Friends, like me, do you always pick out the unpopular chocolates from, say, a box of Cadburys Roses or Quality Street, so as to leave the best ones for others to enjoy? We're today's genuine heroes, I always feel !
"But, apart from those exploding Wonka bars, Colin, are there any other unpopular bars and flavours that you and your medium-to-long-suffering wife Lois remove from chocolate boxes in similar acts of selfless bravery?" I hear you cry.
No? Well, even though you're obviously NOT "gagging to know" (!), we're the two "noggins" who take out all the 'caramel bites' from Cadburys Roses boxes, and all the 'coconut eclairs' from all boxes of Quality Street that we "stumble across", and then selflessly stuff ourselves with them.
Bet you've been puzzled by the apparent absence of these little "shockers" for a few years now, haven't you. Admit it haha!
It's funny, but, you see, in a way, Lois and I are the "
caramel bites" of modern British society. If you like, we're the "
coconut eclairs" in your "box of
Quality Street", which is a pity!!!!
my medium-to-long-suffering wife Lois and me
- the "coconut eclairs" in everybody's box of Quality Street
- sob, sob !!!!
We're just not popular! Popular with each other - yes, with a capital 'Y'! But not popular with anybody else, which is a shame, and a waste of our many good qualities (no pun intended!!!!)
Lois and me - we're the coconut eclairs in your box of Quality Street:
(left) me playing solo-chess and Lois solo-tennis, until finally
we found each other, the nerdy grad-student and the shy librarian,
a match made in heaven, pictured here in Buxton, Derbyshire,
as locals carefully keep their distance (!)
We're not popular. Or at least we believe we're not popular - but your views welcome: postcards only, need I add (!).
And yet, strangely, we've started to believe that a tiny minority of the UK population do seem to like us - only three people, it's true, and probably oddballs themselves, they see something in Lois and me that they can really connect to.
Only a mile away from us, here in rural, semi-leafy Liphook, Hampshire, there's a not very mobile local retiree, Jon, who plus his semi-carer Michele and friend Myrtle seem to be going out of their way to see us, which is weird. And not just Jon, but his semi-carer Michele, and friend Myrtle.
(left) from left to right: retiree Jon, with friends Myrtle and Michele,
with Lois, and (right) I join the group for a second photo, just for completeness,
leaving Michele to "press the proverbial shutter"
Oddly this group gets mine and Lois's jokes, and even our cultural references, which is weird - Lois and I talk gaily to them about our lunch at the Crown pub in nearby Headley, and prattle on about its associations with antediluvian rock band Fleetwood Mac, for example, and three pairs of eyes light up, which is nice!
[Five 'basket-cases' then, instead of just the usual two! - Ed]
Michele came here from South Africa about 25 years ago, escaping the crime and violence there, and also the discrimination against whites in the job market, she says. She subsequently worked as a radiographer in the Royal Surrey County Hospital, Guildford, where I'm going early tomorrow morning for my annual check-up, and she gives me some tips about the best places to park, which will be handy.
All in all, a bit of a weird day for us, but in a good way. Similarly, the evening, is unexpectedly, but delightfully, dominated by the familiar voice of Lois's dear late father, Dennis, a lay preacher, coming out of the computer, as Lois listens to one of his old addresses with a group of fellow church-members in Oxford, where Lois grew up.
flashback to August 1972, and our wedding day, with (left to right)
my father Ken, Lois' parents Ruth and Dennis, and my mother Hannah ("Nan")
21:00 And finally, tonight, we put the day to bed with a weird-but-nice "Portillo Hour" as we watch some of ex-Cabinet Minister Michael Portillo's recent railway adventures.
In this episode Michael is in Bucks, visiting the Heath-Robinson museum near Princess Risborough.
"Heath-Robinson" - his name's in the dictionary, isn't it, and it refers to any piece of over-elaborate, cumbersome and absurd, botched up, home-made equipment. But it was once the name of a real person, William Heath Robinson, who had initially trained to be a serious artist at the Royal Academy.
Although a serious artist, early on in his career in the 1930's, William realised that what he liked to draw most was pictures that made people laugh. He grew up in the UK in the years between the 2 world wars, when there were a lot of things for people to feel gloomy about - not just the Depression era, but the rise of inhuman technology, automation combined with bureaucracy, and also, at the same time, from across the Channel, the rise of totalitarianism, first in Russia and then in Germany, Italy and Spain.
William soon turned to humorous drawing, firstly for financial reasons, but also because he wanted to raise a counter-cheer for humanity and human frailty and sheer, unadulterated, "bumbliness".
This picture below shows one of Heath-Robinson's most famous works, a drawing of a machine for testing false teeth in a false-teeth factory, and on display at the exhibition, as presented here for Michael's benefit by Heath-Robinson's great-nephew, Peter.
Fascinating stuff, isn't it!
But wait - there's even more silly pomposity to come.... (!)
William realised, also, that ordinary Brits were struggling to cope with modern life and technology, and so, helpfully, he published a series of "
How to..." books to fill the gap. A set of guidebooks for navigating modern madness, if you will, which was a start!
Fascinating stuff. But at the same immensely practical, especially if you're short of space generally, and your current "squeeze" is on a different floor of the building. Makes sense, doesn't it, you've got to admit!
Michael asks Peter about how we should remember the eccentric and whimsical William Heath-Robinson, and Peter reminds us again of the context of his work. which was the first half of the 20th century.
So hail to thee, William Heath-Robinson! You didn't keep our parents out of war, but you gave them something to laugh about
during the war, which was something, and it made things a bit less awful for them, so rest in peace!
Will this do?
[Oh just go to bed! - Ed]
22:00 We go to bed - zzzzzzz!!!!!!
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