I was reminded today of an ex boyfriend or one of my granddaughters. “Ex” is the happiest way to describe him. He was an idle ***, a window fitter, who simply refused to go to work if he didn’t fancy the job of the day or thought the journey too long. He was destined to fail and was certainly not a suitable person to be stepping out with any granddaughter of mine. Happily, she saw the light and the relationship was short-lived. I met him a couple of weeks before Christmas some years ago and conversation was stilted at best. It became interesting when I asked him what his parents were to give him. He replied “a forks”. Totally flummoxed, I asked him what a forks was. “A box that goes at the bottom of the bed” he replied. No wiser, I asked him how to spell the word for this box. “Its a faux” he replied. Asked of what it was made, he replied “leather”. Some of you might have light dawning by this stage but I have to admit that it took me another half hour to work out that his present was to be a faux leather blanket chest in which to store his no doubt noxious tat.
What reminded me? I had just bought three bar stools from Aldi which were described as having a seat made of faux leather.
As Brandon High Street had been rendered one way for gas works, the trip to Aldi involved travelling through Hockwold, left along the Wangford Road and then left along the road to Brandon. Normally, not too bad. However, shortly after turning left along the Wangford Road, I came up behind one of our enormous flashing orange friends, followed by 23 cars (I counted them), all in line. Visibility along that road is very clear and it was patently obvious that there was no traffic coming in the opposite direction and overtaking the orange flasher would have been easy and safe. However, those behind the flasher, mostly using left hand drive cars, had tucked themselves tightly behind the flasher and had no hope of seeing whether or not the road was safe for overtaking. Once three or four are tucked in, no-one behind has a chance of overtaking. To add insult to injury, the flasher (who has never heard about pulling over) turned left towards Brandon and we all had to follow him to the central crossroads.
I have no wish to offend anyone but I do wonder whether those in our midst who drive left hand drive cars are forbidden by their insurance companies from overtaking other vehicles in the UK, and whether they are told that it is normal to pull straight out from a side road into the path of a nearby oncoming vehicle. Answers on a postcard please!
A Mexican teenager came up to the Mexican border riding his bicycle and carrying two large bags on his shoulders. The border patrol officer stopped him and said, “What’s in the bags?”“Sand,” he answered. The officer said, “We’ll just see about that.” He took the bags and tore them apart. He emptied them out but found nothing in them except sand. He detained the teen overnight and had the sand analysed, only to discover that there was nothing but pure sand in the bags. The guard released him, put the sand into new bags, hefted them onto the lad’s shoulders, and let him cross the border. A day later, the same thing happened. The officer asked, “What have you got?” “Sand,” said the youngster. The officer did a thorough examination and discovered that the bags contained nothing but sand. He gave the sand back to him, and the young man crossed the border on his bicycle. This sequence of events was repeated every day for three years. One day, the teen didn’t show. Days passed and the officer never saw him. A month later, a messenger came and handed the officer an invitation for the youngster’s house warming. When he got to the address, he saw it was a large villa with a pool, and many guests celebrating. Inside he found the teen, holding a glass of wine and enjoying his teen guests.
“Hey,” said the officer. “It’s driving me crazy. How are you so rich when all you were carrying across the border was sand? Just between you and me, what were you smuggling?” “Bicycles” he replied.
Food for thought:
Women will never be equal to men until they can walk down the street with a bald head and a beer gut, and still think they are sexy . You do not need a parachute to skydive.
You only need a parachute to skydive twice.
I used to be indecisive. Now I’m not so sure.
You’re never too old to learn something stupid.
I’m supposed to respect my elders, but its getting harder and harder for me to find one.

Best wishes to you all Ian Nisbet

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