root, depending on how you look at it"
" Well done, " says Peter as the young man enters the gates, and asks the third man the same question again.
" Hm well lets try 3, no so go for 5, and then we'll go for the middle - 4!"
" Super," says Peter, " Off you go", and he starts to ask the fourth young man the same question.
" Oh, forget all that old chap, no need to go into details, where's the party?"as he barges past Peter and through the gates.
" Ah fine fine," says a benign Peter complacently.
Michael had been watching this and said " Oy, what's all that about?"
" Well, " says Peter," That was 4 young men blown up in a snatch Landrover in Afghanistan, and I wanted to know what their divisions were."
" So how does asking them what 2 and 2 are help?"
" That's easy. The first one is infantry - takes them time to get there but get there they do -eventually. The second one's a sapper, too much information and largely irrelevant. The third's clearly a gunner ( brackets the answer and then gets spot on)"
" And what about the last one?"
" Oh well, he's clearly Cavalry. They're just such great fun."
It reminded me of when I was a small boy in Germany, and the Brits held ( and still hold) a Keil Week race.
The only slight draw back was that the boat that was detailed from an illustrious Cavalry regiment was on the wrong side of the Keil Canal, and would have to come through to take part in the race.
The Bonn Military Attache of the day was a great friend of my father's, as was Judge Bennett, who had been one of the Judges at Nuremburg. The news had circulated of the Cavalry's petit probleme.
The BMA and the Judge appeared at our rented-for-the-week house one day, both with shining eyes, and waggled their eyes whilst saying " We need you to come with us ." Wink wink, waggle waggle.
My father, never one to ask questions said was it all right if I came along.
" Not much for the boy to do, but I'm sure it'll be fine."
So off we set for the other end of the canal.
When we got there, a few yachts were jockeying for position to enter.
" Watch this" said the BMA.
There was a resounding crash, and one of the yachts ( which looked rather low in the water) came to a juddering halt. The BMA and the Judge were by now rubbing their hands and capering about, in a most un-judicious or military way.
There was a deal of hilarity on the yacht, which eventually turned round and came towards the jetty we were standing on.
It was the Cavalry yacht. They threw a line, which we secured.
" Well this is a fine kettle of fish" said the rather smart young man on the tiller.
" Looks like you've too much draught for the canal," said the BMA with glee.
" Damned shame. We'll have to lighten the boat."
At which point they started unloading crate after crate of champagne.
Once it was all off, the young officer took a leadership decision. "Well, its too late to go through now, we better settle here for the night. Fancy a glass?"
All agreed with alacrity, along with everyone else who happened by over the next few hours. I eventually went back to the car and slept, returning about 7am to a silent scene of devastation. The older members were still snoring, strewn about.The smart young officer of the day before, looking distinctly less smart, waved and said." Cast off old boy. Got another party to go to tonight on the other side..!"
And away they went.
Such great fun.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Births....
Today is the old folks Christmas lunch. There will be about 400 of them, and I am an honorary member of their association. I have to make a short speech in Romanian, which I have had Alin translate and I have then phoneticised ( if you get my drift.) I will only be saying enjoy the food and drink, keep warm, have a happy Christmas ( phonetically Cratchiune ferrychit) and New Year.
Buying land continues to throw up mistakes made nearly 20 years ago when it was returned from the State to the original owners. A transaction ended in the bin yesterday because the same piece of land in theory belonged to two different people - though everyone knows it belongs to Mrs A. The land court in Sibiu is one of the busiest in Romania, mostly rubber stamping decisions taken at city hall level by the Mayors and endorsed by them.
Yesterday's transaction had an unexpected bonus. The lady in question had not allowed anyone to see the land certificates before getting to the Notary's office - the lovely Ioanna ( Joanna) is now pregnant - so we had no idea there was a problem until the title was checked against the cadastral plan.
On the other hand, she also owned two adjoining pieces of land that bracketed the bit she had agreed to sell to us, but had never mentioned. Would she in the meantime sell these to us whilst the other piece was sorted out?
"Oh I didn't know they would be of interest to you. How much?"
So despite the fact that we are known to be buying all the land in this area, it never occured to her that these two strategic pieces would be of interest. Sigh.
Anyway the deed was done, and Alin and I made our way to the house of another lady who has been very helpful in identifying land for sale and its owners.
No sooner were we inside than the door was flung open and another elderly lady envelopped me in her ample bosom.
This lady was living with a man ( not married) and so had no standing in terms of dealing with his property. Last summer she had negotiated the sale of some land to us, only for it to fall apart when it was discovered that their daughter, living and working in Spain, had put an inhibition on the sale of land without her permission. This isn't as devious as it sounds - it's partly a tax avoidance measure.
Now the daughter was home for Christmas and the sale was on again - but it had to be done NOW as they were all going to visit family in Bucharest TONIGHT! So we all trooped back to Ioanna and did what was required and the money changed hands in time for Christmas.
Alin got the confirmation today that he and Andrea his wife are going to have a baby. I know I'm a dinosaur, but he seems far too young to be a father at 33.
I was 28 and a man of gavitas and demeanour when the first Miss Lear graced us with her presence.
But that's different of course.
Buying land continues to throw up mistakes made nearly 20 years ago when it was returned from the State to the original owners. A transaction ended in the bin yesterday because the same piece of land in theory belonged to two different people - though everyone knows it belongs to Mrs A. The land court in Sibiu is one of the busiest in Romania, mostly rubber stamping decisions taken at city hall level by the Mayors and endorsed by them.
Yesterday's transaction had an unexpected bonus. The lady in question had not allowed anyone to see the land certificates before getting to the Notary's office - the lovely Ioanna ( Joanna) is now pregnant - so we had no idea there was a problem until the title was checked against the cadastral plan.
On the other hand, she also owned two adjoining pieces of land that bracketed the bit she had agreed to sell to us, but had never mentioned. Would she in the meantime sell these to us whilst the other piece was sorted out?
"Oh I didn't know they would be of interest to you. How much?"
So despite the fact that we are known to be buying all the land in this area, it never occured to her that these two strategic pieces would be of interest. Sigh.
Anyway the deed was done, and Alin and I made our way to the house of another lady who has been very helpful in identifying land for sale and its owners.
No sooner were we inside than the door was flung open and another elderly lady envelopped me in her ample bosom.
This lady was living with a man ( not married) and so had no standing in terms of dealing with his property. Last summer she had negotiated the sale of some land to us, only for it to fall apart when it was discovered that their daughter, living and working in Spain, had put an inhibition on the sale of land without her permission. This isn't as devious as it sounds - it's partly a tax avoidance measure.
Now the daughter was home for Christmas and the sale was on again - but it had to be done NOW as they were all going to visit family in Bucharest TONIGHT! So we all trooped back to Ioanna and did what was required and the money changed hands in time for Christmas.
Alin got the confirmation today that he and Andrea his wife are going to have a baby. I know I'm a dinosaur, but he seems far too young to be a father at 33.
I was 28 and a man of gavitas and demeanour when the first Miss Lear graced us with her presence.
But that's different of course.
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