Nuns and Judo.

Sigh! I rarely talk about the day job on this blog . But the “firm” keeps changing supervisors and changing boundaries and yet again I’ve been asked to list my skills and Courses I’d acquired  (via email although I was sitting 10 feet away) by another supervisor who has been tasked with collating said skills.

So I started my email back with

“In my quest to make me look the least attractive as possible so not to be used anywhere but in my current role I have let the following courses all lapse”

I then proceeded on a 20 minute rant of every occupational course I’ve held or attended I then ended it with

“At sports day, at Primary school (Circa 1977?)…I once held a gold star for The Angel Race but I cheated, you see I had really curly hair at school (I know right?) and I looped my curls around the rubber ring on my head (hence Angel Race), worked a treat ,I  was able to sprint with it. I feel better for having ‘fessed that. It’s been playing on my conscience for 42 years.”

Now I feel doubly better having confessed that to the wider public. I’m not proud of my misdemeanour but in all fairness it meant at the time that I beat Michael Tomkins! I’d never forgiven him for Judo throw he did on me a few weeks earlier. It was on the concrete by the water tap in the playground. It was way before I’d embarked on  the road to Kickboxing glory. All I wanted was a cold drink and queued up nicely in fear of retribution by Sister Alphonsus . The head teacher Sister Alphonsos was as scary as a big bag of holy scary things. I mean it was about that time Hammer House of Horror had brought out an episode called “The Black Nun” and it scared the living proverbial out of the seven year old Bazza at the time in a convent school in Portmouth. I mean you’d see these Nuns appearing to float down the end of the corridors  and this Nun on the programme would turn and she’d have no face! ….. like blimey! I’m sure even the teachers shat themselves going from A to B in that old 19th century building . Funnily enough Convent school and Nuns  had a different effect on my brother who still remembers the young Sister Anna Marie very fondly, but that’s for another blog the like that would be found on a less reputable platform!

Anyway there I am cute Bazza in my Nazareth House uniform grey shorts and all, awaiting my turn at the tap and along comes Michael Tomkins and decides he was going before me. I remonstrated and next thing? I was staring at the sky flat on my back as Tomkins guzzled at the tap. I remember telling Mother Dearest. The next day we were both summonsed to The Head teacher’s office. Miss Hall our teacher (who looked like the love child of Scooby doo’s Velma and Banana splits’ drummer Bingo). Said “Barry! What have you done To Michael ?”  as we both rather embarrassingly filed out of the class to the dreaded office of…..yes Sister Alphonsus. Michael was told never to use Judo again outside the Dojo. I mean he was a green belt! That was like Bruce Lee status in the playground at Nazareth House.  He never did do it again.  I looked him up on Farcebook not so long ago and he is living in Australia now! Ha! That’s what you get for being a bully, sent to Australia! No not really, he seems like he grew into a decent chap and probably doesn’t even remember the incident. But for me? Bullying and injustice are what spurned me on to be a World champion Kickboxer…not Michael Tomkins you understand no ! but Miss Hall! I wasn’t ever going to be pulled out of class again. Why did she think I was in the wrong? Not Golden boy Tomkins!  I’d never been so embarrassed, well…. at least not since Gail Clarke decided to show me her knickers earlier in that school year. Wouldn’t of been so bad but she actually didn’t have any on! that was most confusing to a 7 year old Bazza.  

After Four Years and all I write about is a kazi!

I used to write this blog so avidly back in the day how did I ever have the time ? Recently at a dinner party in Norfolk the blog I wrote on Thursday 4th of April 2014 In hot Water Again was brought up.
Detailing my Prowess with all things DIY featuring an 11 year old Aaron and I in what could only be described as a sketch from Laurel and Hardy. It's hailed as my finest work , Litrature wise not DIY I hasten to add.

So I set about finding said blog and realised the last Blog I actually posted was way back in March 2015!!!!! I 'd almost by passed Ann-Mari's time in the band and the arrival of Neil!!!
I'd so like to write this blog again I mean lots have changed but I have so much more comic material now with the dawn of my kids becoming adolescents , the arrival of Jadoo's Jingles and Hels (and her ace Vlogger over arf Tommy) and of course Mother Dearest is still a prolific chuckle magnet!

So maybe I will write some more Blogs if not just to diarise the life and times of a band that has risen from no where to well.... no where really, but a better no where with some lovely people following it that are in a the know  and know where our no where  exists.!

So that dinner party! and why were my DIY skills being discussed? Well Shazza Davey long time fan of the band (funnily enough discovered us after this blog ground to an unceremonious halt) invited us to a dinner party at her house in Norfolk with some other friends of hers. Sue who we had met at a gig in Fakenham last summer and her husband  Daz who have to say was very entertaining. We were celebrating friendship and how friends look out for each other..oh that and the fact Shaz had managed to finally fix her Toilet seat . A lovely sea scened toilet seat . Now we 'd had the commentary for a few days  on Messenger from Shaz about how this seat was not playing ball and kept falling off and she finally managed to secure it with the use of copius anounts of Araldite and a spell she managed to whip up in the cauldron inn the next room ( any other blog that would sound offensive wouldn't it?) Everyone used her toilet and Shaz was in her element Food went down well the chat was funny, intellectual and her toilet seat was bearing the brunt !....but then it was time for me to go to the throne room .

Now reader, I'm going to spare you the detailed narrative but needless to say it was a sit down session and I'm rather erm heavier than the other dinner party guests. (I have big bones ok ?)
Anyway I'm half way though the job and about to do the paperwork.....no job is finished without the paperwork right? when I heard ...tink! the sound of a metal bolt hitting the floor I looked down at the screw that secures the seat  to the pan was on the floor.....as my exposed bottom slid sideways on a now insecure seat . Shit shit shit !!!! I thought  ( lucky it wasn't a few moments earlier and it really would of.........well you know what I mean!) I'd killed Shazza's toilet seat.  I picked myself off the floor trousers round the ankles . So I kind of sorted myself out and proceeded to lay under the toilet trying to re attach the renegade and offending seat without alerting the dinner party that I had just nearly worn said toilet seat like a gurning ring! I tried and tried and I'm not sure if it was the Port I had drunk I couldn't re attach it . I admitted defeat and came gingerly down the stairs  ( I had pulled me trousers up by then ...obviously!) and presented said bolt! A few minutes later myself and Darren were both laying under the bowl like too surveying mechanics on a car wondering how we were going to do this. After a bit of faffing we secured it and we can safely say that the seat is secure ...Bootiful as they say in Norfolk and  "That's a deckchair said the Norfolk girl  ( last summer's erm escapade) "and now my toilet seat that you have broken now Bazza"

I decided that maybe I need to lose weight again...... but I also decided that it wasn't something to rush into and much after eight type mints were consumed after all DIY is a very strenous activity!